The First Youthful Patriarch Going from Home

The life of every person, if duly inspected, will be found to bear abundant testimony to the truth, that, while “a man’s heart deviseth his way, the Lord directeth his steps.” Not unfrequently is he thrown into the midst of scenes he little thought of, and of associations that are not of his own seeking. Events occur in his history which surprise none more than himself, and which conduct to results that sometimes disappoint his hopes, but are more often better than his fears.

These thoughts are suggested by a scene, with which we are all familiar, which the sacred historian sets before us in a most touching narrative. “And Jacob went out from Beersheba, and went toward Haran. And he lighted upon a certain place, and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place, and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep. And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven; and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it. And behold the Lord stood above it and said, I am the Lord God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac; the land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed. And thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and thou shalt spread abroad to the west and to the east, and to the north and to the south; and in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed. And behold I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again to this land; for I will not leave thee until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of. And Jacob awaked out of his sleep and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not. And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven. And Jacob rose up early in the morning, and took the stone that he had put for his pillow, and set it up for a pillar, and poured oil upon the top of it. And he called the name of that place Beth-El. And Jacob vowed a vow, saying, If God will be with me and keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father’s house in peace; then shall the Lord be my God; and this stone which I have set up for a pillar shall be God’s house; and of all that thou shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto thee.”

Among the many thoughts suggested by this narrative, the first is, that young men are not un-FREQUENTLY PREPARED FOR USEFULNESS BY GREAT

trials. Jacob was comparatively young. The more permanent relations of domestic life were, with him, yet unformed; every resolution he adopted, and every step he took, would give a coloring to all his future course in the present world, as well as affect his destiny beyond the grave. He was the third, in lineal descent, from the primogenitor of the Hebrew race; dedicated to God in his infancy, and educated in his fear. His father Isaac, though not one of the most distinguished, was one of the loveliest characters in patriarchal history. His son Jacob, the child of Rebekah, his first love, was obviously the favorite of his parents; nor was it any ordinary event that could have induced them to consent to his separation from them. But an eventful life was before him; and one marked by such responsibilities, that God saw fit to prepare him for them by no ordinary dispensations of his providence. He was destined to become a noble man, the pride of his family, and to give his own distinguished and heaven-imparted name to the whole Israel of God. But he did not reach this distinction without trials. There were occurrences in his early history, deeply affecting, and deeply and forever humbling to his own mind. The deception and falsehood he had been guilty of toward his father, and the fraud he had practised on his brother Esau, were melancholy events; nor can the stigma they have left upon his character ever be blotted out. The immediate result of them was, that he was filled with remorse and fear, became an exile from the bosom of parental partiality and love, and was subjected to trials which plunged him into deep, and well-nigh irrecoverable perplexity.

The hope and prediction of his mother, that his absence would continue but a “few days, until his brother’s anger turn away from him, and he forget that which he had done unto him,” was never fulfilled. We nowhere read that she ever again set her eyes upon her darling son. A murderous spirit rankled in the bosom of Esau; years of absence, of toil, of watchfulness, of disappointed hopes — years of which he says, “in the day, the drought consumed me, and the frost by night, and my sleep departed from mine eyes” — passed away, before he could look for a peaceful, or even a safe return.

It is not always that particular trials are so obviously the result of particular transgressions. In the present instance, they were the immediate consequences of his sin. Perplexity and distress followed him in all his exile, they poisoned his sources of joy, and dashed his honeyed cup with bitterness. God brought him to repentance and forgave his sin; but he so “visited his iniquity with the rod, and his trangressions with stripes,” that the discipline and trial of his long and embarrassing exile became the preparative for other scenes of still deeper trial, out of which he came as purified gold from the furnace. They were the very discipline he needed to fit him to become the selected depositary of God’s gracious covenant, and so many gracious communications to the world. Severe and self-procured as they were, they were the means of making him what he was, when he wrestled with the angel of the covenant at Peniel, when his pilgrim character sanctified the Holy Land, and when, in Egypt and before Pharaoh, his hoary head was a crown of glory, and “the servants of Pharaoh, the elders of his house, and all the elders of the land of Egypt, with both chariots and horsemen, a very great company,” paid their homage at his crave.

