 CHAPTER XV of ISRAEL'S FAITH This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by April 690, California, United States of America. ISRAEL'S FAITH by Nathan Solomon Joseph Sanitary Laws The laws relating to health are too numerous to mention in detail, and it will be sufficient to treat of them in broad outlines. The main principles of the laws of purification, as laid down in Leviticus and Numbers, appear to be that as infectious diseases are mostly communicated by contact. All cases of infection are to be isolated. That all contact with any center of infection is to be avoided. That when such contact has been unavoidable, there must be, first, segregation, to prevent the spread of infection, and finally purification, before the infected person is readmitted into society. Every corpse was considered a possible center of infection, hence those who touched a corpse or who were under the same roof with a corpse, or who touched a grave, had to purify themselves on the third day. And it was not till the seventh day that they were declared clean. After having again purified themselves, washed their clothes, and bathed themselves in water. In quite recent times medical men have come to the conclusion that infectious diseases can be stamped out only by the most careful system of isolation. Nevertheless it will be seen the sanitary laws of the Pentatech clearly enforce the principle and point to isolation as the first duty incumbent on a patient's suffering from communicable disease, or on a person bearing the germs, or even the possible germs of infection. And it is declared that he who purified not himself defileth the tabernacle of the lord, and that soul shall be cut off from Israel. The great scourge of the east was, and in many places still is, leprosy, and in the thirteenth chapter of Leviticus will be found the most exact and stringent rules for the prevention of the spread of this malady by contagion or infection. Infected clothing was burned. An infected house had to be first emptied, the infected parts of the building removed, and the walls scraped. Then if the infection proved chronic the whole house had to be raised to the ground, and the materials removed to an unclean place, never to be used again. The priest acted as physician. It was he who had to declare the patient, the garment, or the house clean or unclean, before the readmission of the leper into society. Certain sacrificial rites had to be performed, but, above all, certain abulations had to be made by the patient, and his hair had to be shaved off. In these times, when cleanliness is known to be an essential condition of health, it will not be a subject of surprise to find the washing of the clothes and the bathing of the flesh with water ordained as material acts of purification. If these simple remedies alone had been prescribed for the prevention of infection, they would doubtless have been disregarded and neglected, for there is a tendency of the uneducated mind to respect a remedy of a complex, and to disregard one of a simple kind. Just as we find the naman doubted the efficacy of the seven simple ablutions in the Jordan, prescribed by Elisha as a cure for his leprosy, because the cure was not accompanied by any incantation or ceremonial, but probably this was not the only reason why the ablutions were accompanied by priestly rites. It must be remembered that many diseases take their origin in intemperance, excess, and other infractions of the moral law. So it was a salutary act to bring the influences of religion to bear upon the patient, not only with the object of impressing upon him the need of an amended life, but of reminding him that, though God delegates his healing powers to man, the great physician is God himself, to whom we owe life and health and every blessing. The law for the disposal of refuse, by burial, in the earth is truly a remarkable one. The modern system which permits such matter to pollute our rivers is now acknowledged to be a gigantic blunder, and the best authorities are now of opinion that, though storm waters should be led into the rivers, sewage should be led into the earth, to enrich the soil, and reproduce the food once it takes its origin. We have already referred to the law which declared unclean all who touched a corpse, or a grave, or who happened to be under the same roof with a corpse, which required their purification before they could be readmitted into society. But the law was much more stringent as regards the priests. These were not permitted to come near a corpse under any condition, except on the death of a near relative, namely a parent, wife, child, brother, or unmarried sister. And even in these exceptional circumstances they had to be purified, and to remain apart for seven days. The sanitary importance of this rule must be clear, seeing that in the east the diseases most prevalent are contagious, that a corpse which in warm climates decomposes rapidly is a highly probable source of infection, and that the priests, being also the