The Passover (Continued)

“Throngli faith he kept the passover, and the sprinkling of blood, lest he that destroyed the first-born should touch them.” — Heb. XI. 28. “Christ our passover is sacrificed for us.” — 1 CoK. v. 7.

The night before any decisive conflict is a solemn and anxious season. On the night before the battle of Ivry, which was to decide whether he should lose his life or gain a second crown, as he sat pondering a map of the battle-field the hair on one side of King Henry’s head turned grey; and we like to know how the commanders felt on the night which raised the siege of Ley den, on the night before Pharsalia, on the eve of Blenheim or Waterloo.

Moses has not told us how he felt on the night before the Exodus; but he has given us some interesting glimpses of the scene, or rather the data for reproducing it. It was April, and it was the night of the full moon. The soft and silvery light fell on the white backs of the African mountains far away, and it streamed almost perpendicular on the mighty Pyramids which rose like silent symbols of eternity straight above his head. In the royal streets of Memphis all was silent, and all was silent in the wide green plain around it, — so silent that if you had taken a quiet stroll by the river brink you might have heard the plunge of the nightfeeding fishes and the pants of behemoth as he slept among the bulrushes. But although all was so silent, all was not locked in slumber. These lowly cottages, — they are Hebrew huts, — the hovels of slaves, and they have lights still burning. Peep through the chink and see what the inmates are doing. They are all of them astir; I declare not one of them has lain down, and they look like people preparing for a journey. On the table are traces of a finished repast, the house-mother is packing up her kneading-trough, with his staff in his hand the goodman is ready for the road, and the very children are excited and watching. But what ’s this red mark on the door? What means this blood on the lintel? Did you hear that cry? ‘Tis the moment of midnight, and some tragedy is enacted in that Egyptian dwelling, for such an unearthly shriek! and it is repeated and re-echoed, as doors burst open and frantic women rush into the street, and, as the houses of priests and physicians are beset, they only shake their heads in speechless agony, and point to the deathsealed features of their own first-born. Lights are flashing at the palace gates, and flitting tlirougli the royal chambers; and as king’s messengers hasten through the town inquiring where the two venerable Hebrew brothers dwell, the whisper flies, “The prince-royal is dead!” Be off, ye sons of Jacob! Speed from our house of bondage, ye oppressed and injured Israelites! And in their eagerness to “thrust forth” the terrible because Heaven-protected race, they press upon them gold and jewels, and bribe them to be gone.

It was a night much to be remembered, for ‘’ a nation was born” in that niojht. During those four hundred years Jacob’s family had expanded into a multitude, the threescore and fifteen souls had grown to at least a million. But it was a mere inorganic multitude, a horde without a head, with no laws or rulers of its own, — a helpless, down- trampled tribe, held together by common hardships, and a common mother-tongue. This night, hovrever, they sprang to their feet an exceeding great army. In the surprise of their sudden emancipation, their mouth was filled with laughter and their tongue with melody. Scarcely credible, it still was true. Jehovah had made bare His mighty arm, and Pharaoh, crushed and humbled, was entreating them to fly. With no king over them but God, with no bonds save those of mutual brotherhood, they were now their own masters, and moving towards the Promised Land.

‘No wonder that the night when as a nation they were born became a night ever memorable; a night much to be observed unto the Lord for bringing them out from the land of Egypt; a night of Jehovah, to be observed of all the children of Israel in their generations. No wonder if the 15th of Abib, if the night of this glorious revolution, the return of their national independence, the recurrence of the exodus, became a joyful anniversary, and if, even without Divine direction, they had agreed to keep it as a joyful feast for ever.

