The Sea Divided

HOW wonderful are God’s ways! Israel was under His care and guidance, and none could pluck them out of His hand. Never was the Cloud to be removed from them till the land of promise was reached. But Israel had to learn lessons concerning both Jehovah and themselves. The moment we are sheltered by the blood of Jesus we are really safe forever—no one shall ever pluck us out of the hand of Jesus, or of the Father. But there are very many solemn and searching lessons which we have to learn in our souls, and perhaps, as Israel did, we may begin to doubt whether after all God will guide us safe home!
The Lord God bade Israel to turn and encamp by the sea, before Pi-hahiroth, between Migdol and the sea. How strange to their unaccustomed eyes must have been the deep blue waters! How the little children must have looked upon the rippling waves and the sparkling foam with wonder and delight!
But Israel had a searching lesson to learn in the sea, and little did they dream what that lesson would be when they pitched their tents over against Baal-zephon.
As far as we can understand, the encampment was upon a narrow plain, having mountains on either side, and open at the rear to the country whence they came; before them was the wilderness, whither they would go, but between it and them the sea. The people had turned from the direct path towards Canaan by Jehovah’s orders, and they encamped, with the sea in front of them, and with the mountains hemming them in.
Pharaoh heard this, and imagined that they had lost their way and were entangled in the wilderness, and shut up to his power. He and his repented of the loss of so many thousands of slaves, and, despite his former fears and wounds of heart, Pharaoh gathered his six hundred chosen chariots and the numerous chariots of Egypt together, the number of which is not given, and swept down upon the helpless mass of Israel. The chariots of Egypt were renowned in war. The little picture on the next page indicates the way in which the chosen warriors in them, with their furious steeds, wished to plow through the untrained host of Israel. Then Israel lifted up their eyes and trembled as the dust of Pharaoh’s host drew nigh. They cried out unto the Lord, though not in faith, for they knew not His strength and His salvation. He was leading them on, but they feared that the enemy would reach them from their rear. “It had been better for us to serve the Egyptians than that we should die in the wilderness!” groaned they.
The cruelty of the oppressor was awfully familiar to them: the very pictures upon the temples told how captives were treated, and what would be their lot, should the bloodthirsty enemy overtake and satisfy his vengeful lust upon them! The way in which those who were spared in the day of battle were carried away captive, tied and tortured, is shown in the illustration below, for, though educated and instructed, the Egyptians were abominably cruel.
As Israel cried aloud in their extremity the Lord God showed to them, and through them to us, what His salvation is. “Speak unto the children of Israel, that they go forward,” was the Lord’s word, and the Cloud of God’s presence which went before removed and went to the unguarded rear of Israel, and with the angel of God stood behind them, so hindering the enemy from approaching them all that night.
It was the custom amongst ancient nations to have huge torches raised upon poles, the blaze of which was apparent by night—the smoke by day; and there seems reason for believing that as far back as the time of the fiery pillar protecting Israel must have had a peculiar import to them, and also to the Egyptians.
The Lord caused a mighty east wind to cleave a pathway through the broad, deep sea, and He made it dry land for Israel; its waters, as it were, ice-bound, became a wall unto them on their right hand and on their left. The sea walled them in on either side, and Jehovah was their rear guard.
Such was their path through the way God made. Never before had there been a wonder like it; and as we contemplate this marvelous way, we are constrained to say, How blessed to know the shining light of God’s presence, illuminating His own great salvation, and the wonders of the death and resurrection of His Son for us, when Satan seeks to harm us. The Lord Jesus is our way, He has passed through death, and by His exodus a flame of fire was carried by the Egyptians in the van of their army. If such were the case, the magnificent glory of the resurrection the path to liberty is made for God’s people. The power of the Lord’s resurrection relieves us from our fear of the enemy. The Lord’s death and resurrection have completely cut off the enemy from pursuit, and faith sees behind us only the shining light of the pillar of Cloud.
On the other side of that pillar all was darkness. On that awful night, the voice of God’s thunder shook the heavens, and His lightning lightened the world, and the earth quaked. (See Psa. 77)
“Thy way is in the sea, and Thy path in the great waters, and Thy footsteps are not known. Thou leddest Thy people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.” Have you then been led by God? Are you one of His sheep, safe and saved forever; never to be plucked from His hand by the enemy? We are all on one side or other of the cloud, on the bright side, or on the dark side; on Israel’s side, or on the Egyptian’s side.
When the morning watch came, and the night was nearly over, the Lord looked through the dark side of the cloud upon the chariots of Egypt. They had driven on after His flock. Did they know whither they were going in the darkness? Did Pharaoh know that in his pursuit he was driving on into the midst of the sea? Surely he knew, when it was too late, that death was his doom, and that there was no escape! It was vain to turn and flee. The Lord took off their chariot wheels. As the morning was breaking, and the light of day was beginning to shine, the great walls of water were visible plainly enough to Pharaoh and his hosts. Israel had seen those crystal walls during the night, shining in the glory of the light of the pillar of Fire. Israel had rejoiced in them in that light; but the enemy and his army saw and believed when it was too late that the Lord fought for Israel.