physicians, if allowed to touch the dead, might communicate mortal disease from the dead to the living. Our people have always regarded their dead with the greatest veneration. The careful watching of the corpse from the moment of death till the funeral hour, the reverent evolution of the dead, the following of the remains to the grave, with all marks of respect, regardless of the rank or station of the deceased, and the rule which assigns to each corpse, even to that of a pauper, a separate grave as an everlasting possession. All these customs indicating ineffectual tenderness for the dead seem strangely at variance with those mosaic laws which treat the human corpse as a thing defiling him that touches it. What, then, can be the object of these laws apart from their sanitary purpose? A glance at the history of certain ancient nations, and even at the customs of some religions of our own day, will furnish us with a reply. In ancient Egypt, the country where the Israelites had so long dwelt, the treatment of the dead was the great absorbing thought of the living. To build a grand tomb for himself was the first thought of every Egyptian. The greatest pains were taken to preserve the bodies of the dead. The more perishable parts were removed, and the body embalmed, wrapped tightly in bands of linen to prevent the access of air, and the preservation of the body from decay was considered essential to the happiness of the departed soul. The chief books in the Egyptian literature were those relating to the funeral ritual. Before the tombs of the Egyptians, altars were erected, and on these altars their relatives offered sacrifices. In times of difficulty or danger they would consult the dead and pray for their intervention or for their advice. The privilege of burial was not allowed to all. Some were refused burial, and had to be kept forever by their families, standing upright in closed coffins against a wall inside their houses. A lasting disgrace to their relatives. Poor people who died in debt were refused burial, and at one time a creditor could make his debtor give, as security, the mummy of his father. The city of the dead was under the control of the priests of Egypt, who had high privileges, and possessed one-third of the land. Their influence over the people was enormous, chiefly derived from their power either to award honors or to offer indignities to the dead. Thus we see the evil resulting from the gigantic corpse traffic, which became at last the aim and end of religion in Egypt. No wonder that Jacob, fearful that his body might become an object of worship for future generations, exclaimed as a last request to his son, bury me not, I pray thee, in Egypt. Or that Joseph, with like apprehension, made the children of Israel swear that they would carry his remains from Egypt to Canaan. In our own days there are superstitions as bad, and perhaps more mischievous, in the churches of Catholic countries will be found bones of so-called saints who lived centuries ago, reverently preserved as relics, and kept his objects of idolatry. Many of these are alleged by the priests to be capable of working miraculous cures even now. And as the priests hold aloft these human relics, perhaps a fleshless skull, or perhaps a shrunken human hand, or perhaps only a single bone, with great pomp and ceremony, the assembled multitude bend the knee, and accord to these remains a worship which should belong to the Supreme God alone. No wonder then that God should bid his people regard human remains and the graves of the dead as unclean. No wonder that he should forbid his priests even to go near a dead body. If the priests might not go near a corpse, how much less might they consult the dead, or offer a spurious worship at their tombs, or present sacrifices at their graves, or work pretended miracles with the fragment of a corpse. One cannot but admire with rapt wonder the divine foresight whereby all graves were declared unholy and unclean, and whereby when our great legislator Moses died, his burial was so arranged that no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day. Not upon the body, but on the spirit of the departed are we to bestow our thoughts, on their example and their influence, on their worth and on their work. Let us think of them as spirits rejoicing in the presence of their maker, working his will in the better world, as they worked his will in this. The laws relating to food may be all classed under the head of sanitary laws, for they have been ordained in the interests of health, moral, and physical. When God blessed Noah and his sons after the flood, he delivered into their hand the whole animal world, and told them every moving thing that livid shall be meet for you, even as the green herb have I given you all things, but flesh with a life thereof, which is the blood thereof shall ye not eat. In those early days there were no dietary restrictions but these two. A living animal might not be mutilated to afford food, and the blood of an animal might