Women in white raiment

by John Lemley

It was the fixed habit of Elkanah to go with his family “yearly to worship and to sacrifice unto the Lord of Hosts in Shiloh.” On one of these yearly visits, Hannah poured out her prayer in great sobs and tears. She was very definite in her petition. She asked for a son, not that she might know the joy of motherhood, but that God might be glorified. She promised that she would “give him unto the Lord all the days of his life.” And so earnest was she in pressing her suit, that Eli the priest thought her drunk, and reproved her for her conduct. But she bravely told him her story. She said she was a “woman of a sorrowful spirit.” She had drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but had poured out her soul before the Lord.

The spirit of prophecy came upon the good old man, and though he knew nothing of the nature of her prayer, he promised its fulfillment. “Go in peace: and the God of Israel grant thee thy petition that thou hast asked of Him.” Hannah believed, and she “went her way, and did eat, and her countenance was no more sad.”

After her beautiful boy was born, and began to show his charming baby ways, she trembled under his dainty caresses, and the kisses of his pure, sweet mouth, for she remembered her vow; but she was true and faithful.

It is a brave, strong, submissive mother who can give up without a murmur the child that God takes to Himself; but to know that he is alive somewhere, and at that very hour may be grieving for lack of the love and care that only a mother can give, O how that ordeal must rend the heart! Just that was the test of Hannah’s loyalty. In just that severe balance of obedience and trust was she weighed, and she was not found wanting.

When her child was old enough to be left without a mother’s watchful care she took him to the Tabernacle and gave him to Eli, to be brought up as a child of the sanctuary. “I have lent him to the Lord,” she said, “and as long as he lives he shall be lent unto the Lord.” Not for a few days or weeks did she give him up, but she gave him wholly and with a sacrifice that only a mother could understand, she consented that the little feet for whose pattering she had longed should be heard no more in her cottage, that the prattle for whose music her lonely heart had waited a lifetime should sound no more in her ears, but that she should live on till the end alone, glad to know that he was all the Lord’s, and was giving back to God the blessing which he had brought to her. This is love and this is the difference between the love of earth and the love of heaven. Earthly love loves for the pleasure it can find in loving. Heavenly love loves for the blessing it can give to the loved one. Hannah knew that her sacrifice was best for Samuel, and that in giving him to God she was getting more for him than a mother’s selfish fondness could ever have bestowed.

And yet there was still the sweet thought behind it all that he was hers. She was not losing him but lending him, and God counted her sacrifice a real service, and some day would restore the loan with infinite and eternal additions.

When Hannah had triumphed over her own heart, and her boy was safely under the care and instruction of Eli, to be used to the utmost in the Lord’s service, she sung her song of thanksgiving for the birth of her son. Her hymn is in the highest order of prophetic poetry. Its resemblance to that of the Virgin Mary has been noticed by Bible students, and is specially remarkable as containing the first designation of the Messiah under that name. Though written in the days of scant literary attainment, the song of Hannah is an exquisite piece of composition. It is full of keen insight and superb power. Besides what was written by Moses, men wrote but little poetry in that early time. The hymns of Miriam, Deborah and Hannah have rare beauty. It was the daughters rather than the sons who prophesied in song.

But while the child Samuel, “girded with a linen ephod,” “ministered before the Lord,” in the Tabernacle, in Shiloh, the loving mother heart, in her home, was stitching her beautiful thoughts year after year into the little coat which she annually brought to him, “when she came up with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice.” And we may well believe that Hannah’s loyalty and good sense made plain, serviceable garments, so that the mind of the young Samuel was not diverted from his Tabernacle duties to gay and bright colors in his tunics, and so his young heart was kept from the blight of pride. This was the lad’s high privilege. He was always a holy child. He never knew the defiling breath of wickedness. This may be the privilege of your child, Christian mother. God help you to protect your innocent babe from the foul breath of sin’s contamination and always to shelter that trusting life under the protecting wings of God. This may be your privilege, happy Christian child, who perchance may read these lines to-day. Oh, let God have your earliest years and may you never know the mystery of iniquity and the memories of sin and shame which, though they may be forgiven, yet come back to defile and distress the heart.

But Samuel was not holy and good by natural birth or disposition. It was not because that he was good anyhow by temperament. The keynote of his life was, “Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth.” At first even he made some mistakes and misunderstood the voice that spake to him so gently in his little chamber. Three times it called to him in vain, and he thought it was the old priest’s message, but even when he understood not he still responded and sprang to his feet, ready instantly to obey.

The very peculiarities of Samuel’s call lingered in his later life in his messages to Saul, “Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams.” All his blessings had come to him by hearkening and obeying, and all Saul’s calamities had come to him because he willfully took his own way and refused to listen to God.