But of such an event the memorial was not left to mere chance or good feeling, and we have here the rules laid down which secured its continued celebration. And we know that in point of fact the celebration lasted as long as the Hebrew nation had a home, and in some of its features it is still kept up by that peculiar people. Everything was done to make it a joyful and suggestive jubilee, and if you had lived in the days of the Lord Jesus you would have seen it kept somewhat after this fashion: — First of all, the little capital would fill up with people from all ends of Palestine, would fill up and brim over like a great bee-hive, every house as full as it could hold, and thousands lodging anywhere, all bright and cheerful, hospitable, and open-handed, for the maxim was, “This day is holy unto the Lord your God, go your way, eat the fat and drink the sweet; neither be ye sorry, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Four days beforehand, the father of the family brought home a lamb, gentle and beautiful, sure to take the hearts of the children; but in this instance a short-lived favourite, for in four days the lamb must die. Then came the day of preparation, with its hunt through all the house in search of that leavened bread which they were commanded to put away, when every drawer and cupboard was opened, and every corner carefully explored, and if the smallest morsel was found it was brushed into a basin, and carried out to a bonfire kindled on purpose, and burnt with a j)rayer for its annihilation. Then came the high day, the killing of the passover, followed by the paschal feast, — a feast with specialties sure to strike the younger spectators. Instead of putting off their shoes at the door of the apartment, as usual, the guests walked in in their sandals, loins girded and staff in hand, and, not unfrequently, instead of reclining they simply stood round the table, like pilgrims or passers-by, who could hardly wait to snatch a hasty morsel. Then on the table, besides the all-important lamb, roasted, and with bitter herbs sprinkled over it, stood one great goblet of wine; and for bread, instead of the ordinary loaves, were thin airy cakes of the finest whitest flour, and a solid cake of figs and almonds, shaped like a brick, and with cinnamon strewed over it in imitation of straw. Whilst the feast was going on, at a signal from his mother, the yonngest child in the party asked — “What mean ye by this service?” and then the grandfather, or oldest guest, made answer: “Long ago our fathers lived in Egypt, and the Egyptians made them slaves. The Egyptians used them very cruelly, and our fathers cried to God. God said to the king of Egypt, ‘Let my people Israel go;’ but the heart of the king was very hard, and for all the plagues which God sent on Egypt the king would not let Israel go. At last God said to our fathers, ‘Take every family of you a lamb, and kill it to-night, and sprinkle its blood upon your door, and stand ready to start, for this night Egypt will be glad when you go.’ And that night into all except the blood- sprinkled houses went the angel of death, and smote the first-born, whilst he passed over our fathers, whom, from that house of bondace, and that niojht much to be observed, with a high hand and an outstretched arm, God carried to this goodly land. So we, the sons of Israel, come together to keep the gTeat feast of the Hebrew family. We eat the unleavened bread and the lamb with bitter herbs as our fathers ate that night. This day is holy unto the Lord, and as we keep our joyful feast we sing the Great Hallel.” The night of that great exodus was the birth -

1 See Helen’s Pilgrimage.

night of the Hebrew nationality. If we want to find the second birth-day of the world, or rather the true birth-day of God’s redeemed, the period from which our human family dates its new life, its new hope and happiness, we must put two together — the one which saw the Advent effected, and that other which saw the Atonement accomplished; the one when to sinful men it was said, “To you a Saviour is born,” and that other when, in the hearing of earth and heaven, this Saviour said, “It is finished.” The two dates, with their intervening lifetime of thirty years, crush up into one great demiurgic day, a great divine day, with its morning softly spread on the hills of Bethlehem, with its sun going down amidst sombre clouds on Calvary; and it will depend a little on temperament, and still more on personal experience, whether it is on the morning or evening of Christ’s “day” that the spirit mainly dwells: whether it be at the cradle of Incarnate Deity or at the cross of Atoning Omnipotence that it finds the wished-for consolation, and is prepared to depart in peace.

Christ our paschal lamb has been sacrificed for us. It is a sacrifice which needs not to be repeated, but surely it deserves to be commemorated; and if we are loyal to our Divine Benefactor and true to our own interest, we shall not fail to do thus much in remembrance of Him.

