not save them from hunger and want. They had called their village "the house of bread," but the title now seemed a mockery. The remarkable fertility of their fields had gained for the cultivators the name of Ephratites, or "the fruitful ones;" but a fruitful land was now turned to barrenness, and he that bindeth sheaves could not fill his bosom. Among these families the household of Elimelech suffered greatly. So much so, it is said, as to oblige him deeply to mortgage his patrimony, abandon the land of Canaan, and seek a temporary asylum in the territories of Moab. These lying on the other side of the Jordan seemed to offer a suitable residence. He did not contemplate a permanent abode among the Moabites, but hoped to return whenever more peaceful tidings should reach him from his native land. Elimelech had been a happy man. At any rate he was happy in his wife. Her amiableness and piety were well known throughout the village, and every one thought that her name, Naomi, or "My pleasant one," was well chosen. Doubtless, her husband thought so too. Yet we have reason to believe that he had never expected unvarying happiness. And like him we, who know that man is born to trouble, ought always to be prepared for our inheritance, not investing coming years with imaginary gloom, but so living and so acting that when the hour of distress arrives, we may feel no strange thing hath happened to us. Trouble was hard at hand for the family of Ephratah, yet not perhaps the trouble they had anticipated. It would not do for us to know all the future. The prospect might be too saddening. Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. The trouble which Elimelech had not foreseen was that of a general famine. Unable to obtain proper supplies of food from his wasted fields and destroyed granaries, he was forced to break up his little establishment, and leaving, as we conjecture, his property in the hands of the mortgagee, was compelled to emigrate beyond the Jordan. The Alas! trouble reaches everywhere. Jerusalem is visited by the spoilers, and the obscure village groans under the invader's tramp. The palace and the cottage are linked by the common bond of grief. rich and the poor meet together here. Sorrow, like death, is a great leveller. Affliction soon "makes the world akin." You cannot keep trouble away when it is commissioned to visit your home or your heart. You may draw bolt and affix bar against all other depredators, but this arch robber batters down your defences, and soon takes away your goods of joy and peace, in which you trusted. Your detector locks will not only show that trouble has tampered with the wards, but also that he has actually found a way of opening them. Nothing is "unpickable" to his touch. Do I say, Alas! when I think of this? Is it not rather well that trouble should come? Not pleasant, but salutary. Are these not wise lessons for Elimelech's family to learn-and other families too-which can only be learned in the school of affliction? Are there no "peaceable fruits of righteousness to be yielded by the very famine which destroys the "staff of bread"? Shall the hasty flight from Bethlehem to Moab be an useless journey? A Christian will know how to answer such questions. And he has this strong consolation in his troubles, that his name also is Elimelech, that is, "The Lord is my King." He who ruleth over all, God blessed for ever, rules over a believer's life, notes its minutest events, and directs its smallest goings, making all things work together for his good. "My times are in His hand"-this is enough to constitute the believer's stay. There was abundance of provisions in the land of Moab. The idolaters had enough and to spare, when the Lord's people were perishing with want. At the present day there are manifest and abundant signs of the ancient luxuriance of Moab. Irby and Mangles say, "The whole of the plains are covered with the sites of towns on every eminence or spot convenient for the construction of one; and as the land is capa ble of rich cultivation there can be no doubt that the country, now so deserted, once presented a continued picture of plenty and fertility. The form of fields is still visible, and there are remains of Roman highways, which are in some places completely paved, and on which there are mile-stones of the times of Trajan, Marcus Aurelius, and Severus, with the numbers of the miles legible upon them. Wherever any spot is cultivated the corn is luxuriant; and the frequency, and almost, in many instances, the close vicinity of the sites of ancient towns, prove that the population of the country was formerly proportioned to its fertility." Elimelech may have felt the contrast between the famine of Ephratah and the abundance of Moab. He may have been perplexed, as the Psalmist was, by the prosperity of the wicked-those ungodly ones, who were not in trouble like other men, and who had no bands in their death. And in this perplexity he has had many companions. The family of God pinched and starved, glad of falling crumbs-the enemies of God arrayed in festive purple, and faring sumptuously every day! The anomaly provokes strange and uncomfortable surmises. Why is Moab to be "at ease from his youth," while Israel is "emptied from vessel to vessel"? Jer. xlviii. 11. There is no real anomaly, however. In the sanctuary we learn that the seeming incongruity is but the working of a great and important law. This law is, that the ungodly having no good things in a future world, should have their portion in this life; and that the godly, having treasures laid up in heaven, should be content to suffer privations here. When others are tormented, they will be comforted. Envy not then the sacrifices of Baal Peor. Let the inhabitants of Moab continue to worship the black star of Chemosh, but fret not thyself in anywise to do evil, by murmuring at their prosperity, or by coveting their harvests. The idolaters will last but for a season, while they who do the will of God shall abide for ever. The actual history of the two localities literally verifies the truth of this. Bethlehem is now a large and prosperous village. Moab-why it was in its state of highest prosperity that prophets foretold how its cities should become desolate, without any to dwell in them; and accordingly we find, that although the sites, ruins and names of many ancient cities of Moab can be traced, not one of them exists at the present day as tenanted by man. But it has been questioned whether Elimelech were justified in removing his family to Moab. By so doing he mixed himself up with the worshippers of false gods, and his righteous soul could scarcely fail to be vexed with the conversation of the wicked. Besides, he exposed his sons to all the dangers of idolatrous friendship. Therefore, it has been argued, that he was unduly careful and too easily discontented with trouble which fell equally upon his neighbours as upon himself, and should have been patiently borne by him. Sagacious Matthew Henry inclines to this view: "If he could not be content with the short allowance that his neighbours took up with, and in the day of famine could not be satisfied unless he kept as plentiful a table as he had done formerly; if he could not live in hope that there would come years of plenty again in due time, or could not with patience wait for those years, it was his fault, and he did by it dishonour God, and the good land He had given them, weaken the hands of his brethren with whom he should have He used generally to stand for hours on the shore with his face turned thoughtfully towards the English coast. And when he saw the birds in their unfettered flight, winging their way across the sea, he wished that he could soar with them, and reach, as they could reach, the white cliffs of Dover. And when the waves rose high in the fury of a tempest, he thought how gladly he could keep the midnight watch in some English vessel, even amidst the perils of the deep, if that vessel were but trying to make an English port. At last, when care had banished sleep, He saw, one morning, dreaming, doting, Come shoreward floating. A strange smile crossed his countenance—a smile in which despair, hope, and triumph, mysteriously blended. He rushed into the surf, heedless of a wetting, and dragged the tub on shore. Then, with some difficulty, he managed to get it across the beach to a cave, which was near. Fortunately, it was an unfrequented part of the shore, and no one witnessed the exploit. Day after day he went to this cave, and by dint of extraordinary labour, he fashioned this empty barrel into something like a boat, interlacing it with willows from the neighbouring woods. He hoped by means of it to escape from his captivity. But, dear me! 'twas a thing beyond Description! Such a wretched wherry Or crossed a ferry. For ploughing on the salt sea-field, "Twould make the very boldest shudder, Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled, No sail, no rudder! |