The ledger. [volume] (Gaffney City, S.C.) 1896-1907, October 17, 1895, Image 5
THE WEEKLY LEDGER: GAFFNEY, S. C., OCTOBER l?, 1895.
AN ANGELIC RESCUE.
A GRACIOUS FATHER AND AN OBE
DIENT AND RELIGIOUS SON.
i Abraham'* feupinue Trial of Faith and tha
Savliig ct Iwiias From lloinc OflTrrad an a
^acrlflcr—Itev. I>r. Ti;lmae«-’n Masterly
prnion.
tw Yohk, Oct. 18.—In liis nenuou
R*>v. Dr. Tnliimge chnso for
get Abralnun’H finprenie trial of
tlio angelic resene of Isaac
offered by his father as a
Tlie text was Genesis xxii, 7,
the fire and the wood, but
the lamb?”
fie Abraham and Isaac, the one
fd, old, gracious, affectionate father,
fr^™^ other a brave, obedient, religious
Im^s ^', ruIU llis ljr0uz0(1 appearance you
Tnlmaii’s >i]||^ 1 *‘ s s< ’ ,, ' )C011 much in
• I look u from his shaggy dress
cal niDii't’ w that he has been watc hing the
ptiuids. The mountain air has painted his
pheek rubicund. He is 20 or 25 or, as
time suppo-e, o2 years of age, never-
dess a boy, considering the length of
to which people lived in those times
fhe fact that a son never is any-
jbut a boy to a father. I remember
|ny father used to come into the
children uere homo on
ki and say, ‘‘Where
Jnigh ‘‘the boys”
years of age. So
B5oy to Abraham, and
ft is in him. It is Isaac
fere. If there is any
tie father’s tent, Isaac
]s Isaac’s walk, and
[id Isaac’s manners,
jets, and Isaac’s pros-
Vs heartstrings are all
that boy and wrapped
...fTT nine-tenths of the old man’s
life is in Isaac. I can just imagine how
lovingly and proudly he looked at his
only sou.
The Sacrifice.
Well, the dear old man had borne a
great deal of trouble, and it had left its
mark upon him. In hieroglyphics of
wrinkle the story was written from
forehead to chin. But now his trouble
seems all gone, and we are glad that he
is very soon to rest forever. If the old
man shall get decrepit, Isaac is strong
enough to wait on him. If the father
get dim of eyesight, Isaac will lead him
by the hand. If the father become des
titute, Isaac will earn him bread. How
glad we are that the ship that has been
in such a stormy sea is coming at last
into the harbor. Are you not rejoiced
that glorious old Abraham is through
with his troubles? No, no! A thunder
bolt ! From that clear eastern sky there
drops into that father's tent a voice
with an announcement enough to turn
black hair white and to stun the patri
arch into instant annihilation. God
said, ‘‘Abraham!” The old man an
swered, ‘‘Here I am!” God said to him,
‘‘Take thy sou, thy only son Isaac,
whom thou lovest, and get thee into the
land of Moriah and offer him there as a
burnt offering. ” In other words, slay
him; cut his body into fragments; put
the fragments on the wood; set lire to
the wood and let Isaac’s body be con
sumed to ashes.
“Cannibalism! Murder!” says some
one. ‘‘Not so,” said Abraham. I hear
him soliloquize: ‘‘Here is the boy on
| w)i<,m I bavo depended! Oh, how I
jived him! He was given in answer to
Irayer, and now must I surrender him?
O Isaac, my sou ! Isaac, how shall I part
with you? But then it is always safer
to do as God asks mo to. I have been
in dark places before, and God got me
out. I will implicitly do as God has
told me, although it is very dark. I
can’t see my way, but I know God
makes no mistakes, and to him I com
mit myself and my darling sou.”
Early in the morning there je a stir
around Abraham’s tent. A beast of bur
den is fed and saddled. Abraham makes
no disclosure of the awful secret. At
the break of day he says: “Come, come,
Isaac, get up! We are going off on a two
or three days’ journey.” I hoar the ax
hewing and splitting amid the wood
until the sticks are made the right
length and the right thickness, and then
they are fastened on the beast of burden.
