Little Folks (November 1884) / A Magazine for the Young

by Various

If he could only undo the past; if he could only be as he was a short time ago, clear of this guilt, how thankful he would be! But there it was, staring him in the face, and he could not blot out the memory of it. He fancied himself again getting a kid from amongst his flock; giving it to his mother to dress, so that his father would not know it from venison; stooping down, while she put on the back of his neck small pieces of the kid's skin, that it might feel, to the blind Isaac, like the hairy skin of his brother Esau; carrying in the smoking-hot dish; telling, one after another, gross falsehoods, in reply to the questions put by his puzzled father; repeating oft his assurances that he was indeed Isaac's very son Esau; and bowing his head to receive the blessing intended for his elder brother. Once more, in imagination, he was hurrying out of his father's apartment; and the loud and bitter cry of his wronged brother was ringing through the tent, never to die away or be forgotten. He saw again his brother white with rage, and heard him take the solemn oath, that, as soon as the mourning for his father was over, he would be avenged. He heard his frightened mother plead with Isaac, that he might be sent away to her brother in Padan Aram. He heard his father's consent, and saw his mother packing up the few things that he needed, and sending him away with her blessing and with floods of tears. He remembered how, when he had turned round to take a last look at his home; she was still standing in the door of the tent, watching, as far as she could see him, the son of her love, and wiping her streaming eyes.

And now he was lying on the bare ground, with only a cold, hard stone for his pillow: all that he loved left far behind; an unknown future before him; and wild beasts prowling about in the distance, in hungry search of prey. How heavily on his conscience lay his deep sin! And how the pure, bright moon and the peaceful stars seemed to be reproaching him!

He thought upon his father's God, and his grandfather's trusting obedience, that had gained for him the title of the friend of the great Ruler of the universe. And, as he contrasted with Abraham's faith his own wicked conduct, he felt miserably unworthy to bear his name. Gladly would he have closed his eyes in repose, and thankfully would he have forgotten, for a time at least, his heavy sorrows; but—

"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep,

flies from the guilty conscience; and there was no rest for Jacob.

Oh! Why had he so easily and so weakly yielded to that strong temptation to obtain by fraud the coveted blessing? Why had he not, like Abraham, patiently waited for the fulfilment of the sure promise made on his behalf? Why had he not waited till God Himself had brought it about—that the elder should serve the younger—instead of faithlessly and sinfully hurrying it on himself, and bringing down upon himself and his home all this misery?

There was no book of sweet Psalms to comfort him and assure him of forgiveness; but, as he turned uneasily on his hard bed, and looked up to the quiet heavens, something of their peace stole into his heart. He thought of the great God who dwells above; of the kindness which He had shown to Abraham and Isaac; of the gentle, loving way in which He had drawn near to them; and of the gracious promises which He had made to them.

And he felt sure that such a God must be merciful and compassionate to a poor erring wanderer like himself; and that, enthroned in glory as He was, He would listen to his cry, as He had listened to the outcast Ishmael's before him; and forgive. He would tell Him how sorry he was for what he had done, and ask Him to take away the load that was weighing him down.

So the restless young man arose; and, kneeling upon the bare ground, and raising his beseeching eyes to the star-lit heavens, he poured out to Him who reigns above them the tale of his griefs, and asked Him, in mercy, to forgive the sins that he had committed against Him.

And there, as he knelt, his prayer was heard; the weight of guilt was lifted from his oppressed spirit; and he breathed more freely than he had done since he committed that dark sin. He could not now go back to his old home. Early on the morrow he must go forward on his long journey, and endure all that he had brought upon himself; but his mind was at ease; his heart was at rest. The God of his fathers had heard him, and with His forgiveness and blessing he could be happy.