Joseph—Old Age and Death

By faith Joseph, when his end was nigh, made mention of the departure of the children of Israel; and gave commandment concerning his bones. — Hebrews 11: 22.

Old — are we growing old?
Life blooms as we travel on
Up the hills, into fresh, lovely dawn;
We are children who do but begin
The sweetness of life to win.
Because heaven is in us, to bud and unfold,
We are younger for growing old! — Lucy Larcom.

A RECORD in Genesis tells us that Joseph said to his brothers one day: ‘‘I die: but God will surely visit you, and bring you up out of this land unto the land which he sware to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.” And Joseph took an oath of the children of - Israel, saying, ‘‘God will surely visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence.;

Our last study brought us to the close of Jacob’s life. Word was sent to Joseph one day that his father wished to see him. The old man was thinking of his departure. He knew that he must die in Egypt, but he did not want to be buried in that strange land. He wanted to lie in the land of promise. So he asked Joseph to swear to him, in the rude fashion of the times, that he would

not bury him in Egypt.
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Joseph promised. ‘‘Swear unto me,” said Jacob. And Joseph sware unto him. It was no mere sentiment that made the old man, as his end drew nigh, crave to lie beside his father and his wife in the cave of Machpelah; it was his strong faith in God’s promise to give Canaan to his descendants. He believed that the promise would be fulfilled and he wanted his grave to be where the future home of his children would be. Then he wanted his family, though still abiding in Egypt, to have a constant reminder that Egypt was not theirhome. He knew that his grave in the land of promise would continually draw upon their hearts.

There was another incident. Jacob was sick. Joseph heard it and hastened with his two sons to his father’s bedside. Jacob adopted these boys as his own, taking them in among his own sons, kissing and embracing them, then stretching out his thin, trembling hands and laying them on the heads of the lads, while he uttered this beautiful benediction upon them:

‘‘God before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac did walk, the God which hath fed me all my life long unto this day, the angel which hath redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads; and let my name be named on them.”

Then we have the death scene. All the sons are there and the dying patriarch, in prophetic words, unveils the future of each in turn. We need not linger on these patriarchal predictions, interesting as they are. But it is interesting to note the blessing pronounced upon Joseph:

Joseph is a fruitful bough,

A fruitful bough by a fountain;

His branches run over the wall.

The archers have sorely grieved him,

And shot at him, and persecuted him:

But his bow abode in strength,

And the arms of his hands were made strong,

By the hands of the Mighty One of Jacob.

(From thence is the shepherd, the stone of Israel,) Even by the God of thy father, who shall help thee, With blessings of heaven above,

Blessings of the deep that coucheth beneath, Blessings of the breast, and of the womb.

The blessings of thy father

Have prevailed above the blessings of my progenitors

Unto the utmost bound of the everlasting hills:

They shall be on the head of Joseph,

And on the crown of the head of him that was separate from his brethren.

It is a solemn moment to a man when he stands by the deathbed of a loved and honored father. He lives over again all his own life as he watches the last breathings of his sire, and listens to the last words of farewell and benediction. Those were intensely solemn moments to Joseph. All his honors seemed small as he stood there by that patriarchal bed and felt on his head the touch of the hand now growing cold in death.

At length the feeble voice” ceased: to speak. The blessings were all pronounced. Then came the dying charge. ‘‘Bury me with my fathers in the cave that is in the field of Ephron.” And when Jacob made an end of charging his sons, he gathered up his feet into the bed, and yielded up the ghost, and was gathered unto his people. What a strange thing is death! He who but a little while ago was breathing out his blessings and his farewells, is gone now, away from earth. The old house is empty. The love that thrilled the heart with its tenderness and flushed the face with its glow and warmth, an hour ago, has passed from earth. Tennyson writes:

Life and thought have gone away
Side by side,
Leaving door and window wide — Careless tenants they!

All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before —

Close the door, the shutters close, Or through the windows we shall see The nakedness and vacancy

Of the dark deserted house.

So that sacred form looked to Joseph as he stood by the bedside and saw that the breathing had ceased. Strange mystery of dying! How orphaned it leaves us when it is a father or a mother that is gone. We never get ready to lose our parents. No matter how old they are, how ripe their life, how full their years, the time never comes when we can lose them without a pang. Life is never quite the same again when they have left us. One writes of the

home when the mother has gone from it:

The fire sends forth its ruddy glow, The brazen lamp is brightly lit Within the room, where long ago, Dear mother always used to sit. This was her chair.... Ah, fire and lamp Are hopeless things where ghosts abide. The spot seems ever dark and damp Since mother died.