They pass on. There are four of them—
Abraham, the father; Isaac, the son,
and two servants. Going along the road
1 see Isaac looking up into his father’s
face and saying: “Father, what is the
matter? Are you not well? Hasanything
happened? Are you tired? Lean on my
arm.” Then, turning around to the
servants, the son says, “Ah, father is
getting old, and he has had trouble
enough in other days to kill him!”
Looking For the Lamb.
The third morning has come, and it
is the day of the tragedy. The two serv
ants are left with the beast of burden,
while Abraham and his sou Isaac, as
was the custom of good people in those
times, went up on the hill to sacrifice
to the Lord. The wood is taken off the
beast's back and put on Isaac’s back.
Abraham has in one hand a pan of coals
or a lamp and in the other a sharp,
keen knife. Hero are all the appliances
for sacrifice, you say. No, there is one
thing wanting. There is no victim—no
pigeon or heifer or lamb. Isaac, not
knowing that he is to he the victim,
looks up into his father’s face and asks
a question which must have cut the old
man to the bone, “Myfather!” The fa
ther said, “My son, Isaac, here 1 am.”
The sou said, “Behold the (ire and tho
wood, hut where is the Jamb?” The fa
ther’s lip quivered, and his heart faint
ed, and his knees knocked together, and
his entire body, mind and soul shiver
in sickening anguish as he struggles to
gain equipoise, for ho does not w uut to
break down. And then ho looks into his
bou’s face with a thousand rushing ten-
dorucKRCn and says, “My sou, God will
provide himself a lamb.”
The twain are now at the foot of the
hill, tho place which is to be famous for
a most tnuimrendcut occurrence. They
gnther some stooeN out of the field and
b'dld an altar of threeurtuur feet high.
Sian Unj this wvud of Imum *
back and sprinkle it over the stones, so
as to help and invito tho (lame. The
altar is done—it is all done. Isaac has
helped to build it. With his father ho
has disciMcd whether the top of the
table is even and whether the wood is
properly prepared. Then there is a
pause. The son looks around to see if
there is not some living animal that can
be caught and butchered for the offer
ing. Abraham tries to choko down his
fatherly feelings and suppress his grief
in order that he may break to his sou
the terrific news that be is to be tho
victim.
All, Isaac never looked more beauti
ful than on that day to his father. As
the old man ran his emaciated fingers
through his son’s hair he said to him
self : “How shall 1 give him up? What
will his mother say when I come back
without my boy? I tie aght he would
have beeu tho comfort of my declining
days. I thought ho would have been tho
hope of ages to come. Beautiful and
loving, and yet to die under my own
hand. O God, is there u t some other
sacrifice that will do? Take my life and
spare his! Pour out my blood aud save
Isaac for his mother and the world!”
But this was an inward struggle. Tho
father controls his feelings and looks
into his son’s face and says, “Isaac,
must I tell yon all?” His son said:
“Yes, father; I thought yon had some
thing on your mind. Tell it.” Tho
father said, “My sou, Isaac, thou art
the lamb!” “Oh,” you say, “why
didn’t that young man, if ho was 20 or
80 years of age, smite into tho dust his
infirm father? He could have done it. ”
Ah, Isaac knew by this time that the
scene was typical of a Messiah who was
to conic, aud so he made no struggle.
They fell ou each other’s necks and
wailed out the parting. Awful and
matchless scene of the wilderness! The
rocks echo hack the breaking of their
hearts. The cry, “My sou, my sou!”
The answer, “My father, my father!”
The Lamb Found.
Do not compare this, as some people
have, to Agamemnon willing to offer
up his daughter, Iphigenia, to please tho
gods. There is nothing comparable to
this wonderful obedience to tho true
God. You know that victims for sacri
fice were always bound, so that they
might not struggle away. Rawlings,
the martyr, when ho was dying for
Christ’s sake, said to tho blacksmith
who held the manacles, “Fasten those
chains tight now, for my flesh may
struggle mightily. ” So Isaac’s arms are
fast* ued, his feet are tied. The old mau,
rallying all his strength, lifts him on to
a pile of wood. Fastening a thong on
one side of the altar, ho makes it span
the body of Isaac, and fastens the thong
at the other side the altar, and another
thcjiig, and another thong. There is tho
lamp flickering in tho wind ready to bo
put uudeu* the brushwood e>f the altar.
