“Now, my children, just what a picture is to the object which it represents, so is a type to its antitype; that word means the real thing of which it is a likeness,” observed Mrs. Temple.
“I am afraid that I am very stupid in not making out what you mean at once, dear mamma,” said Amy; “but if you would explain just one type in the Bible, I think that I might understand better.”
“Let us take, then, the innermost part of the Tabernacle, the Holy of holies,” replied Mrs. Temple. “It was a very beautiful place, full of the glory of God, into which no objects were allowed to be but such as were precious and pure; there was the mercy-seat like a throne, and there were the bright cherubim spreading their golden wings. Now, my children, if we compare small things to great things, cannot you of yourselves find out of what this Holy of holies was a picture or a type?”
“A type of heaven!” exclaimed several voices at once; but Amy looked distressed, and murmured softly, “I hope not a type of heaven.”
“And why not?” asked Lucius, quickly.
“Because no one was ever allowed to go into the Holy of holies save one man, and he only once in the year,” replied Amy, sadly.
“And that not without blood,” said Lucius, pointing to the seventh verse of the chapter which his mother had just been reading.
“Go on reading, Lucius,” said his parent, and Lucius, as desired, went on. “Not without blood, which he offered for himself and for the errors of the people, the Holy Ghost thus signifying that the way into the holiest of all was not yet made manifest.”
“Or, in simpler words,” said Mrs. Temple, “that the way into heaven was not yet made plain. When Christ, our great High Priest, had gone into heaven, neither by the blood, of goats and calves, but by His own blood He entered once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us.”
“Then, mother, the high priest must have been a TYPE of the Lord Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Lucius.