[December 31.]
GOD MAGNIFIED IN HIS WORKS.[C]
By G. CHAPLIN CHILD, M. D.
In an outlying province of the Turkish empire, where sultan and firman are often superseded by the lawless will of sheik or pacha, two famous rivers—Tigris and Euphrates—gradually converge, and, after mingling their waters together, glide gently onward to the Persian Gulf. In the fork thus formed between them stretches a vast plain, made known to us in early Scripture history as Shinar, Chaldæa, and Babylon, as well as by other less familiar names, but to which the term Mesopotamia has been more usually applied, as it aptly designates a district “lying between rivers.” The general aspect of this plain is one of desolation. Fertile strips here and there border the Euphrates’ banks, and willows are still seen flourishing where the sorrowing Israelites once hung up their harps; but away from those green fringes the eye wanders over wild, dreary wastes from which the last traces of cultivation are slowly dying out. Vast tracts lie soaked in permanent swamps, while much of the remaining land is, at one period of the year, flooded by the unheeded inundations of the neighboring rivers, and, at another, baked into an arid desert by the burning rays of the sun. It need scarcely be said that population has almost disappeared from those melancholy plains; for the wandering Arab is little tempted to pitch his tent or to pasture his flocks on so sterile a soil. The doom that was so clearly foretold by the prophets has fallen upon it, and Babylon now “lies desolate in the sight of all that pass by.” It has become the “habitation of the beasts of the desert.” As the traveler plods onward over its unfrequented tracts, the startled wild-fowl rises with quick splash from the reedy pool, or a few scared gazelles may perhaps be descried bounding over the distant plain. The “owl” and the “bittern,” the jackal and the hyena add their testimony to the exactness with which the words of Scripture have been fulfilled. More rarely a solitary lion may be seen skulking among the strange, mysterious mounds and “heaps” of stones that loom here and there above the plain.
Mournful and dreary though this land now be, it is and ever will remain one of the most interesting spots on earth. It was not always “desolate.” No other place, perhaps, claims with a better title to be regarded as the scene where our first parents walked together in paradise. Such, at least, has been the common tradition; and in a well-known edition of the Bible, published in 1599, may be found a map of the Garden of Eden, of which the site of Babylon forms the center. But, be that as it may, there can be no doubt of its former greatness and fertility, for the record is plainly written all over the soil. Everywhere it is furrowed by ruined canals, of which some tell us of departed commerce and wealth, others of skillful irrigation and abundant crops. Heaps of rubbish are to be met with in which lie hidden fragments of pottery which bear witness to the former presence of a highly cultivated people; and uncouth mounds rise strangely above the plain, in which the last relics of palaces and cities are buried together. For centuries history appeared to have lost her hold upon the great places of the past, and it is only within the last few years that some of them have been rescued from the oblivion that was slowly creeping over them. Questioned by the light of modern knowledge those mysterious stones of the plains open up to us the first page in the history of nations—transport us back almost to the dawn where antiquity begins, and bring within our sight those to whom the deluge was a recent event. They impart a substance to scenes we have often tried in vain to realize. In imagination we see Nimrod the Mighty Hunter, busy with the foundations of the city of Babel on the neighboring Euphrates’ banks, and piling up the “tower that was to reach Heaven.” Then it was that the patriarchal dignity of early Bible records expanded into royalty, and Babylon became the starting point in the long pedigree of kingdoms.
Babylon touched the zenith of its grandeur two thousand four hundred and fifty years ago, when Nebuchadnezzar sat upon the throne. He was the great warrior of that age. After overrunning Egypt he had returned to his capital laden with its spoil; he had chastised his rebellious subjects and treacherous allies, and he had utterly crushed the power of the Kings of Judah. The wicked and faithless Jehoiakim, blind to the warnings he received, had brought a terrible doom upon his country; for Nebuchadnezzar, not content with plundering the treasuries of the temple at Jerusalem, carried the king himself a prisoner to Babylon. Among the captives on this occasion were included Daniel the Prophet and his three friends,—Ananias, Azarias, and Misael, who in the land of their exile received the Chaldæan names of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.
Nebuchadnezzar was no less great in the arts of peace than in those of war. He, therefore, encouraged learned men to make his capital their resort, and he also promoted the national prosperity by favoring agriculture and commerce. He dug canals in all directions to fertilize the land by irrigation. His merchants traded along the rich shores of the Mediterranean, and penetrated even to remote China. He provided for the security of Babylon by building or strengthening its walls, and he made it beautiful by adorning it with palaces. Its “hanging-gardens” were acknowledged throughout ancient times to be one of the wonders of the world, and their fame has endured up to this very hour.
At the court of such a monarch, Daniel’s learning was sure to procure for him distinction, and he soon became a member of the college of Magi or wise men. His subsequent success in interpreting Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, after all others had failed, raised him to the first rank in the tyrant’s favor, and we are told that “he sat in the gate of the king.” Nor in his prosperity did he forget his three Jewish friends,—Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego,—who through his influence were promoted to be governors in the province of Babylon.
The history of Nebuchadnezzar and the burning, fiery furnace—so illustrative on the one hand of perfect trust in God, and, on the other, of God’s power to deliver his servants from the assaults of their enemies—is endeared to all as one of the interesting Scripture narratives by which those who watched over us in the days of childhood endeavored to attract us onward to the knowledge of our Bible. In the book of Daniel it is related how Nebuchadnezzar, after having been brought by the miraculous interpretation of his dream to acknowledge the “God of Gods and Lord of Kings,” subsequently relapsed into idolatry through the corrupting influence of worldly prosperity. In the full swell of his pride he set up a golden image, and commanded that all his subjects should fall down and worship it. The Babylonian nobles were jealous of the favor shown to the three captives; and they, therefore, encouraged this wicked fancy of the king, because it seemed to open out the means of effecting their ruin. They rightly calculated that the Hebrew Governors would never forsake the God of their Fathers, nor worship the image which the king had set up. And we know that when the hour of trial did come, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego remained true to their faith; and were forthwith bound and cast into the burning, fiery furnace, as a punishment for their disobedience to the tyrant’s will.
From the torments and dangers of this ordeal the three Hebrews were miraculously preserved. Daniel tells us that Nebuchadnezzar himself saw them “loose and walking in the midst of the fire.” “Not a hair of their heads was singed, neither were their coats changed, nor had the smell of fire passed on them.” Elsewhere, in the Song of the Three Children, we are told that “they walked in the midst of the fire, praising God, and blessing the Lord.” After so signal a deliverance, it is easy to conceive the fervor with which their hymn of gratitude was poured forth. The deepest consciousness of the merciful power of God welled up in their hearts and burst from their lips, and the whole universe was ransacked for illustrations to typify and express it. In whatever direction they turned, they beheld Nature crowded with emblems of his greatness and mercy, and they eagerly seized upon them as aids to bring their thoughts up to the fervor of their adoration. Shall not we also do wisely to profit by their example? Our daily obligations to God may not be so miraculous, in the ordinary meaning of the term, but they are, nevertheless, great and countless beyond our power to conceive. Let us then, in humble consciousness of the poverty and imperfection of our thanksgivings, gladly make this suggestive hymn our own; and let us on this, as on all occasions, accept with joy every aid that helps us to “bless, praise, and magnify the Lord.”