“Then there passed by Midianites, merchant-men, and they drew and lifted Joseph out of the pit, and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver, and they brought Joseph into Egypt.” Around me now are many money-loving Mohammedans, many cunning and crafty Jews, who, I think, would willingly sell their younger brothers for twenty pieces of silver, or ten pieces either. Yea, I have seen men in this country, and in my own country, too, who would gladly sell their souls for money. As in Joseph’s day, so in ours, “the love of money is the root of all evil.”
AN ANCIENT SHEEP FOLD.
Let us now return to the camp where the merchant-men spent the night. I spoke of the shepherds, of their tents and flocks. The herds, both sheep and goats, of different shepherds have been housed during the night in the same fold. At dawn of day the shepherds awake, and, unlike the thief and robber who climb up over the wall, they enter in by the door. Each shepherd putteth forth his own flock, counting them as they pass slowly out under his rod through the one doorway. As they pass out, the sheep and the goats are separated—the one being turned to the right hand, the other to the left. “Each shepherd calleth his sheep by name and leadeth them out. He goeth before them and his sheep follow him, for they know his voice.” The sheep string one behind another, and as the shepherd, with his sling and leathern pouch filled with stones strapped about his shoulders, with a crook in one hand and a reed pipe in the other, leads his trusting flock out into the “green pastures and beside the still waters,” he makes the welkin ring with his simple, artless melodies. Who could behold a scene like this without thinking of that robust shepherd lad who killed Goliath with his sling, and charmed Saul with his music? Yes, it was among the sheep, here on these purple hills of Judea, that David, the sweet singer of Israel, first learned those Hebrew melodies that have been sung around the world!
I have several times, on beautiful moonlight nights, seen shepherds out in the fields with their flocks under the star-lit sky. It must have been at a time like this that with upturned face David said: “When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers; the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man that thou visitest him?”
How forcibly does this remind one of the time when the angelic host undulated above the plains of Bethlehem crying: “Glory to God in the highest; on earth, peace and good will to men.” This has been a different world ever since that song fell upon the drowsy ear of night.