Here is her workbox on the shelf —

Her little bird bides there — poor thing! In those old times, the merry elf

Did nothing all day long but sing.
’Tis silent now; it sadly broods,

And ’neath its wing its head doth hide; We cannot understand its moods

Since mother died.

The clock, too, on the western wall,

The clock her hand so often wound, Like some dead friend is mute to all,

Its silver bell gives forth no sound, Before its corpse-like face I cower

And note its lifeless hands stretched wide; It never once hath told the hour

Since mother died.

Days come and go — now fast, now slow — And is the weather foul or fair? Is that the sunshine or the snow? I know not. Here’s her vacant chair. And nought is as it used to be When we were happy at her side; Life, love, seem sorely changed to me Since mother died.

It is always so when either father or mother is gone. Life is never the same again. Something has gone out of our life, something very precious, which we never can have again. Never more a mother’s prayers — lost and missed now for the first day since we were born. No more a father’s love, thought, care, and hope, in this world, — wanting now, first, since infancy. The consciousness of bereavement is keener when a parent is taken away in the child’s earlier years, and the loss is greater, in a sense, but perhaps the pain is no deeper. No wonder that Joseph fell upon his father’s face and wept upon him and kissed him, when he saw that he was dead. His grief was sore, his sense of loss was great.

Quickly Joseph set about to do all that love could do to honor the name and memory of his father. The body was embalmed. Then followed seventy days of mourning — according to the custom in Egypt. After this the patriarch’s dying command was obeyed, and the twelve sons, with many Egyptian friends, among them men of rank, bore the body away to Canaan, and laid it to rest beside the bodies of his kindred.

It was at Hebron, in the cave of Machpelah. This cave is covered now by a great Mohammedan mosque. The entrance is so sacredly guarded that none save Mohammedans can enter it. There are shrines ‘in the mosque for each of the dead who sleep beneath — Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, Leah, Jacob. In the interior of the sacred building is a small circular opening which leads down into the ancient cave, where, no doubt, the twelve sons of Jacob laid the embalmed body of their father. Mohammedanism cannot always keep such jealous guard over that sacred burying-place, and it is the dream of many that some day this cave may be opened and explored, and that the mummy of Jacob may be found, as, recently, in Egyptian burying-places the mummies of many distinguished men, including one of the Pharaohs of the days of Moses, have been discovered.

After the burial of his father the story of Joseph is almost a blank. Only one incident is given. When Jacob was gone the brothers grew uneasy. They thought that their father’s influence had restrained Joseph from seeking revenge upon them for their sin against him, and they feared that now, when this restraint had been taken away, Joseph would visit punishment upon them. The memory of sin dies hard. It had been forty years since this wrong was committed, and for seventeen years the brothers had lived in the sunshine of Joseph’s forgiveness, nourished by his love, without a word or an act to suggest aught of resentment; yet here we find the old dread still lingering. Guilt makes cowards of men. Sins against love plant thorns in the heart.

Joseph wept when he heard his brothers’ words. It pained him to learn that they doubted his love and forgiveness. When you have been a loyal and faithful friend to another, loving him unselfishly, making sacrifices for him, giving of your life’s strength and skill to help him, putting honor upon him, it grieves you sorely to have him misunderstand you, suspect your sincerity and doubt your affection. Seventeen years of such generous love as Joseph had shown to his brothers in Egypt ought to have made it forever impossible that they should doubt or suspect his forgiveness. Do we ever treat our friends sor Do we never treat Christ sor Do we never doubt his forgiveness, or question his love for us? Let us not grieve that gentle heart by even the faintest doubt of a love that is infinite in its truth and its tenderness.

Joseph was pained when he heard of the

fears and the distrust of his brothers, but his patience did not fail. ‘‘ Fear not,’’ he said to them: ‘“‘for am I in the place of God? And as for you, ye meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive. Now therefore fear ye not: I will nourish you, and your little ones.” This was his answer to their distrust. It takes a large heart to love on in spite of doubt, suspicion and unwholesome discontent; but Joseph had a large heart. His generous love never failed. In this case its warm tides overflowed the new barriers his brothers’ distrust had cast into the channel and buried them out of sight. His answer was only a new assurance of affection undisturbed by their treatment; he would nourish them in the days to come as he had done in the past. He would share his honor with them. He would provide for them in the land where they were strangers. He would care for their children. So he comforted them and spoke kindly unto them.

After this incident Joseph lived fifty-four years, but nothing whatever is told us of these years. We can picture to ourselves a ripe and beautiful old age, full of honors and full of usefulness. He had saved Egypt and there is no reason to suppose that he failed to receive the gratitude of the people of the country unto the end of his course.