There is the knife, sharp and keen.
Abraham—struggling with his mortal
feelings ou tho one side and the com
mands of God on tho other—takes that
knife, rubs the flat of it on the palm of
his hand, ciies to God for help, comes
up to the side of tho altar, puts a part
ing kiss on the brow of his boy, takes a
message from him for mother aud borne,
and thou lifting tho glittering weapon
for the plunge of the death stroke—his
muscles knitting for the work—the hand
begins to descend. It falls! Not on the
heart of Isaac, but on the arm of God,
who arrests tho stroke, making the wil
derness quake with tho cry, “Abraham,
Abraham, lay not thy baud upon tho
lad, nor do him any harm !”
What is this sound back in the woods?
It is a crackling as of tree branches, a
bleating and a struggle. Go, Abraham,
and see what it is. Oh, it was a ram
that, going through the woods, has its
crooked horns fastened and entangled in
the brushwood and could not get loose,
and Abraham seizes it gladly and quick
ly unloosens Isaac from the altar, puts
the ram on in his place, sets tho lamp
under tho brushwood of the altar, and
as the dense smoke of the sacrifice be
gins to rise the blood rolls down tho
sides of the altar and drops hissing into
the fire, and I hear the words, “Behold
tho Lamb of God who takes away tho
sins of the world !”
Well, what are you going to get out
of this? There is an aged minister of
the gospel. Ho says: “I should get ont
of it that when God tells you to do a
thing, whether it seems reasonable to
you or not, go ahead and do it. Here'
Abraham couldn't have been mistaken.
God didn’t speak so indistinctly that it
was not certain whether ho called Sarah
or Abimelech or somebody else, but
with divine artienlation, divine intona
tion, divine emphasis, he said, ‘Abra
ham!’ Abraham rushed blindly ahead to
do his duty, know ing that things would
Gome out light. Likewise do so your
selves. There is a mystery of your life.
1 here is some burden you have to cany.
You don't know why God lias put it on
yon. There is some persecution, some
trial, and you don’t know why God al
lows it. There is a work for you to do,
and you have not enough grace, yon
think, to do it. Do as Abraham did.
Advance and do your whole duty. Be
willing to give up Isaac, and perhaps
you will not have to give up anything.
‘Jehovah-jireh’ — the Lord will pro
vide." A capital lesson this old minis
ter gives us.
Out yonder in this house is an aged
woman, the light of heaven in her face.
She is half way through the door, bhc
has her hand ou the pearl of the gate.
Mother, what would you get out of this
subject? “Oh,” she says, “1 would
learn that it is in tho last pinch that
God conics to the relief. You see, the
altar was ready, and Isaac was fastened
on it, and the knife was lilted, aud Just
nt the last moment God broke in and
implied proceedings. So it has been in
my life of 70 years. Why, sir, there
was a timn when tho flour was all out
of tho home, and I set thetahlo at noon
and hud nothing to put ou it, hot five
minutes of 1 o’clock a loaf of bread
came The Lord w ill provide. Mv sou
was very sick, and I said: ‘Dear Lord,
you don’t mean to take him away from
me, do you? Please, Lord, don't take
him «way Why, then ms ttiiylibMi
who have three and four sons. This is
my only sou. This is my Isaac. Lord,
you won’t take him away from me,
will you:’ But I saw ho was getting
worse and woiso all the time, and I
turned round and prayed, until after
awhile I felt submissive, and I could
say, ‘Thy will, O Lord, lie done!’ The
doctors gave him up, and wo all gave
him up. Aud, as was the custom in
those times, we had made the grave
clothes, and we were whispering about
the last exorcises, when I looked and I
saw some perspiration ou his brow,
showing that the fever had broken, aud
he spoke to us so naturally that I knew
he was going to get well. He did get
well, and my son Isaac, whom 1 thought
was going to be slain and consumed of
disease, was loosened from that altar.
And, bless your souls, that’s been so for
70 years, and if my voice were not so
weak, and if I could see better, I could
preach to you younger people a sermon,
for though I can’t see much I can see
this—whenever you get into a tough
place and your heart is breaking, if
you will look a little farther into the
woods, you will see, caught in tho
branches, a substitute and a deliver
ance. ‘My son, God will provide him
self a lamb. ’ ”
A Greater Sacrifice.