Then the word of the Lord went forth, and Moses stretched out again his rod of judgment, and the sea returned to his strength, and swept down upon the hosts of Egypt, and not one remained.
As we think over this solemn story, let us each inquire, Is God for me? Am I delivered from all enemies by the death and resurrection of Christ, or am I going on in the dark right down into the waters of death to meet the just judgment of God? It is one or the other with all of us. Our portion who believe is to rejoice in the death and resurrection of the Lord in the light of God, and to know ourselves freed from all foes, and to be assured that there is for us now no condemnation.
H. F. W.
Thou art the God that doest wonders;
Thou hast declared Thy strength among the people.
Thou hast with Thine arm redeemed Thy people.

William Farel.
(Continued from sh. 64).
IT was not difficult to find willing hearers. At one town after another crowds came together, anxious to know what the great preacher of the Pays de Vaud had to say. At Morat great numbers seem to have been truly converted. They gathered from distant villages, and arrived in troops from the mountains, warning one another by the way not to “fall into the heretic’s trap.” But as Farel preached, one after another were cut to the heart, and sat lost in wonder at the great and glad tidings. Like Whitefield, Farel saw their eyes fixed upon him with streaming tears, as he told them of the Saviour who had sent him. In Morat, and in many other places great multitudes believed.
The good councilors of Berne sent messages of encouragement to the converted people. They told them that, as far as in them lay, they would protect them from all ill-usage, they only desired them to cleave fast to the Lord. “Be not afraid,” they said, “trust to the Lord, who has made heaven and earth, and who upholds all things by the word of His power. Only trust in Him, and leave Him to care for His own.” On the other hand, the priests everywhere stirred up those who remained in unbelief, and there were often stormy scenes, to which Farel was by this time well inured. But they were glorious days, which well repaid him for toilsome journeys and rough treatment. Not a few of the priests themselves believed and were saved. All around were those to be found who were casting their idols to the moles and to the bats. And from many a village and mountain chalet the worship that is in spirit and in truth began at last to ascend to God.
The Bernese warned Farel not to proceed too hastily to the destruction of the images. Such measures should be taken deliberately, not in a moment of excitement. And many might be found ready to drive away the priests and break the idols, who were not equally ready to take up the cross and follow Christ. It was wise advice which was given by the councilors of Berne. “Since you have received the word of God, it is right and seemly that you should give to every man his due, and not go beyond you authority. For the word of God does not preach liberty to the flesh, but liberty to the spirit, and to the conscience.” So passed the last six months of the year 1529.
And now, as time went on, Farel had had the joy of seeing the four Bernese parishes of the Pays de Vaud turned from their idols to the living God. During the last six months, he had been able to rejoice over multitudes in other parts of western Switzerland, who had believed in the Lord Jesus, and received eternal life.
But there were three large towns where, as yet the Gospel had not been preached. These three towns were Lausanne, Neuchatel, and Geneva. You will remember that Farel had twice attempted to preach at Lausanne. Twice he had been driven away unheard. He would go there again some day, if the Lord would make the way. But in the meantime he would turn his steps to the place towards which his thoughts had often turned—to the old town of Neuchatel.
You will find Neuchatel on the northern shore of the lake, which bears its name. It is a quiet pleasant town, on the slope of the vine-clad hills, the lake below, the steep hills of the Jura above it; and opposite, far away across the blue waters the snowy peaks of the Alps, range behind range, stretching back as far as the great Moni Blanc amongst the mountains of Savoy. It was on a November day, in that year 1529, that a weather-beaten, sunburnt man, with a red beard and flashing eyes, arrived, staff in hand before the walls of Neuchatel. “He had come,” we are told, “to take possession of Neuchatel in the name of the Lord Jesus.”
There it stood, the old popish town, with its fine castle, and its churches, and its convents—five large convents—besides the great college of the canons, and these amongst them owned the land on every side. Everything was in the hands of the priests and monks, who had it all their own way, for the governor of Neuchatel was all they could desire, an obedient servant of Rome.
This governor, George de Rive, represented the real sovereign of Neuchatel, Jeanne de Hochberg. She was the heiress of the earls of Neuchatel, but had married a French prince, the Duke of Orleans, and she liked better to live a gay life in France than to be shut up in the quiet old castle of Neuchatel, where, according to the simple manners of the Swiss, the kitchen was her state apartment, and the citizens’ wives the only company. She was a vain, extravagant, pleasure-loving princess, and she was glad that George de Rive should look after everything at Neuchatel and never trouble her about business, except to send her the revenues of the little state to spend in Paris.