We know that his life continued beautiful to its close. Sometimes old age does not fulfil the prophecy and the promise of the earlier years. Sometimes men who live nobly and richly until they have passed the meridian of their days, lose in the splendor of their character and the sweetness of their spirit as they move toward the sunset. A great: many sermons are preached to the young. No doubt youth has its perils and needs constant warnings. But there is need also of wise words of counsel to those who are growing old. Old age has its perils and its temptations. It is hard to bear the honors of a good and worthy life, as they gather about the head when the years multiply, and not bespoiled by them. It is hard to keep the heart humble, and the life simple and gentle, when one stands amid the successes, the achievements, the fruits of one’s life’s victories, in the days of a prosperous old age. Some old men grow vain in their self-consciousness. They become garrulous, especially about themselves and their own past.

The ease and freedom from care which come sometimes as the fitting reward of a life of hardship, toil and sacrifice, do not always prove the happiest conditions, nor those in which the character shows at its best. Some men who were splendid in incessant action, when bearing great loads and meeting large responsibilities, and in enduring sore trials, are not nearly so noble when they have been compelled to lay down their burdens, drop their tasks and step out of the crowding, surging ranks into the quiet ways of those whose life work is mainly finished. They chafe in standing still. Their peace is broken in the very days when it should be calmest and sweetest. They are unwilling to confess that they are growing old and to yield their places of burden and responsibility to younger men. Too often they make the mistake of overstaying their best usefulness in positions which they have filled with wisdom and honor in the past, but which with their waning powers they can no longer fill acceptably and well. In this respect old age puts life to a crucial test.

Then sometimes old age grows unhappy and discontented. We cannot wonder at this. It becomes lonely, as one by one its sweet friendships and its close companionships fall off in the resistless desolation that death makes. Then it is hard to keep sweet and gentle-spirited when the hands are empty and one must stand aside and see others do the things one used to do himself. Feebleness of health, too, comes in ofttimes as an element which adds to the hardness of living beautifully when one is old.

These are some of the reasons why old age is a Severer testing time of character than youth or mid-life. Many men who live nobly and richly while in their prime fail in their old age. The grace of Christ, however, is sufficient for the testings and the trials of the old as well as of the young. We should set ourselves the task of making the whole day of life to its last moments beautiful. The late afternoon should be as lovely with its deep blue and its holy quiet as the forenoon, with its freshness; and the sunsetting as glorious with its splendor of amber and gold as the sunrising with its radiance and brightness. The old, or those growing old, should never feel for a moment that their work, even their best work, is done, when they can no longer march and keep step in the columns with youth and strong manhood. The work of the riper years is just as important as that of the earlier years. Young men for action, old men for counsel. The life that one may live in the quieter time, when the rush and the strife are left behind, may be even more lovely, more Christlike, more helpful than was the life of the more exciting, stirring time that is gone. Lifeoughtto grow more beautiful every day to its close. Let no one think that he has finished his task of sweet, true living when he has got safely through the years of mid-life, into the borders of old age. No; we must not slacken our diligence, our earnestness, our fidelity, our prayerfulness, our faith in Christ, until we have come to the gate of eternity. God’s plan for our life takes in all.

‘«‘ Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made; Our times are in his hands who saith, ‘A whole I planned: Youth shows but half: Trust God: see all, nor be afraid.’”’

Dr. Chalmers wrote: ‘‘It is a favorite speculation of mine, that if spared to sixty years of age, we then enter the seventh decade of human life; and that this, if possible, should be turned into the Sabbath of our earthly pilgrimage, and spent sabbatically, as if on the shores of an eternal world, or, aS it were, in the outer courts of the temple that is above, the tabernacle that is in heaven.” My correspondent, himself an old man, living in this Sabbath of his own life and trying to make it truly a Lord’s day, adds: ‘‘ A beautiful thought, and as true as beautiful. Age is a time for waiting, praying, hoping, and for reflecting to others, something of the peace and love of the heaven we are nearing, and of the Christ we hope soon to see.”

At last the time came for Joseph to die, as this time must come to all. ‘And Joseph said unto his brethren, ‘I die: but God will surely visit you, and bring you up out of this land unto the land which he sware to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.’ And Joseph took an oath of the children of Israel, saying, ‘God will surely visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence.’”’ Then the record goes on giving the end of the story: ‘‘So Joseph died, being an hundred and ten years old: and they embalmed him, and he was put in a coffin in Egypt.”