not be eaten. These laws were repeated by Moses, but with far greater detail and circumstance. We read in Leviticus, moreover ye shall eat no manner of blood, whether it be a fowl or of beast, in any of your dwellings. Whatsoever soul it be that eateth any manner of blood, even that soul shall be cut off from his people. With even greater stringency is the law repeated later. Whatsoever man there be of the house of Israel, or of the strangers that so jorn among you, that eateth any manner of blood, I will even set my face against that soul, that eateth blood, and will cut him off from among his people, for the life of the flesh is in the blood. And I have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your souls, for it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul. Therefore I said unto the children of Israel, No soul of you shall eat blood, neither shall any stranger that so jorneth among you eat blood. In Deuteronomy the same injunction is repeated. Only ye shall not eat the blood. Ye shall't pour it upon the earth as water. And further in the same chapter we are told. Only be sure that thou eat not the blood, for the blood is the life, and thou mayest not eat the life with the flesh. Thou shalt not eat it. Thou shalt pour it on the earth as water. Thou shalt not eat it, that it may go well with thee, and with thy children after thee. What can be the object of this prohibition, so frequently repeated? The Bible gives us one reason that the blood is used upon the altar as an atonement sacrifice, but this cannot be the chief reason. The real reason must remain a mystery, until the great problem of life is solved. We know nothing of the process is of vital action, but we know that the blood is the vehicle of life to the animal frame, the circulating medium, maintaining vitality in every organ of the body, and feeding the brain, the fountain of thought and action. We know from the influence of certain narcotics that what passes into the blood after digestion affects the brain, sometimes acting on the intellectual, and sometimes on the moral qualities of man, sometimes weakening and sometimes stimulating those powers. How the brain is acted upon, we know not, but we know enough to feel sure that what we eat and drink does affect the mental and spiritual part of man. What then is more probable than that if the blood of a brute animal enters our frames? Some of the qualities of that animal may become communicated to us through its blood, and that part of the nature of the animal may thus enter our nature and debase and brutalize us? Experience leads a strong probability to this view, and if the view be correct, the precepts so strongly prohibiting blood are easily understood. Our traditional mode of slaughtering cattle by cutting the throat was evidently ordained for the purpose of draining from the body of the animal the greatest possible quantity of blood, and the custom adopted in all Jewish households of steeping meat in water for half an hour and keeping it afterward, strewn with salt for an hour before cooking it, has doubtless for its object the extraction of any blood still remaining. When we further examine the laws prohibiting the use of certain animals for food, the leading principle of those laws seems to be that all animals, which themselves feed on blood, are pronounced unclean and are prohibited. No quadruped might be eaten except such, as had cloven feet it also chewed the cud. Such animals, as had only one of these characteristics, such as the camel, the hare, and the swine, were regarded as unclean. Their carcasses might not even be touched, much less they be used for food. The law limiting the eatable animals to the cloven footed only excluded the whole range of carnivora, or animals that eat flesh. Flesh-eating animals are, of necessity, blood-eating animals, so it is not difficult to see why they are prohibited. No fish might be eaten except such as had fins and scales. Twenty species of birds are also enumerated as unclean, and forbidden as food. All worms and creeping things, and all insects, with the few exceptions enumerated, are also prohibited. And it is quite possible, although not absolutely capable of proof that nearly all those prohibited animals are, in some degree, carnivorous and consequently blood-eating. It would be impossible, with our present limited knowledge, to assign a special sanitary reason for the prohibition of each of these animals as food. We know but little of the habits of most animals, and we know absolutely nothing of their inner life. But inasmuch as all the prohibited animals are described as unclean, there must doubtless be something in their structure and habits rendering them unwholesome as objects of human food. The filthy habits of the swine and the shocking diseases to which it is liable, and which it engenders in those who feed on it, are very well known, and in modern times it has been thoroughly recognized by medical men that swine's flesh is unwholesome food, even if the animal itself