“But what mean ye by this service?” asks your son or asks the attentive spectator. And you make answer, “It was a night much to be remembered. Our wdiole family had fallen into captivity and servitude. We had become the thralls of Satan, — the world itself one vast house of bondage, and its different inhabitants the slaves of divers lusts and passions. But at last there came into our house of bondage one who did not originally belong to it. He was God’s own Son. In His spirit there was nothing servile. The largest slave- owners tried to have Him, — Gold, Ambition, Appetite, Apollyon himself, all came up to Him, each hiding a chain behind his back, and in the other hand holding ont the lures which had hardly ever been known to fail. But there was no danger of their succeeding, — He despised their image and looked them through and through — looked them through and through — saw the foul purpose in their heart, saw the noose behind their back, and finding nothing in Him, discomfited they went their way. And then as if in this prophet like unto Moses a Joseph also had come again, He went and harangued His brethren. He sought to inspire them with those high thoughts which were familiar to His own free-born spirit, and on some — sons of Zebedee and others — His words so wrought that their abject eyes looked up and they leaped as if they had already lost their chains. And had it been with a mere taskmaster and tyrant that He had to deal — a Pharaoh or Apollyon who had no hold of right — He soon had set them free. But over all there hung a heavy sentence in sad and sinful earnest incurred, and which could not be lightly repealed. Yes, before He could give life to them — to say nothing of liberty — a life free from forfeiture, He must give a life for them. Those immediately around Him were amazed. They could not understand it. They remonstrated, they begged that He would never think of it. They little knew the exigency. But He knew it well, and in awful far-seeing self-sacrifice went forward to the hour, for the sake of which He had come into the world. It was the fulness of time, and the cup of man’s wretchedness and sin ran over — the signal for redemption. That same April month had come — that same full moon was hanging over Olivet which fifteen centuries before had lighted the ransomed of the Lord from Goshen to Succoth, and the feast of Israel’s Redemption was about to be kept in the stirring streets of Jerusalem. He kept it Himself, and saying to the Father, “Father, the hour is come — the hour for whose sake I came into the world,” He explained to His friends as far as they were able to bear it what was about to transpire. He hinted that for the protection of sinners a life more precious was needful than the life of this paschal lamb. “Eat this bread, and think of my body about to be broken — drink this cup, and remember my blood about to be shed for the remission of sins,” and lo, he that betrayed Him was at hand; before another evening Christ the Lamb of God, our passover, was sacrificed for us. The price was paid, even that price which frees from second death and present condemnation, and with the penalty repealed and the sin-thraldom broken, those are free indeed whom the Son of God makes free.

Woful is the slavery where the higher nature is in thraldom to the lower: as happened not unfrequently in days scarcely yet forgotten. A scholar, a traveller, a high-born gentleman, fell into the hands of pirates, and was carried off to some robber -nest on the Barbary shore, and there for the rest of life was he left to languish — rowing the galley, grooming the charger, tending the cattle of his Moslem master. Could aught be more bitter and heart-breaking? — to have tastes and aspirations which he could no loncer cultivate, friends and kindred whom he could no longer see, a faith which he could only confess to incur taunts and mockery? It was not the drudgery — hateful as that might be, — but it was this horrible frustration of existence — this subjection of high capacities to a thraldom coarse and cruel. And man was free-M born. Adam was the son of God, and if yon are the servant of sin — if you are the slave of appetite or passion — if any sin has dominion over you, — you are in a state most unnatural — altogether unlike man’s original, and most unworthy of a nature once free and strong for good. Perhaps you are not content; perhaps you are conscious of an occasional struggle. Eeminiscences of the first estate come over you, like the sight of his country’s flag, like the scent of some familiar flower which grew in the garden of his youth, and which fills with tears the exile’s eyes — visitations come across your spirit of compunction and regret, and you exclaim, “0 that I were free! 0 that I were strong for good! 0 that I were able to bring under the body and keep it in subjection! 0 that I could break these chains of evil habit, and claim the glorious liberty of the sons of God! I detest my tyrant, I despise myself for so long enduring his odious despotism; but oh! wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me?” Are you indeed in earnest? Are you sick of sin’s slavery and anxious to escape from Egypt? Then give yourself to Christ. If He claims you none can keep you, and if you cast yourself on Him He will not refuse you. Redeemed by His most precious blood, Divine justice has no desire to detain you, and Sin and Satan have no right. Rejoicing to succour those who seek to follow righteousness, but who confess that their strength is small, to your help will come the Holy Spirit, and, fostering the good desires which He himself enkindles, He will carry you from strength still forward unto strength, till you appear before God in Zion a redeemed and ransomed spirit — free from condemnation ever since the first step was taken, and now free from the body of death, free from besetting sins, free from temptation and all further risk of falling.