It is no uncommon ‘thing for the young to be thus disciplined for usefulness and honor. Few have attained to this distinction, who cannot look back upon seasons of trial in their younger days. The tenderness and sympathy of home, even with all their fitting counsels, not unfrequently create too strong a sense of dependence on human helpers.

What is kindly designed to be the best preliminary to the best and most energetic character, may be, and often is, a doubtful preparative for the untried scenes of a young man’s future pilgrimage. The voice of heavenly wisdom instructs us, that “it is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth” It is a melancholy fact, that the mass of young men learn only by experience. Dear bought, bitter experience, teaches them lessons which are never learned from the teachings of hoary wisdom. They must see with their own eyes, hear with their own ears, and suffer in their own persons. Launch out on the wide ocean of human life they will, ere they learn that there are boisterous winds, and many a perilous lee-shore. It were an instructive chapter in the history of great and good men, which should bring out to our view the effect which the perplexities and trials of youth had upon their character. Not a few are left in maturer years to mourn in obscurity over concealed and useless talent, and even no small degree of ineffective goodness, because they remained too long ignorant of the force with which they could both perform and suffer. Sweet flowers grow in the forest; and the brightest gems are dug from the deep sea. Early transplanting to the busy scenes of the world, to its severer responsibilities, and not unfrequently to its agitating conflicts and depressing trials, is the discipline the mind requires to make it “bring forth fruit in old age.” Nothing is better fitted to correct inconsiderate thoughts, lead to sober reflection, and season the mind with wise and serious principles. Never is it in a state more happily qualified to receive instruction, or more disposed to lay it aside for future use, than when under the burden of trials, of which the young are most disposed to complain. They learn then in defiance of their own thoughtlessness. And they are permanent lessons; the memory treasures them up; they are sacred treasures, not easily lost or violated. They are from the wise ordering of a “kind and heavenly providence, at the season when they are most needed. To a young man in the full career of vanity and self-indulgence, they bring the hour of faithful upbraiding, but more tender and touching expostulation; of solemn caution, but still more solemn resolves; of passion controlled and appetites curbed. And though there are some minds that are depressed and crushed by them, and others that are driven to the recklessness of despair; yet is this God’s ordinary method of forming the most wisely balanced and vigorous character. Nothing is effective to which the grace of God is not superadded; but when it is superadded to such a discipline, it forms a character prepared to take share in the burdens of human life — in its sorrows and joys, its solicitude and hopes; a character to which restraint and self-denial, forethought and self-control, become habits that are welcomed and cherished.

We remark in the next place, that in setting

OUT IN THE WORLD, YOUNG MEN GREATLY NEED THE

divine direction and blessing. Wicked as he had been, never did Jacob more need the sympathy of men, and the care of God, than in this crisis of his history. It was the turning point in his destiny. He remained a member of his father’s family longer than most young men — longer than was wise. To say the least, he was more than thirty years of age, when he went out from Beersheba, and went toward Haran. This child of promise, this favorite son of Rebecca, left home under circumstances of no enviable kind. This heir of a powerful family, already its chief and head, did not take a fair start in the world; he was a fugitive “because of the anger of his brother Esau, lest he should kill him.” He goes forth secretly, precipitately, and alone. He had no studied arrangements for his journey; he went unexpectedly, a solitary traveller and on foot. “With my staff,” says he, “I passed over this Jordan.” Few young men have left the home of their childhood and youth under darker clouds, or with a heavier heart. With what emotions did he bow his head for the last time with Isaac and Rebekah before God’s throne, and rise from that solemn act of worship in which he received a father’s blessing, and then to turn his back upon home! With what fear of Esau’s murderous hand! with what remorse for his own wickedness! With what regret of the past; with what a melancholy retrospect of scenes never to be revisited! There was no mother’s eye to follow him; no longer was there extended to him a fathers care. He was going among those whom he never saw, and his way was desolate. He was alone in the world, and no eye was upon him but that of God and his invisible angels. It could scarcely be otherwise than that he was a most unhappy and disconsolate young man.