may have been healthy when slain. Swine will eat any garbage however decomposed, and they have even been known to devour their own young. The forbidden birds include several which are known to live on carrion of the filthiest kind and to delight in blood. The law wisely describes them as abominations, not even to be touched, when dead much less eaten. Certain kinds of fat specified by tradition and including the particular fat used for sacrifice were forbidden to be eaten, as was also the flesh of any animal that was accidentally wounded or that died of disease. This last precept has given rise to the excellent traditional practice among the Jewish people, that all animals slain for food must be examined by skilled persons, with the object of ascertaining whether the animal was free from disease. In case of disease being discovered, the animal is pronounced unfit for food, terefa. The law also forbids us to see the kid in its mother's milk. The word getty, translated kid, here means the young of any mammal. The command seems at first a strange one, and its meaning has been questioned by many learned men. The great Mamona days, himself a physician of eminence, considers the prohibition to be solely a sanitary one, as he regards the mixture of flesh and milk to indigestible a food. But the more probable reason is that there is something cruel and repugnant to natural sentiment in boiling a young animal in the milk that was destined for its nourishment. And there is an analogy between this precept and that which forbade the killing of any animal and its progeny on the same day. It is certain that the Jews have always abstained from such an unnatural mixture of food. Apart from sanitary considerations, there is the moral influence which such laws exercise, by reason of the restraints which they place on our appetites. That the Jews are distinguished for temperance is universally acknowledged, as convivial in their habits as any of their fellow citizens, our people are yet moderate in their enjoyments, and drunkenness finds no place among the vices of the Jews. For this immunity from intemperance and from many of those diseases which affect other races, we are indebted to the dietary laws which, while they permit us to enjoy in moderation the good things of life, place a curb on our appetites, so as to foster in us the quality of self-restraint. Chapter 10 of Israel's Faith This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Laurie Wilson. Israel's Faith by Nathan Solomon Joseph Fasts and Feasts Every nation that has a history has certain anniversaries which are marked as red-letter days in its calendar. But most nations willingly or willfully forget their past misfortunes. Their self-love and vanity prompting them to hold in remembrance only their glories. With us it is different. Not that our self-love and vanity are less than our neighbors, but our history is different. For since we lost the land of our inheritance, our history has been with few comparatively short exceptions, one long tale of persecution and humiliation. But now, thanks to God, we Jews in this great country and in most parts of the civilized world live in peace and liberty, our lives and properties secure, and we begin to regard our past sad history almost as a frightful nightmare, scarcely a series of real facts. It has been the custom of our people as each anniversary came round to praise God for good and evil alike, to celebrate our past glories with heartfelt gratitude, and to call to mind our past sufferings with lamentations, but also with thanksgiving. For in darkness or in light, in sorrow or in joy, the Jew still felt himself surviving heir to a precious heritage, and confident in the future of his race, was grateful to transmit to unborn generations that heritage in all its purity. For these sad anniversaries are not only historical, but biblical. They are mentioned as fast in the book of Zachariah, the seventh day date of Tammuz, the ninth day of Ab, the third day of Tishri, and the tenth day of Tebeth. The fast of Tammuz commemorates the taking of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, the feast of Ab, the saddest anniversary of all, the destruction of the first temple by Nebuchadnezzar, and the destruction of the second temple by Titus, the Roman general. The fast of Gedaliah, on the third day of Tishri, is the anniversary of the murder of Gedaliah, the chief of the remnant of our people, who clung to Judea after the destruction of the first temple. From that date the independence of the Jews ceased, until the restoration in the days of Cyrus. The fast of Tebeth commemorates the commencement of the Siege of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar. Reading these dry details which seem a mere catalog of misfortunes, it is difficult to realize their full import. But the narrative of the destruction of the first temple, as detailed in the last chapter of the Second Book of Kings, and in the last chapter of the Second Book of Chronicles, and the