Such was the condition of affairs when Farel arrived. He was well aware that the very sound of his name would rouse the priests and people into fury. He was known now far and wide as the great heretic preacher—the image breaker—the blasphemer. And had his face been as well-known as his evil deeds, he might expect worse treatment than any he had yet received. But Farel knew what he was doing when he thus invaded the dark old town. He brought with him the weapon before which “every high thing shall be cast down, which exalts itself against the knowledge of God.” He brought with him the word which “is as fire, which is as a hammer that breaketh the rocks in pieces,” and what could five convents, or five thousand convents, do against the power of the Lord, when His time was come to seek and to save the lost?
What was to be done first? How was Farel to begin the attack upon this stronghold of Satan? He turned his steps towards the little parsonage of Serrières. This village, which is the port of Neuchatel, belonged, not to Neuchatel, but to the town of Bienne, which had already, through Farel’s preaching, received the truth. And Farel had heard that the curate of Serrières, Emer Beynon by name, “had some liking for the Gospel.” To him, therefore, he would go. Thus did God remember this solitary priest, in his little village, whose heart was longing after something better than the dead forms, and the senseless ceremonies of his church.
Emer Beynon had not yet made one step out of Rome. But God can see where there is but a spark of the light which shines from the face of Christ. And where but one ray has shone into the soul, that ray will shine forth. What light we have, we give out, and we can give out no more. No eloquence, no talent, no energy can ever make a spark of light shine forth, beyond that which has shone into the heart from God, and where there is but a longing of the soul for Christ, some light will go forth around. If you turn to the 6th verse of the 4th Chapter of II. Corinthians, yet will there see some words which are not perhaps very clearly translated in the English Bible—the verse expresses that, “God has shone in our hearts, for the shining forth of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” This was true of Paul, and true of all into whose hearts any ray, however faint, of that wondrous light has shone. And from the poor earthen, vessel, the village curate of Serrières, there shone forth light enough to guide the steps of Farel to the door which the Lord had opened.
It was a memorable day in the poor curate’s life, when the stranger knocked at the door of his little parsonage, and told him that he was William Farel. God had at last answered to the desire of his heart. He not only received Farel gladly, and welcomed him warmly, but immediately bethought himself how the preaching could at once begin. It would be a bold step to ask Farel to preach in his church. “And that too, is forbidden,” he said; “but why not in the churchyard? No one has forbidden that—and then there are fields and hillsides, which do just as well for preaching places as a little church.”
Farel lost no time. As the people came to the mass, he stood up, like John Wesley, at Epworth, on a stone in the churchyard, and there he preached the Gospel. Crowds gathered around and the tidings spread to Neuchatel that the great heretic preacher was come. “But he preaches beautiful things,” said the people of Serrières; “he tells us of the love of God, and of Christ in Heaven.”
The citizens of Neuchatel determined to hear for themselves, and throngs of men, women, and children poured out of the old town, and filled Earner Beynon’s churchyard. In vain, the governor, the canons, the priests, and the monks threatened and warned the people. These hungry souls seemed as though they could never hear enough. If ever you go to Neuchatel, you may still see the stone which was Farel’s pulpit.
Amongst the citizens of Neuchatel was a brave soldier, called James Wildermuth. He had heard of Farel’s preaching at Aigle, and at other places. And, moreover, he had himself believed the glad tidings of the grace of God. Great was his joy when he was told that Farel was come. “The poor, pious Farel,” he wrote to Berne, “has arrived here, and he presented a letter inviting those in the town to hear him preach the Word of Christ, which he would gladly have done with all his heart, but the authorities forbid it. There upon I went to the governor, George de Rive, to see what I could do.” But George de Rive had no intention to allow a heretic to preach in the town. Whereupon, the brave James Wildermuth, with other citizens, determined to take the matter into their own hands. They went to find Farel. They led him in triumph through the old castle gate, along the steep street into the market place. There was the first Gospel sermon preached in Neuchatel.
You, who have often heard the glad tidings, who can never remember the time when you did not hear it, can hardly imagine how strange, how wonderful, and how blessed were those words of grace to these poor Swiss people. “That sermon,” says the old Chronicle of Neuchatel, “won many hearts.” Around the preacher stood the wondering crowd—the weavers and the vine dressers, the merchants and the laborers—eager to catch every word. Farel spoke with a solemn reality, with an authority which awed them into silence. But suddenly a cry arose:— “Down with the heretic! kill him! Drown him in the fountain!” The monks had glided in amongst the throng, and they made a sudden rush upon the preacher. But Farel had now defenders enough. The monks soon found it would be at the risk of their lives, were they to harm the man whom God had sent.
Day after day the preaching went on. “I keep Farel here,” wrote James Wildermuth. “I make him preach in the houses, because I know that he can thus do good. It is true that I have to endure many threats in consequence, but I may well learn to disregard them, knowing that God is stronger than man or the devil!” Not only in doors, but out of doors were the blessed tidings preached. The bitter winds of December and the falling snow were unable to hinder the crowds who gathered wherever Farel’s voice was heard. If they but saw him in the street, they would throng around him. Each one had some question to ask, and, most of all, the great question Farel was so glad to answer— “What must I do to be saved?”
F. B.