Thank you, mother, for that short ser
mon. I could preach hack to you for a
minute or two and say, never do you
fear! I wish I had half as good a hope
of heaven as you have. Do not fear,
mother. Whatever happens, no harm
will over happen to jou. 1 was going up
a long flight of stairs and I saw an aged
woman, very decrepit and with a cane,
creeping on up. She made but very lit
tle progress, and I felt very exuberant,
and I said to her, “Why, mother, that is
no way to go up stairs,” and I threw
my arms around her, aud I carried her
up and put her down on the landing at
tho top of tho stairs. She said: “Thank
you, thank you. lam very thankful.”
O mother, when you get through this
life’s work and you want to go up stairs
and rest in the good place that God has
provided for you, you will not have to
climb up, you will not have tocrawl up
painfully. The two arms that were
stretched on the cross will be flung
around you, aud you will bo hoisted
with a glorious lift beyond all weariness
and all struggle. May the God of Abra- /
bam and Isaac bo with you until you see j
the Lamb on the hilltops.
Now, that aged minister lias made a
suggestion, an 1 this aged woman lias
made a suggestion. I will make a sug
gestion : Isaac going up the hill makes
me think of the great sacrifice. Isaac,
tho only son of Abraham. Jesus, the
only son of God. Ou those two “oulys”
I build a tearful emphasis. O Isaac! O
Jesus! But this last sacrifice was a more
tremendous one. When the knife was
lifted over Calvary there was no voice
that cried “Stop!” and no hand arrested
it. Sharp, keen and tremendous it cut
down through nerve and artery until tho
blood sprayed the faces of the execution
ers, and the midday sun dropped a veil
of cloud over its face because it could
not endure the spectacle. O Isaac of
Mount Moriah! O Jesus of Mount Cal
vary! Better could God have thrown
away into annihilation a thousand
worlds than to have sacrificed his only
Son. It was not one of the ten sons; it
was his only Son. If ho had not given
up him, you and I would have perished.
“God so loved the world that he gave
his only”— I stop there, not because I
have forgotten the quotation, but be
cause I want to think. “God so loved
the world that lie gave bis only begotten
Son that whosoever believeth in him
should not perish, but have everlasting
life.” Great God, break my heart at
the thought of that sacrifice. Isaac the
only, typical of Jesus tho only.
Yi n see Isaac going up the hill and
carrying the wood. O Abraham, why
not take the load off the boy? If he is
going to die so soon, why not make his
last hours easy? Abraham knew that in
carrying that wood up Mount Moriah
Isaac was to bo a symbol of Christ car
rying his own cross up Calvary. I do
not know how heavy that cross was— j
whether it was made of oak or acacia or |
Lebanon cedar. I suppose it may have
weighed 100 or 200 or 800 pounds.
That was tho lightest part of tho bur
den. All the sins and sorrows of tho
world were wound around that cross.
The heft of one, the heft of two worlds
—earth aud hell were ou his shoulders.
O Isaac, carrying the wood of sacrifice
up Mount Moriah I O Jesus, carrying
the wood of sacrifice up Mount Calvary,
tho agonies of earth and hell wrapped
around that cross! I shall never see the
heavy load on Isaac’s back that I shall
not think of the crushing load on
Christ’s hack. For whom that load? For
you. For you. For mo. For me. Would
that all tho tears that we have ever
wept over our sorrows had been saved
until this morning, and that wo might
now pour them out on the lacerated
back aud feet and heart of tho Sou of
God.
Food For the Kotil.
You say: “If this young man was
20 or 80 years of ago, why did not ho
resist? Why was it not Isaac binding
Abraham, instead of Abraham binding
Isaac? The muscle in Isaac's arm was
stronger than tho musclo in Abraham's
withered arm. No young man 25 years
of ago would submit to have his father
fasten him to a pile of wood with inten
tion of burning.” Isaac was a willing
sacrifice, and so a typo of Christ who
willingly came to save tho world. If all
the armies of heaven had resolved to
force Christ out from tho gate, they
could not have done it. Christ was
equal with God. If all the battalions of
glory had armed themselves and resolved
to put Christ forth aud make him come
ont and save this world, they could not
have succeeded in It. With one stroke
he would have toppled over angelic and
archaiigclio dominion.