history of the Siege of Jerusalem by Titus, as described by Josephus, set forth vividly the horrors attending these national calamities, when the city was consumed with famine, so that there was no bread for the people of the land, when the besiegers ruthlessly slew every one in the fated city, and had no compassion upon young man or maiden, old man or him that stooped for age. Never in the world's history has such a Siege taken place as that which finally overthrew the sacred city. Never has a city been so completely destroyed as was Jerusalem, destroyed so that scarcely a vestige of its ancient glory now remains, save a few huge pieces of masonry, the foundations of its outer walls, and some underground vaults, cisterns, and aqueducts beneath or near the site of the sacred temple enclosure. Perhaps human nature is so constituted that we may find it hard to lament the loss of what we personally never possessed, and thus many thoughtless people may smile when they are told to mourn for the loss of Jerusalem. But when we read in the Bible and in works of history what Jerusalem was, and call to mind that the temple was THE place on all the earth chosen by God as His Holy House, the religious center of the chosen people, and that instead of that glorious heritage we have nothing left to us but the written word, no land of our own, no temple of our own, no house of God where the Jew can worship the one and only God. Then, perhaps if we are fervent Jews, we may realize what we have lost. Still our past history is not all gloom. Our history is indeed a history of persecutions, but it is also a history full of providential escapes. Two of these marvelous escapes from danger which might have utterly exterminated us, but for the protecting hand of providence we celebrate by festivals of joy and gladness, the Feast of Purim and the Feast of Hanukkah. Who can read the Book of Esther without discerning in the wonderful chain of events therein related, the guiding hand of an all-directing providence? When therefore we celebrate the Feast of Purim as our forefathers did in Shushan, with light and gladness and joy and honor, we must keep for most in our minds the recognition of God's government of the world. And when we read in the Book of Esther how a despised Jew and Jewess became by rare acts of courage and self-devotion the saviors of their nation and placed on record an imperishable memorial of their marvelous escape, and how finally the Jew Mordecai raised to the post of First Minister to the King of 127 provinces, yet remains steadfast to his faith and race. We must indeed acknowledge that it was the hand of the Lord of Hosts that had wrought these things. The events that gave rise to Hanukkah, the Feast of Dedication, are described in detail in the Books of the Maccabees in the Apocrypha. About the facts contained in the Books of the Maccabees there can be no doubt as they receive ample confirmation from other historical sources. About two centuries before the Romans destroyed the Second Temple, Judea was ravaged by the army of Antiochus Epiphanes, King of Syria, who penetrated to Jerusalem and even took possession of the sanctuary. Resistance seemed useless. The priests fled from the Temple and the Syrians there set up their idolatrous worship with all its abominations. They then tried to convert the Jews to their own degrading religion. The ordinances of Judaism were proscribed and worship of God was forbidden, and all were ordered upon pain of death to bow down before the idols of the Syrians. Thousands of Jews died the death of martyrs because they persisted in clinging to their own religion. Many weakened by privations and torture became or pretended to become converts to heathenism, and many fled to distant parts of Judea taking refuge in the mountain caverns. All seemed hopeless, and it appeared as if Jews and Judaism were about to vanish forever from the face of the earth, when suddenly there arose a family of priests who took upon themselves the apparently impossible task of resisting the idolatrous invaders. These heroes consisting of an old man named Matathias, and his five sons were the Maccabees or Hasimonians, and they commenced their work of salvation for Israel by bidding defiance to the Syrians when they invaded Modin, their village home. For Modin the invaders had set up altars for the worship of their idols, and these the Maccabees, jealous for the true God, indignantly swept away. The Syrians accustomed everywhere to receive submission, were amazed at this boldness, and tried to bribe Matathias and his sons by promises of honors and riches to yield to the king's commands and to embrace the idolatrous religion. But the Maccabees indignantly refused, and rallying around them a handful of villagers whom they had inspired with patriotism and religious fervor like their own, they engaged in battle with the hosts of Syria, and though largely outnumbered, conquered. No sooner had they gained their first victory than the Maccabees re-established the worship