He arrived at Luz, a pagan city which lay on the frontiers of the tribe of Benjamin. He did not enter the city; night overtook him, and whether he found refuge in some stranger’s tent, or slept in the open field, or lived, or died, seemed of little consequence to him. He was sad and weary; and the sacred historian tells us, that “he lighted upon a certain place and tarried all night, because the sun was set; and he took of the stories of that place, and put them for his pillow, and lay down in that place to sleep.” There, amid the silence of the night, away from the tumult of the world, slept the youthful Jacob. The dewy heavens covered him. The father of Israel’s twelve tribes slept in the lone field.

Fatigued with toil and grief, a stone was his pillow; his keeper, the “Shepherd of Israel.”

“Thou knowest, O Lord,” saith the prophet, “that the way of man is not in himself; it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps.” If there is a period when even a wild, self-willed, self-confident, self-conceited, pleasure-loving, and pleasure-seeking young man feels his need of being cared for by that kind providence which “hears the young ravens when they cry;” it is when the cord which binds him to the home of his father’s is first sundered, and he goes alone and friendless into the world. It may be, he goes under the burden of youthful follies and wickedness; of parental love ungratefully requited, and parental counsels and authority abused and trodden under his feet. And then his heart smites him, and the burden is greater than he can bear. Or it may be, he goes with an honest conscience and approving smiles, and that his only trial is the sundering of those bonds of filial affection and duty, which have been so long and so pleasantly cherished. Even then he goes with a heavy heart, and “with wandering steps and slow.” A false step may lead him into paths from which he may never be reclaimed; snares may entangle him which may never be broken; and associates may crowd about him who are “lured only by the scent of prey.” And even if he chooses the wiser path, much does he need of caution and reserve, of integrity and firmness, of “the wisdom that is from above,” to keep and strengthen him in the way. It is a happy home which such a young man departs from, and one which he has contributed to make happy. But it is his Eden home no longer.

“The world is all before him, where to choose His place of rest, and Providence his guide.”

To a young man thus forsaken of earth, the care and guardianship of the God of Jacob is worth more than earth can give. When Hagar was banished by Abraham to the wilderness, the God of Abraham did not forget even the bondwoman and her son. To the depressed descendants of this same exiled Jacob, God said, “Although I have scattered them among the countries, yet will I be to them as a little sanctuary in the countries where they shall come.” How precious such a thought to a young man, away from home, with none to look to, and none to lean upon but Jacob’s God! Most delightful is that expostulation, “Wilt thou not from this time cry unto me, My Father! thou art the guide of my youth?” There is one whose eye sees the wanderer, even in the far off wilderness, or farther sea, whose ear hears him, whose heart pities him. Dejected and in solitude, shut out and disinherited by all the world, the God of heaven is his guide and refuge.

It is written in the Scriptures, “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.” The God of Jacob is the young man’s friend. Be he anywhere, on land, or ocean; in the solitary desert, or in the crowded city; with such a friend and guardian, he is safe. Away from God, all is dark and full of danger. There is security and peace only under the shadow of his wing; nor may he ever despair of help from God.

But this narrative suggests a more interesting thought still: it reminds us of the condescending

