How was it with the patriarch Abraham when his faith had to endure one of the severest conflicts recorded in Scripture,—when he was commanded to offer up the son whom he loved? Dark was the night around him, his natural affections were enlisted on the enemy’s side; but conscience sounded the call to obedience, while faith firmly grasped the promise, In Isaac shall thy seed be called: so dashing down, as the earthen vessels were dashed, any doubts or misgivings that would have obscured the light of that promise, Abraham triumphed because he believed, and received the reward of his faith.
In such an instance as this, to return to the simile of the tree, we see the ripe fruits of faith. The sun of God’s grace has shone so brightly, the dew of His Spirit has rested so fully upon it, that we behold it at length in all its sweetness, richness, and beauty. Christian brethren, be content with nothing short of this. We see too many with whom it appears as if their graces never would ripen. There is a crudeness, a hardness about their religion, which, if it do not make us doubt its nature, at least takes from it all its charm. Faith cannot be fully developed where the softness of humility, the sweetness of charity, are unknown. It is of the man who not only yields obedience to the commandments, but delights in the law of the Lord, that it is written, He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth it shall prosper.
CHAPTER XXI.
BONDAGE.
“Look at them out of the window! no, indeed! If they are so anxious to see their sister after a four years’ separation, let them come to her in her chamber of sickness,” was Cora’s reply to an affectionate message from the newly-arrived travellers conveyed to her through Isa. “Since strangers are not afraid of infection,” she continued with a sneer, “it shows that the danger may be braved even by those who have not, like Arthur Madden, a reputation for heroic self-devotion.”
“Still the bitterness—still the satire: can trial and sickness teach her nothing?” thought Isa, as she left the room to send, in softened form, the ungracious message of Cora to her brother and sister, who were waiting in front of the house which they were forbidden to enter. Isa had already explained to Cora how great would be to Arthur the useless risk of a meeting, she had therefore felt it unnecessary to reply to a sarcasm which was at once so ungenerous and unjust.