of the true God, and then proceeded to organize a small army with which to liberate their country. But the old priest Matathias did not live to see the end of the conflict. He died leaving his sons to continue the task he had commenced, and inciting them by his last words to the work of regenerating and reviving the nation and the religion he loved so well. The sons fought like lions, everywhere the little handful of Jewish patriots conquered. Legion after legion of the Syrians, led by the most renowned generals of King Antiochus, fell in battle, struck down by the small band of Maccabees soldiers. Nothing could withstand the prowess of these Jewish heroes. And after a succession of victories, unbroken by a single reverse, they marched to Jerusalem, determined to crown their glories by rescuing the holy city from the pagan hands that had desecrated the sanctuary. Here again they were victorious, for they drove out the Syrians from Jerusalem once more regained possession of the sacred temple, and the remnants of the hosts of Antiochus gradually retired from Palestine. Then the soldiers' work over, the priest work, the purification of the desecrated temple, began. Every vestige of the adulterous worship was removed. New altars were built, new holy vessels were set up, the lights on the sacred candlestick were once more kindled, and the ancient worship of the Most High was re-established. Then was celebrated the first feast of dedication, with great rejoicing. It lasted eight days, and it was ordained that for ever after, the Jews should celebrate as a festival this wonderful escape and the religious revival that followed it. How it is celebrated is well known. For eight nights we illumine our homes with festive lights, commencing with one and adding one daily till eight lights are reached. When these lights are kindled, joyful hymns of thanksgiving are sung to celebrate the salvation of Israel by the Maccabees. The lesson taught by Hanukkah is similar to that taught by Purim, the recognition of the hand of God in human history and human destiny. One can well imagine the worldly wise of the Maccabee are laughing at the temerity of Judas and his brothers, when they with their handful of villagers, ill-clad, unpracticed in the arts of war, and efficient in the implements of battle, went to fight the hosts of Syrian soldiers. Just as Goliath laughed at the stripling David, and just as in our own time the worldly wise of many nations predicted failure to the small band of Italian patriots who undertook the liberation of their country. And thus this wonderful episode of our deliverance from the Syrian yoke shows us how Providence selects as instruments not always the powerful and strong, but sometimes even the weakest, humblest, and poorest to work his will, to regenerate an expiring nation, to revive the fast dying embers of a glorious religion, and to restore its influence. He selects the poor, weak old priests and his five sons, inhabitants of an obscure village of Palestine. These were to be the saviours of their people. These were to inspire their followers with the courage of lions to meet and conquer an enemy many times stronger than they. These were to rekindle the fire of religious zeal among their fellow Jews. These were to drive out the idolater and to restore the true religion, not by might nor by power, but by my spirit, saith the Lord of hosts. End of chapter 10. Part 2 chapter 11 of Israel's Faith, a series of lessons for the Jewish youth by Nathan Solomon Joseph. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The future life. To everyone, even to those on the brink of the grave, life has many interests, and the present moment is of paramount importance. When God made man of the dust of the earth, he meant him to have earthly interests so that he might fulfill his mission as part of the work of creation. If all men were to pass their lives like monks, spending all their time in penance, prayer, and contemplation, neglectful of their duties as members of the human family, there would soon be an end to the human race. Happily for man, God has so constituted the human mind that the prevailing thought of life is life itself, life here on earth with its needs, its duties, and its enjoyments. But deeply implanted as is the love of life in every healthy human heart, it is not more deeply implanted than the hope and expectation of a future state. It is thought that crops up very frequently and persistently in every thinking mind, and no religious person should suffer the days to depart without bestowing more than a passing thought on the future of his soul. What does religion tell us about the immortality of the soul? The Pentauk tells us enough to show that Moses must have been well versed in the doctrine, and that the silence of the early books of the Pentauk upon the topic was due only to the fact that the doctrine was thoroughly established. Indeed, if one reads any work treating of ancient Egypt, it is clear that at the time of the Exodus, and