GRACE OF GOD TO THE WANDERER WHEN HE LEAST EXPECTS AND LEAST DESERVES IT. If Jacob Was a

pious young man, his piety was of a very doubtful character. It was not superior to a bare-faced stratagem, and one addressed to the more corrupt affections of the human heart. I would not like to have gone from home with the guilt of Jacob on my conscience. He had been a deceiver. He had taken advantage of his aged father’s debility and blindness, and lied himself into his brother’s inheritance, and by false assurances, often repeated, secured the blessing which belonged to the first-born. His conduct had been wicked to a degree that enlists all our sympathies in favor of defrauded and injured Esau, even though he was not the child of promise. His mother, led away by fond partiality to her favorite son, spread the snare by which he was, at first reluctantly, but at length easily entangled, and into which indeed he ultimately rushed with eagerness. The conduct of Rebekak in this whole transaction was reprehensible in a high degree, and most dishonorable in her as a mother. And it deserves to be remarked that from this hour her name disappears from the sacred history. Honorable mention is made even of Deborah, her nurse, and the place where she died, and of the oak in Beth-el where she was buried; but of Rebekah nothing farther is recorded but the fact of her burial in the cave of Macpelah. She was in the prime of life; but her name was doomed to silence; this base act of fraud is the last recorded act of her life, and her memory comes down to posterity under this opprobrium.

Well did Esau complain. The circumstances of this deception are very touching, and are narrated with great simplicity and beauty. We know not which to compassionate most, the venerable father, as he first discovered Jacob’s deception, and “trembled very exceedingly,” or the disappointed and heart-broken son, when “he cried with an exceeding great and bitter cry, Bless me, even me also, 0 my father /” There is no apology for such conduct as this, on the part of Jacob. It is true, that God had, before their birth, revealed the purpose to his mother, that “the elder should serve the younger.” But this could not justify Jacob’s fraud. The divine purpose is no rule of action; it has no power of turning falsehood into truth, nor of diminishing the turpitude of conduct which the divine law forbids. It is no part of God’s purpose to diminish or relax the obligations, at all times, and under all circumstances to obey the command, “Speak ye every man truth to his neighbor.” It was an infamous crime in Jacob that he had thus uttered the most palpable falsehood, and even made religion the cloak of his dissimulation.

And now this young man, with all this burden of wickedness upon him, leaves the scenes of his childhood and youth, and goes into the world. Who would suppose that he would prosper; much less, that he was just on the eve of being made the subject of God’s converting grace, and of receiving unwonted manifestations of his goodness and mercy? We should scarcely have predicted good of a young man, leaving home under such auspices; but rather should we have uttered ominous forebodings, and in his departure, seen signs of no bright augury.

Yet approach, and see this guilty wanderer, on that first night after he had fled, as he lies in the open field. Will his conscience suffer him to sleep? Yes, he sleeps. But do not his thoughts trouble him? Does he not start in apprehension and terror? Does no fearful dream agitate him, and is

VOL. II. — 11 he disturbed by no unwelcome visions of the night? Yes, his mind is awake; he dreams, and tGod speaks to him in his dream. And strange to say, his thoughts are tranquil, his dreams delightful, and are even heavenly dreams. It is no image of his defrauded brother that rises up before his excited imagination; nor is it the voice of his revengeful pursuer that he hears. Other images are before his wakeful mind, and another voice speaks in tones of forgiving love. “And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven; and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it.” This was not all. “And behold, the Lord stood above it.” No angry sword of justice was in his hand; nor was there a word of rebuke uttered by his lips; nor did a frown darken his brow. Behold, the Lord stood above the ladder, and said, “I am the Lord God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac. The land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed. And thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth; and in thee, and in thy seed, shall all the families of the earth be blessed. And behold I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again unto this land; for I will not leave thee until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of.” Wonderful dream! wondrous vision! wondrous announcement to such a deceiver!

He was alone in the desert; and God gave him the pledge of his protection and favor. He feared the wrath of his infuriated brother; and God showed him angelic messengers for his defence. He was on his way with the view of forming those social alliances which are confessedly the most important in the world; and God told him that his seed should be as the stars of heaven. We may not stop to inquire into the disputed meaning of the ladder, and the descending and ascending angels. To our own mind they indicate the superintending providence of God; they taught Jacob that the divine care was extended over all, and had a particular regard for him in his exile. Fanciful and allegorical writers have found almost every truth — philosophical, religious and ethical — in this figurative representation. We see in it angel ministrations — “ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to them that shall be heirs of salvation.”