Bnt there was one thing that the om
nipotent Christ could not stand. Our
sorrows mustered him. He could not
bear to see the world die without an of
fer of pardon and help, and If all heav
en hud armed itself to keep him back,
M U« ptM» Ufa had Immi Wlt«4 abd
double burred, Christ would have flung
the everlasting doors from their hinges,
und would have sprung forth, scattering
the hindering hosts of heaven liko chuff
before the whirlwind, as he cried: “Lol
Iconic to suffer. Lo! I come to die.”
Christ—a willing sacrifice. Willing to
take Bethlehem humiliation, aud San
hedrin outrage, and whipping post
maltreatment, and Golgotha butchery.
Willing to be hound. Willing to suffer.
Willing to die. Willing to save.
How does this affect you? Do not
your very best impulses bound out to
ward this pain struck Christ? Get down
at his feet, O ye people. 'Put your lips
against the wound ou his rig'^foot aud
help kiss away the pang. W “•‘lie foam
from his dying lip. Get undi i the cross
until yon feel the baptism of his rushing
tears. Take him into your heart with
warmest love and undying enthusiasm.
By your resistances yon have abused him
long enough. Christ is willing to save
you. Are you willing to be saved? It
seems to me as if this moment were
throbbing with the invitations of an all
compassn nate God.
I have been told that the cathedral of
St. Mark stands in a quarter in the
center of the city of Venice, and that
when the clock strikes 12 at noon all
tho birds from tho city and tho regions
round about tho city fly to tho square
aud settle down. It came in this wise:
A large hearted woman, passing one
noonday across tho square, saw some
birds shivering in the cold, and she
scattered some crumbs of bread among
them. The next day, at the same hour,
she scattered mere crumbs of bread
among them, and so ou from year to
year until the day of her death. In her
will she bequeathed a certain amount
of money to keep up the same practice,
and now, at the first stroke of the bell
at noon tho birds begin to come there,
and when the clock has struck 12 tho
square is covered with them. How
beautifully suggestive! Christ conics
ont to feed thy soul today. The more
hungry yon feel yourselves to bo the
better it is. It is noon, and the gospel
clock strikes 12. Como in flocks! Come
as doves to the window! All the air is
filled with the liquid chime: Come!
Como! Como!
What Shall l Do? | R. S. LIPSCOMB,
Is the earnest, almost agonizing cry o!
weak, tired, nervous womec, and crowded,
overworked, struggling men. blight dif
ficulties, ordinary cares, household work
or daily labor, magnify themselves into
seemingly impassable moun ains.
This is simply because tie nerves are
weak, the bodily organs dudlitated, and
they do not
Take
proper nourishment. Feed tho nervei,
orgam and tissues on rich red blood, and
how s on '.he glow of health comes to the
pale < s * firmness to the unsteady
hand, ’ strength to the faltering limb.
Hood’s
rsaparslla
p ~ vitalizes ar.d enriches tho blood
.. 1 •...zs the best friend to unfortunate
h iT.anity. Bo sure to get Rood's and
only Hood’s. All druggists, fl; six for $5.
Insurance and Real Estate Alt.,
Merchandise Broker
And DeaUr in
The Celebrated No. 9
Weheler & Wilson
Sewing Hachines.
Needles and attachments for all
different makes of machines.
over R. A. Jones’ store.
Mood’s Pills S’ “*
f amiiy cathartic. 25c.
It’s the Talk
. > ■
. 7
Based on facts that your dollar
will buy more
Groceries
at Webster's than at any other
store in town. My stock of
Fine Candies is up-io-datc.
Yours for business.
W. M. Webster, Jr.
July ig, 1895.
A Wise Investment.
A policy of insurance in such com
panies as the .Etna, Home, Hartford,
American Fire and Pennsylvania to
protect your home and business from
loss and damage by fire is a wise in
vest ment.
I shall be glad to furnish such pro
tection at any time. Cull before in
suring.
I
o.
PROOF
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BOMAR, SIMPSON & BOSTICK,
Attorneys at Law,
| GAFFNEYi , . . S, C,
On Stoves, Heaters, Ranges, Grates, Etc., and have
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WE ARE just in receipt of letters from several foundries ad
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