FATHER.

It must, my boy

The victim will require it. There; more stones.
Be quick, my son. What we now do

We must do quickly. That will do, my Isaac,
The altar will now hold thee.

SON.

Me, my father!

FATHER.

Yes, thee, my son, for so God has commanded;
And when the Lord commands we must obey.
Obedience is a high and holy duty

We owe to God.

SON.

Ah me, my Father!

Must I, then, be the lamb for sacrifice?

FATHER.

Thou must, my son, for so the Lord hath spoken.
Thy father loves thee, Isaac, and would not,
No, not for all the treasures of proud Egypt,
Give up his son,
but at the Lord's command.

SON.

But then, my father, you have often told me
That God would give your son a numerous seed,
And all this land as an inheritance.

That promise will be broken if you now

Should offer me in sacrifice.

FATHER.

God, my son,

Can raise up from these stones children to Abraham Or, if it please him, he can raise up thee

After thou hast bowed down in sacrifice,

And so fulfil the promise he has spoken.

Nor think, my son, if thou art made an offering,

That God dishonours thee, or that thy father
Does not yet love thee as he loves his life.
For this strange deed I am about to do
Will be a picture of a stranger deed
Which, in a distant age, will here be done,
When God will give up his own Son to be
A suffering victim. If God spares him not-
The brightness of his glory, and his image,
His only and his well-beloved Son-

Him whom he loved before the world began,
And ever will love-shall I refuse

To give thee up to him, much though I love thee.
Think it an honour God now puts upon thee,

In making thee a type of his own Son,
Who one day here will bow his head in death.

SON.

Oh! my dear father, I have not thy faith.
Would that I had; and yet I must believe thee.

FATHER.

Not for the wealth of worlds would I deceive thee.
I know whom I believe; and that his word
Is firmer than these mountains round about us.
But to please Him thou must have confidence
In his high word of promise. And thy faith
Must make thee now a willing sacrifice,
Or the great figure will be incomplete.

For He, of whom thou now art made the type,

Will yield himself as unresistingly

As the young lamb when led forth to the slaughter.

SON.

But death to one so young is awful, father.

And then, my mother! How will father meet her Without his son?

FATHER.

Fear not, my Isaac.

Death is the passage to a life immortal

For all who fear the Lord. There thou wilt join
Those who are gone before-Abel and Seth
Wait now to welcome thee. I and thy mother soon
Shall join thee there again to part no more.
Fear not, my son; the struggle will be short,
And thou art safe for ever!

SON.

Oh my God!

FATHER.

God will be with thee and receive thy spirit.
He is now round about us. Never far

From every one of us. For in him we live,

And move, and have our being. Nearest always
When those he loves resign their souls in death.

SON.

Oh God, my God, thy holy will be done!

FATHER.

Amen! in earth as it is done in heaven!

And now, my Isaac,

(laying him bound on the altar upon the wood, and stretching forth his hand to take the knife)

Take thee!

The Lord who gave thee

But hark! a voice. It is the angel of the Lord calling Abraham, Abraham: and he said, Here am I. And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou anything unto him for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me. A rain caught in a thicket by his horns was now offered in the stead of his son.

And the angel of the LORD called unto Abraham out of heaven the second time, and said, By myself have I sworn, saith the LORD, for because thou hast done this thing, and

hast not withheld thy son, thine only son; That in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea shore; and thy seed shall possess the gate of his enemies; And in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed; because thou hast obeyed my voice.

Thus ended this strange eventful story. We may imagine, but we cannot describe the holy joy of the father as he again received as from the dead, in a figure, his beloved son. All the way of that long journey his faith had held the mastery, and even when the dreadful hour arrived; so that natural affection, though often struggling, was kept down; now, however, like a restrained stream which had found a vent, it flowed forth. Clasping Isaac to his bosom, the venerable patriarch wept over him tears of joy. Now they could return to Beer-sheba, to gladden the eyes of the expecting and anxious mother.

But ere they descended from that memorable mount, Abraham gave it the name-commemorative, not so much of what he had done, as of what the Lord would do in that place-Jehovah-jireh; that is, the Lord will provide. And God did provide, 2000 years after, in that very spot, a LAMB for sacrifice, of nobler name and richer blood than was ever offered on patriarchal or priestly altars.

Thus did Abraham, by his unwavering faith, earn for him. self the distinguished title of Father of the Faithful, among men. A title of distinction higher than even this, and higher far than ever mortal bore, God gave him, when he called him, ABRAHAM MY FRIEND.

THE ANGEL'S MISSION.

AN angel stood on one of the highest eminences of heaven, when, lo! a voice proclaimed, "Go forth, my servant, down among the dwellers of yonder twinkling sphere, and notice the tribute they offer to the King of Heaven." The angel spread his snowy pinions, and directed his flight to where, on the remotest verge of creation, a dim star faintly glimmered. He passed the shining orbs that roll in dazzling splendour around the throne of God. Beings of majestic form and immortal grace peopled each mighty sphere. Each voice was full of melody, and every eye kindled with the high consciousness of undying bliss. On he sped, till on an orb of shadowy dimness he paused to fold his wings. Ere he entered on the task assigned him, he glanced with eagleken over the scene before hitn. How unlike the glorious scenes of his native abode! He scanned the earth. Vegetation lay blackened and withered, for the frost had fallen upon its beauty. The forest trees had faded from their vernal loveliness, and their discoloured foliage was shed upon the ground, or quivered in the autumn blast. The expanse of ocean next attracted his attention. It lay outstretched in placid loveliness. But suddenly the tempest breathed upon it in its fierceness, and its mountain billows heaved in wild commotion, till the sky and main mingled in the fearful strife. The sky, before so calm, where the stars reposed in glory, that too changed before him, and dark clouds veiled its beauty, while the lightning-flash and thunder-peal kindled and shook the heavens. The strife