even long before, the doctrine of a future state was known to the Egyptians and played no small part in the inner and domestic life of that nation. It is therefore absolutely impossible that Moses, who was trained at the court of Pharaoh, could have been, as some have maintained, ignorant of the idea of the immortality of the soul. But it may be argued why did not God, through his servant Moses, clearly and distinctly propound the important doctrine of immortality, promising undying happiness in a future existence as a reward of piety, and giving indications of the nature of those spiritual rewards, instead of promising long life and wealth, and all worldly blessings as the recompense of virtue. Truly a difficult question, but we may probably find a solution to the problem by imagining a converse state of things. Suppose that the Bible told us, without the slightest ambiguity, that there was an afterlife, that the soul was an immortal part of man, which, released from its earthly bounds, would enjoy happiness, or be doomed to misery in accordance with its desserts. What would be the result? In the first place, not a single disinterested action would be left to be performed, even by the best of men. Every prudent man would calculate the effect of each good deed he performed, or of each temptation he resisted, and would, as it were, keep a debit and credit account with his Creator. Even as it is, there is not too much disinterest in the world. Intertwined with patriotism, we see ambition. Intermixed with honesty, we find policy, the fear of the law. Interwoven with religion, we often find submission to fashion. The sterling good deed, the act of duty, which is contrary to interest, to sentiment, to impulse, to fashion, and to inclination. This is the act which deserves eternal reward. But what act would be disinterested, if the promise of heavenly reward were unmistakably clear and distinct? The cool calculating man would be the best man, but he would not be a good man in the sense in which we now understand the term. He would be commercially good. His good deeds would simply be good investments, investments of which the Prophet, though deferred, was certain. Not only certain, but one attained eternal. But there would be no merit in this kind of goodness. The object for which it would seem, we were placed upon the earth, would be annulled. This world would be no test, no place of trial to ascertain our worth. It might be a test of our sordid prudence, not of our moral worth. The aim and object of our existence in this world would be frustrated. Next, let us ask what end would have been served by a direct promise of immortality. It would not have sufficed to have merely given the promise of a state of being which the mind cannot fully grasp. The mere promise of eternal happiness would have been, to the majority, the promise of a phrase, a mere vision, not a tangible, comprehensible reward. We could not appreciate a promise of pleasures, which belong wholly and solely to a spiritual state of existence. But we can understand the pleasures of earth, because they are pleasures experienced by the agency of the senses. Everyone can appreciate such pleasures, and therefore it is that we find in the Bible material blessings held out as the recompense of well-doing. Our ancestors just delivered from the slavery of Egypt were not a people with strong spiritual cravings. The Bible represents them, while yet living amid miracles, as lamenting the flesh pots of Egypt, looking back with fine regret to the time when they did eat bread to the full, calling to mind with greedy thoughts the fish which we did eat in Egypt freely, the cucumbers, and the melons, and the leeks, and the onions, and the garlic. Men such as these would not have been attracted by promises of a spiritual happiness long deferred. A different incentive had to be offered. They were therefore promise-rich harvests and overflowing granaries, length of days in the blessing of children. But though the Pentioch contains unmistakable hints as to the immortality of the soul, the later scriptures contain much more than hints, sufficiently showing that the doctrine was not first learned in the Babylonian exile, but that it was accepted, if not by the masses, at least by cultivated minds. King David and many of his psalms used his expressions which show that to him the soul's immortality was no unfamiliar doctrine. In that beautiful psalm which is read in houses of mourning, he says, My heart is glad, and my glory rejoices. My flesh also shall rest in hope, for thou wilt not leave my soul in the grave, neither wilt thou suffer thine holy one to see corruption. Thou wilt show me the path of life, in thy presence is fullness of joy. At thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. Began in the seventeenth psalm, called the prayer of David, after speaking with disdain of the prosperity of men of the world which have their portion in this life, he closes with the words, As for me, I will behold thy face by