January 14

"And it came to pass the third day, which was Pharaoh's birthday, that he made a feast unto all his servants: and he lifted up the head of the chief butler and of the chief baker among his servants." GKN. 40:20.

IF the chief butler had been falsely, and the chief baker had been justly accused, the providence of God was now seen in the clearing of the one, and the punishment of the other. If both were either equally innocent or guilty, here was an instance of the arbitrariness of a prince who probably prided himself in his absolute authority, and in having it said, "Whom he would he slew, and whom he would he kept alive." Or perhaps he designed to show his subjects that he would be known both in the exercise of mercy and judgment. And hence the season was his birthday.

The birthday of princes has been anciently and generally solemnized as a token of the respect due to their sovereignty; but it has often been abused, and given rise to wickedness and mischief. We see this in the case of Jeroboam. At the commemoration of his birth intemperance rioted, and the intoxication of the king himself injured his health, and made him forget his dignity in his joining familiarly with low buffoons and jesters: "In the day of our king, the princes have made him sick with bottles of wine; he stretched out his hand with scorners." And how was it, on a similar occasion, with Herod? "Herod on his birthday made a supper to his lords, high captains, and chief estates in Galilee;" the daughter of Herodias danced—the king was excited—and John was beheaded!

But in almost every rank of life the usage prevails of persons observing with some degree of festivity the day of their birth. The thing is lawful in itself, if it be used lawfully. It may be used profitably. But our pious forefathers made it, if a day of relative intercourse and congratulation, yet a day also of pious feeling and regard. And surely it should be made

A day of thanksgiving to the Author and Giver of life, for our being—for the rank we occupy in the scale of creation—for the country and family in which we were brought forth—for our civil and religious advantages—and for our preservation through so many perils, and when so many have been cut off.

A day of humiliation, that we were shapen in iniquity, and in sin did our mother conceive us—that we went astray from the womb—that our transgressions are innumerable, and our trespass is gone up into the very heavens—and that we have not improved, as we ought to have done, any of our privileges: "I do remember my faults this day."

A day of reflection, that as there is a time to be born, so there is a time to die—that so much of life is already passed away as a shadow, that when a few years are come, we shall go the way whence we shall not return—that our continuance here is as uncertain as it is short— that we may never see this day again; and if we do not, where shall we be when it returns?

A day of prayer, that we may so number our days as to apply our hearts unto wisdom—that we may obtain pardoning mercy and renewing grace—that we may be prepared for all the duties and trials that lie before us—that whether we live, we may live unto the Lord; or whether we die, we may die unto the Lord; so that, living and dying, we may be the Lord's.

Happy they who, without complaining of their lot, or being impatient to be gone, yet know the day of their death is better than the day of their birth. Though for them to live is Christ, to die is gain. Every returning birthday tells them, "So much nearer your heavenly home."

But how dreadful the state of those who know—and, if they consider, they must know—that every year advances them so much away from all they love, and brings them so much nearer a world in which, as they have no hope, so after which they can have no desire. If conscience be not stupefied, and all thought banished by company and gayety, a birthday to them is far from enviable. Verses may be written, addresses may be received, smiles may be put on, but even in laughter the heart is sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is heaviness.

What a difference in the two following references to the birth of the individuals:

"Who," says Voltaire, "can, without horror, consider the whole world as the empire of destruction? It abounds with wonders; it also abounds with victims. It is a vast field of carnage and contagion. Every species is without pity pursued and torn to pieces through the earth and air and water. In man there is more wretchedness than in all the other animals put together. He loves life, and yet he knows that he must die. If he enjoys a transient good, he suffers various evils, and is at last devoured by worms. This knowledge is his fatal prerogative; other animals have it not. He spends the transient moments of his existence in diffusing the miseries which he suffers; in cutting the throats of his fellow-creatures for pay; in cheating and being cheated; in robbing and being robbed; in serving, that he might command, and in repenting of all he does. The bulk of mankind are nothing more than a crowd of wretches equally criminal and unfortunate; and the globe contains rather carcasses than men. I tremble, at the review of this dreadful picture, to find that it contains a complaint against providence itself, and I WISH I HAD NEVER BEEN BORN."

Now let us hear the language of the excellent Hallyburton, who died as he lived, full of confidence in God. "I shall shortly get a very different sight of God from what I have ever had, and shall be made meet to praise him for ever and ever. Oh, the thoughts of an incarnate Deity are sweet and ravishing. Oh, how I wonder at myself that I do not love him more, and that I do not admire him more. What a wonder that I enjoy such composure under all my bodily pains, and in the view of death itself. What a mercy that, having the use of my reason, I can declare his goodness to my soul. I long for his salvation; I bless his name I have found him, and die rejoicing in him. Oh, blessed be God that I was born! Oh, that I was where he is. I have a father and mother, and ten brothers and sisters in heaven, and I shall be the eleventh. Oh, there is a telling in this providence, and I shall be telling it for ever. If there be such a glory in his conduct towards me now, what will it be to see the Lamb in the midst of the throne! Blessed be God that ever I was born."