When the Apostle Paul had been contemplating some of the more precious and glorious truths of the gospel, he pauses in his rapid survey of them, and dwells upon their affecting import. “Whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son. Moreover, whom he did predestinate, them he also called; and whom he called, them he also justified; and whom he justified, them he also glorified? Never was there a brighter chain of truths, or more closely linked together than these. They are wondrous truths; and it is no marvel the writer demands, “What shall we say then to these things?” So we exclaim in view of these disclosures to Jacob in the desert, What shall we say to these things? There were peculiarities in this transaction we know, arising from the revealed purpose of God toward the descendants of Abraham in the line of Sarah and Rebekak. The purpose was of eternal origin, and the promise of early date. Jacob was to transmit the promise, and in his descendants it was to be fulfilled, and forever to remain the source of the strongest hopes, and brightest prospects of all the children of God. The time of its fulfilment was drawing nigh; and Jacob must be exiled from his father’s house, met on his way in the open field, taught of God, encouraged in his errand to Haran; and all this, notwithstanding he was so wicked a man. He was the descendant of a pious ancestry, and the child of the covenant which God had made with his fathers; and from regard to this covenant, God here graciously revealed himself to him as his covenant God. We do not read of his being a pious man before this period; nor do we read of anything that is inconsistent with piety in his subsequent history. He seems to have become a converted man on that remarkable night, and during that gracious interview with the God of his fathers. God is not wont thus to establish and confirm his covenant with those who have no spiritual relation to it; so that, although the Scriptures are silent on this subject, may we not date the new-born hopes and song of Jacob from this remarkable scene?

We have, therefore, but one answer to the question, when we inquire, What shall we say to these things? We can only say, this is one of the facts, of which heaven will recount so many, that stands out in illustration of God’s marvellous and discriminating grace. Nor do the peculiarities of Jacob’s relation to the Abrahamic covenant obscure its lustre. Such is not the manner of man, we know; but God’s thoughts are not the thoughts of man, nor his ways man’s ways. Jacob is not the only young man who is reached by covenanted influences, in his wanderings from home, and in his wanderings from God. God cares for many a youth who does not yet care for him, because he is a child of the covenant he made with his parents. He is not the only young man whom the voice of prayer and the sins of youth have followed into the world; and for whom the voice of prayer has prevailed over the sins of youth. Nor is he the only young man who has found repentance and pardon; and who, while he deserves to be an exile from the divine favor, has found the divine providence watching over him, and the divine grace his refuge. The distant heaven has been accessible to him; the intercourse intimate, the views delightful, the voice his Father’s voice. Jacob’s experience has probably been the experience of thousands. Many a young man has thus, as he has left his father’s house on earth, for the first time looked toward his Father’s house in heaven. Sinner as he was, and laden with guilt and woes, and perhaps with a stone for his pillow, ministering angels have hovered over his head, and Jacob’s God has uttered to him the words, Behold, I am with thee I

The effects of this interview with the God of his fathers were very pleasant upon Jacob’s mind. He thought the grace was wonderful. He had little thought of such scenes, when he made his bed on the open field; nor were the impressions they made easily forgotten. The narrative on which we are dwelling presents therefore an affecting view

OF THE OBLIGATIONS OF YOUNG MEN WHO ARE THUS

the objects of god’s regard! Jacob awoke from these visions with views and emotions such as he had never possessed before. His first thought was, “Verily, the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not!” Distance did not shut him out from God; the darkness did not hide from him. He felt a reverence for God, which was new even to one who had so often bowed at his altars. “He was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place; this is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven!” He had heard only the words of promise and the voice of mercy; yet he was afraid. They were no ordinary scenes through which he had passed, and no ordinary spot of earth was it which he occupied. It was holy ground; for God was there. Though the open field, it was the house of God; it was the gate of heaven, though far from the abodes of men; it was God’s altar, though but the stone on which he had slept. He could think of little else than God, and only bow and worship.