righteousness. I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness. In the forty-ninth psalm, which contains so powerful a homily on the vanity of wealth and fortune, the psalmist thus declares his belief in a future state. But God shall redeem my soul from the power of the grave, for he shall receive me. The last chapter of the book of Ecclesiastes contains the most pointed reference to the doctrine of the soul's immortality, in the well-known words, then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it. With such expressions as these in holy writ, who can assert that the doctrine of immortality was unknown to the ancient Hebrews, and that the Jews at quite a late period of their history derive their knowledge of that doctrine from heathen and Christian sources? The doctrine must have been not only known to our people in primeval times, but must have been so far recognized as a self-evident fact, and so far interwoven in their natural belief as to have required no enforcement by the authority of divine revelation. And who can talk of annihilation of the soul, especially in these days when philosophers declare even matter to be indestructible, enforced by the conservation of energy, to be eternal in its effects? Shall physical force be everlasting in the soul which by the power of will gives life to force itself lack immortality? It cannot be. The rabbis tell us that when the supreme being asked by Moses to show him his glory caused all his goodness to pass before him, he opened to his astonished gaze the treasure houses of heaven, pointing out to him one after the other the rewards in store for the righteous. But that when at length he exposed to view one treasure house larger than all the rest piled up with precious things beyond number, in Moses and rapt astonishment exclaim, Lord, what is this great storehouse? God answered him, this is the storehouse of happiness for those who have no merit of their own. Such is the Jewish view of God's mercy to the undeserving, and surely it is no extravagant idea when we call to mind man's career on earth. He enters the world helpless and naked, loving hands receive him, tend him, clothe him and feed him, loving hearts educate him, and however great his struggle of life there is evident at every step and stage of a providence that guides him unworthy though he be. Unworthy indeed, for since none are free from sin if God were a vindictive being as some religions would represent him, even the best of us would be struck dead long before we attained manhood. But he has no vindictiveness. He has declared that his ways are not as our ways, that is, the heavens are higher than the earth, his ways are higher than our ways, and his thoughts are higher than our thoughts. And he has declared himself merciful and gracious, long-suffering and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin. Surely he who provided gentle hands and hearts to receive us on entering this world will provide a loving welcome for the soul, released from its earthly habitation, whether it be the soul of the sinner, trembling for its future or the soul of the pious, yearning for that perfection which the earth forbade. And so when the time will come, as come it must to all, when death approaches, though the parting from loved ones may be with tears, and the severance of earthly ties may be with lamentations, yet let there be no fear in the soul as it enters the presence of its maker, for merited or not the loving mercy of God is the sure passport of every soul to heaven in happiness. And yet the good will have the reward of their goodness, and yet the wicked will be requited for their wickedness, for God will by no means wholly clear the guilty. Man cannot be saved from the natural consequences of his sin. Of the reward in a future state we know nothing here, and still we may, perhaps, gain some slight foretaste of its nature, from the sense of spiritual delight we experience after the performance of a truly good, unselfish act, and robbing heavy sacrifice. Of the punishment in a future state we can know nothing here, and still we may, perhaps, have some slight foreshadowing of its nature, from the sense of remorse which follows the commission of a sin. Just as the grown man looks back on the foibles of his childhood and youth with contempt, and, perhaps, discussed, so may we well imagine the soul released from its earthly habitation, burdened with remorse at its sin, until God shall have purified it from its earthly stains. And as the shares and proportions of reward meet it out to each, though there will be heaven for all, immortality for all, happiness for all, through the boundless mercy of God, the happiness will, perhaps, be greater or less, not according to the measure in which it is bestowed, but according to the measure in which it is deserved. For it is the unselfish, disinterested work that is truly satisfying to God, the labor done without hope of profit, fame or reward, the work wrought for the glory of God and the good of man.