December 30

of the greater. And Jacob was in this respect greater than Pharaoh—He was the servant of the Most High God—a prophet of the Lord—and who had obtained the name of Israel, because as a prince, he had power with God as well as with man, and could prevail. He therefore invokes the benediction of God upon him; upon his person, upon his family, upon his government, upon his empire—thus delicately and inoffensively leading him to think of the Supreme Being, and to feel his dependence upon him. What is a palace without the blessing of God? His loving kindness is better than life.

DECEMBER 30.—“And Pharaoh said unto Jacob, How old art thou?”—Genesis 47:8.

We may consider the question as an instance of condescension and kindness on the part of Pharaoh. There is something in majesty that overawes and overpowers those who have been brought up remote from it. Pharaoh was the greatest monarch of the age, and Jacob had been a plain man, dwelling in tents, and acquainted only with rustic life and manners; and he was now at a period too late to acquire new modes of address. A true nobleman can disembarrass those that address him, and inspire them with decent confidence, without lowering the respect they entertain for him: and this is very much done by seizing something with which the inferior is familiar, and in which he feels more at home. Jacob probably dreaded this interview because of the conversation; the king therefore instantly begins upon his age. This would also be pleasing to Jacob. Old people love to talk of early scenes, and of things they saw and heard before others were born. Their years give them a kind of dignity and pre-eminence. Years have in all countries laid a foundation for respect—“Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honour the face of the old man.”

But let the preacher bring home this question, especially as we are so near the end of another year, to all who are here present. We would not have even females excluded. In this quarter indeed we should feel an impropriety in the question if an answer were to be returned aloud. The age of only one woman, even when she died, is mentioned in the Scripture—It were rude to pry where secrecy is so sacred. Years are at variance with personal attraction and impression; and many dislike to be reminded of the failure of their reign. But if by dress and hired tints they try to impose upon others, can they be ignorant themselves? Know they not the real lapse of their time and their influence? Let them therefore be concerned to establish an empire upon something more solid than corporeal charms—Let them cultivate the mind; let them adorn the heart and life with the graces of the Holy Spirit; let them abound in good works; let them with Mary choose the good part that shall not be taken away from them—Thus they will descend even into the vale of age with honour, and be estimable even in the tomb.

Allow me then to ask each of you, “How old art thou?” It is a question which you can answer. There is a great difference between looking backward and looking forward. You know not what a day may bring forth. You cannot tell how long you have to live—But you know how long you have lived. It is a question you

ought to answer. There is nothing of more importance than to know how you stand with regard to the progress of your time. Time is your most valuable possession. Every thing depends upon it; and once gone it can never be recalled. Inquire therefore how much of it is gone; and how much of it probably remains.

The days of our years are threescore years and ten. Few indeed reach this period. But this is the general limit. And beyond it no man has a right to look. Philip Henry therefore, when he had entered his seventieth year, always dated his letters, "The year of my dying." Yet have not some of you even passed this period? Are not others near it? And do not even fifty, forty, thirty years, make an awful inroad upon the measure? Are you in early life? You think perhaps that you have many years before you, during which your eye will see good. But do you learn this from Scripture and observation? Do not both these tell you that childhood and youth are vanity? Are you aged? On what distance are you reckoning before you reach your journey's end? Miles? Furlongs? Feet? There is but a step between you and death. Are you old in sin? Your time is ending, and your work not even yet begun.

Here the question assumes a spiritual import. Christians are new creatures. They are born again. How old are we in grace? We have lived really no longer than we have lived to God, a life of faith, hope, holiness, and love. Where then are we in the Divine life? What are we in the family of God? Are we little children, or young men, or fathers in Christ?

Christian! how old art thou? "Old enough to be wiser and better. I blush to think how great my advantages have been, and how I have misimproved them. How long have I been in the best of all schools, and how little have I learned? Lord, clothe me with humility. Enable me to present thee a broken heart and a contrite spirit which thou wilt not despise."

"What have I done for him that died To save my wretched soul? How have my follies multiplied, Fast as my minutes roll."

What am I to do this evening?

"Lord, with this guilty heart of mine To thy dear cross I flee; And to thy grace my soul resign, To be renewed by thee."

Aged Christian! What says your answer to this question?—Now is your salvation nearer than when you believed. A few more descending suns, and "thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw herself; for God shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy sojourning shall be ended."

DECEMBER 31.—"And Jacob said unto Pharaoh, The days of the years of my pilgrimage are an hundred and thirty years: few and evil, have the days of the years of my life been."—Genesis 47:9.

THERE is something very simple and affecting in this representation. It places life before us under the image of a pilgrimage. Such Jacob's life was literally. We find him perpetually changing his residence. He never occupied a mansion. What the Apostle

says of Abraham applies also to Isaac and Jacob: "By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise. These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that say such things, declare plainly that they seek a country. And truly, if they had been mindful of that country from whence they came out, they might have had opportunity to have returned. But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city." This fine passage shows us that Jacob was a pilgrim, not only or principally because of his outward condition, but his spiritual experience. He was allied to another and a nobler world by birth, by his possessions there, and by his advancement towards it.

Life indeed is a pilgrimage, even naturally considered. We never continue in one stay. We pass through successive periods of being; through days, and weeks, and years; through infancy, youth, manhood, and old age; and then we go down to the grave. In this sense none are residents here; all are travellers, hastening the way of all the earth.

But the figure is more strikingly true, if taken in a religious sense. The progression we have just mentioned is not the choice or wish of the multitude: and we can hardly call a man a pilgrim who is driven by force, and carried along as a prisoner or a captive; he only deserves the name who has an object in view, and which he is anxious to attain, and towards which he is voluntarily moving. Others are men of the world,"

"Their hope and portion lies below, 'Tis all the happiness they know."

But the Christian has his "conversation in heaven," and can say,

"What others value, I resign, Lord 'tis enough that thou art mine; I shall behold thy blissful face, And stand complete in righteousness."

But Jacob attaches to his pilgrimage two properties. First, brevity—"Few have the days of the years of my life been." Yet he had lived one hundred and thirty years. But Isaac had lived one hundred and eighty; and Abraham one hundred and seventy-five, and Terah two hundred and five. And what were these ages compared with those before the Flood? And what were those compared with eternity! Yet this properly applies much stronger to our life than to the life of Jacob. There is not a man now living who expects to reach one hundred and thirty. The sacred writers have employed every image importing shortness of duration to characterize the hastiness of our continuance here. A flood. A tale. A vapour. A wearer's shuttle. An eagle pouncing on his prey. What is it then when compared with the grand purposes of life—The salvation of the soul! The glorifying of God! The serving of our generation! Surely we have not a moment to lose! And as in a letter, if the paper is small, and we have much to write, we write closer, so let us learn to economize and improve the remaining moments of life.