He had been the Lord’s by being dedicated to him in his early years; but he now acted for himself, and his choice and purpose were, that the God of his father, Abraham and Isaac, should be his God. On that hallowed ground, he set up a memorial of God’s distinguished goodness and mercy toward him, and inscribed upon it God’s name. “And Jacob rose up early in the morning, and took the stone that he had put for his pillow, and set it up for a pillar, and poured oil on the top of it; and he called the name of that place Beth-el.” It was God’s house and God’s altar; he consecrated it to God, and according to the custom of the East, anointed it with oil. Here, in this sacred spot, he resolved thenceforward to be God’s servant. u And Jacob vowed a vow, saying, If God will be with me and keep me in this way that

I go, and will give me bread to eat and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father’s house in peace; then the Lord shall be my God?

Such were young Jacob’s impressions, in view of God’s goodness and mercy toward him, on that memorable night. And how many young men are there, as well as others who are not young, who are reminded of the wonderful goodness and mercy of God toward them both in early and later periods of their history? It were grateful to requite this loving-kindness. Such mercies and deliverances are not always remembered; yet is it more delightful to remember and requite, than to forget and neglect them.

You were strangers in a strange land, and the God of heaven was your friend. You were fatherless, and he was a Father to you. You were in “dangers oft,” and he protected you; embarrassed with difficulty and darkness, and he guided you in a plain path. You were oppressed with fear, and sunk in despondency, and he relieved your apprehensions and cheered you on your way. You were poor, and he has given you wealth; low and abject, and his gentleness has made you great.

How fitting the inquiry, “What shall I render to the Lord, for all his benefits toward me?” You remember the time, the place, where his paternal hand was stretched forth to save you from ruin; you can look back on all the way in which he has led you, and made you what you are. Many a stone would be set up for a pillar, and many a place would be to you a Beth-el, if all the scenes which mark the divine goodness toward you were kept in thankful remembrance. It was a timely resolution of Jacob, “The Lord shall be my God!” Why not make it your own? You will (be happy then, even though, like him, you have only a stone for your pillow; you will not be friendless then, even though you have none to care for you but the God of Jacob.

Jacob did not become pious too soon; nor was he the gainer by the sins of his youth. If you trace his history, you will find it full of vexations, disappointment, and calamity; and his sufferings bore a marked analogy to his sins. More than once did it seem that his “gray hairs would be brought down with sorrow to the grave.” Esau and Jacob met not often; it was easier to forgive than to forget. Nor do we read of their meeting after the death of their father. The bond was sundered when Isaac died. It is a relief to our minds to read the remark of the sacred historian, “And his sons Esau and Jacob buried him.” There they met, and there they parted. Their descendants were never friends; but their own feuds, we may believe, were buried in the old man’s grave.

This is an affecting lesson to the young. There is no such thing in the government of God as a ll* young man letting conscience swing from her moorings, and taking his fill of pleasure, and never feeling the oppressive burden of his former sins. He cannot forget them. If he becomes a pious man, they will haunt his memory; they will creep within the folds of his midnight dreams; they put a weapon into the hands of his great spiritual adversary, and often give a sting to the fiery darts of the devil. None appreciate as they ought to do, the claims and blessings of early -piety. A careful inspection of almost every man’s history, who does not consecrate to God the dew of his youth, will disclose the fact that he ordinarily bears the marks of his iniquity to his dying day. If you would be freed from the pangs of a guilty conscience, and the apprehensions of God’s displeasure; if you would not have your fairest hopes blasted in the bloom; if you would obtain the mastery over yourself, and not be the sport of appetites and passions that destroy both body and soul in hell; if you would enjoy that measure of blessing which God gives you on earth, and besides this, have a treasure so safe that it never can be lost; if you would be prepared for death, and not be afraid to die; early seek the face of the God of Jacob. Commit yourself to the care of Israel’s shepherd. Do it soon; do it now. Wait not until this bright morning of human life is overcast; till the sounds of joy have ceased, and the flowers, which are now opening to its rising sun, lie desolate under the cold wind. Wait not until the snow of time falls on your hoary head, when the long winter’s night shuts in, and the stone which you once purposed to set up as God’s altar, shall be set up by other hands only to mark your grave.