Embalming was a costly process. When the body had been prepared it was wrapped in bands of fine linen and placed in a stone or wooden coffin or mummy case. The Egyptian funeral rites were very elaborate. Because of his great service to the country Joseph might have had a burial with the highest honors; but he refused all this. It is said that among theruins of that wonderful land there has been discovered a tomb which it is thought was prepared for Joseph. It is near the pyramid of one of the Pharaohs. It is the tomb of a prince. It bears the name ‘‘Eitsuph’’ — or Joseph, and the title ‘‘ Abrech”’ which means ‘‘ Bow the knee.” If this tomb was prepared for Joseph he refused to have his body rest in it. He was not an Egyptian, but an Israelite. Like Moses, afterwards, he preferred to share the reproaches of his own people rather than receive the honors of a heathen nation. Joseph was not buried at all in

Egypt. His body was embalmed there, but not entombed. Egypt had long been his homes it had beens-the scené of; all his honors and triumphs. His wife was an Egyptian. His friends were Egyptians. But he was still a loyal Israelite, and would not lie in an Egyptian grave. He would be buried in an Israelite grave. This is the first thought which Joseph’s dying command suggests. He was patriotic.

But there are other thoughts. Jn the Epistle to the Hebrews when the faith of Joseph is spoken of, it is remarkable that it is this command concerning his bones that is mentioned. ‘‘By faith Joseph, when his end was nigh, made mention of the departure of the children of Israel; and gave commandment concerning his bones.” How did this show his faith? It showed that he believed God’s promises concerning his people. His faith was so strong that he refused to be buried at all in Egypt; his burial must wait until his people went up out of Egypt to their own land.

Mark the difference in the dying requests of Jacob and Joseph. Jacob, too, refused to be buried in Egypt. He had spent seventeen happy years there, and his family was well settled, with his son honored in all the land. But he could not die until he had the pledge that he would be buried beside his kindred. Joseph’s request was different. He was not to*be buried in Egypt, yet his body was not to be carried to Canaan until his people should go there. He was so confident of their exodus that his mummy was not to be laid in the grave at all until they went back to the land of promise.

There was a special reason why. Joseph made his will in this way. He wanted even his bones to do good after his death. His people would need all the influences that could be put into their lives, in the long, dark years of trial before them, to keep alive in their hearts the memory of the promises, love for Canaan, and the hope of possessing that land. The graves of their fathers were there — that made the country dear to love and hope. But Joseph felt that his mummy left among them unburied, waiting to be carried away to Canaan and buried there, would do more to keep hope alive in their hearts than if it lay at rest yonder in the cave of Machpelah. Every time they saw it they would remember why it was unburied, and their thoughts would turn toward their land of promise.

By and by it grew very dark in Egypt. The dynasty of the Pharaohs who had been Joseph’s friends gave way to anew dynasty who cared not for his memory and were jealous of the growth of the Israelites.. Bitter oppression followed. In those days of gloom, who knows how much the unburied mummy of Joseph, with its unspoken words of hope, helped to keep the people from despair P:

Then one night there was great excitement in Goshen. The hour of departure fad comes. -Hére wise they record And Moses took the bones of Joseph with him: for he had straitly sworn the children, saying, ‘God will surely visit you; and ye shall carry up my bones away hence with you.’” Then followed forty years of weary marching and wandering, and during all this time the mummy of Joseph was in the column or in the camp.

At length there was a funeral one day at Shechem, and those bones, in their Egyptian mummy case, were laid to rest by Joshua. Here again is the record: ‘‘ And the bones of Joseph... buried they in Shechem, in the parcel of ground which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamor.” When tourists journey in the Holy Land they are shown at Shechem the tomb of Joseph. It is but a little way from the pit at Dothan, into which his brothers cast him to die. So the great wrong is righted, for the world now honors his grave.

We may take two lessons from Joseph’s dying words. One is a lesson of faith. ‘1 die: and God will surely visit you.” He would die, but God would live on and his work would goon. ‘‘ God buries his workmen, but carries on his work.”” We have only our little fragment to buildin the wall. Then we shall die, but the work will go on, for God lives on and his plans and purpose shalt not.

The other lesson is, that we should live so that the memory of our life and its influence, when we are gone, shall inspire those who stay behind. The memory of the just is blessed. Joseph’s embalmed body, kept among his people, spoke not only of his noble work in the past, but declared ever the word of hope for the future. It said: ‘‘This is not yourhome. You are but tarrying here as strangers and pilgrims. By and by you will go on.”

Such should ever be the impression that our life makes and that our memory keeps alive in other hearts. We should so live that when we are gone every recollection of us shall make others think of heaven as home. We have not lived at our best if the memory of our life only makes our friends think of us. The true life must ever speak of things spiritual and eternal.

Let us seek then to be so filled with Christ that every influence of our life shall incite men upward, toward God, and onward, toward imperishable things, starting in every heart the prayer of divine discontent —

«‘O for man to arise in me, That the man that I am may cease to be.”

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