CHAPTER II.

THE DUTIFUL CHILD.

JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER.

She hath caught the fair splendor,
She hath heard the low, tender,
Melodious warble at heaven's high gate,

And she says, "I am weary!

The night time is dreary;

Dear Saviour, that lov'st me, I know thou dost wait

By the River of Life, at the Beautiful Gate!"

SHE WAS HIS ONLY CHILD: BESIDES HER HE HAD NEITHER SON

THERE is a world of domestic meaning treasured up in these few words. Jephthah was a judge in Israel, and was called, in his official capacity, to lead the army against the enemies which surrounded the people on every side. On one occasion he was sent against the Ammonites, who came against him with long legions of warriors, well prepared for battle. Before the engagement, Jephthah went to God, and besought a glorious victory. He solemnly vowed before God, that

provided victory should crown him with its laurels, he would, on returning home, sacrifice whatever came forth first out of his house, as a burnt offering to the Lord. His vow was solemn, and made from an honest heart, and with an unyielding determination. It was recorded on high, and rang in the warrior's ears as he rushed into the battle. Victory was won at length, and Ammon was smitten, from Aroer unto Minnith. Flushed with victory, elated with success, decorated with the spoil of vanquished foes, the conquering judge returned to Mizpeh. As he came near, the vow, the solemn, awful vow came into his mind, and his manly heart resolved to execute it. Soon the royal residence was seen in the distance, and his soul was in haste to meet those he loved. Steadily he gazed, to see what or who should come forth first from his gates. The beast, the man servant, or the maiden was to be offered as a burnt sacrifice. While he advanced, the doors were thrown open, and the sound of music and song came pouring forth; and soon a gay and happy company rushed to welcome the returning victor, and decorate his head with flowers. But ah! who is she that leads this gay throng of maidens? whose voice is sweeter than the rest whose timbrel is more nicely tuned ? and whose bosom swells with the wildest emotion?

And what means it that the victorious chieftain stops, and rends his garment, and mourns aloud? What means it that tears of grief roll down the face so lately wreathed in smiles, and anguish fills the bosom so recently heaving with ecstatic joy? It is his daughter that has come forth to greet him, and his fatal vow falls on her. O, what to him now is victory? She is his only child; and besides her he has neither son nor daughter. She it is who has been the light of his home, who has fanned his head when weary and faint, who has sung him to sleep at night when nothing but her voice could dispel his cares, and who has made his life a scene of happiness. That home now is to become an altar on which she is to be laid as a victim, and he himself is to be the priest who shall make the sacrifice.

The daughter, who has already heard of the victory, sees that some terrible calamity has fallen on her sire, and she runs to him, winds her arms about his neck, and compels him to tell her all. With all a father's fondness he gazes down into her mild eyes, and expects to see her at once convulsed with sorrow. But he beholds no such manifestations of grief. Without a tear, without a sigh, she calmly says, "Your vow, dear father, must be fulfilled, and let the thing be done: only give me a respite of two months, and I shall be ready."

This whole scene, so affecting, so full of interest and pathos, one of our own sacred writers has woven into the thrilling melody of poetry. He takes the tender scene, and blends it into charming verse:

"Onward came

The leaden tramp of thousands. Clarion notes
Rang sharply on the ear at intervals;
And the low, mingled din of mighty hosts
Returning from the battle poured from far,
Like the deep murmur of a restless sea.
They came, as earthly conquerors always come,
With blood and splendor, revelry and woe.
The stately horse treads proudly; he hath trod
The brow of death, as well. The chariot wheels

Of warriors roll magnificently on;

Their weight hath crushed the fallen. Man is there,
Majestic, lordly man, with his sublime

And elevated brow and godlike frame,

Lifting his crest in triumph-for his heel
Hath trod the dying like a wine press down.

The mighty Jephthah led his warriors on

Through Mizpeh's streets. His helm was proudly set,
And his stern lip curled slightly, as if praise
Were for the hero's scorn. His step was firm,

But free as India's leopard; and his mail,
Whose shekels none in Israel might bear,
Was like a cedar's tassel on his frame.

His crest was Judah's kingliest; and the look

Of his dark, lofty eye, and bended brow,

Might quell the lion. He led on; but thoughts

Seemed gathering round which troubled him. The veins

Grew visible upon his swarthy brow,

And his proud lip was pressed, as if with pain..

And he had reached his home; when lo, there sprang
One with a bounding footstep, and a brow
Of light, to meet him. O, how beautiful!
Her proud eye flashing like a sun-lit gem!
And her luxuriant hair! 'twas like the sweep
Of a dark wing in visions. He stood still,
As if the sight had withered him. She threw
Her arms about his neck; he heeded not.
She called him 'Father,' but he answered not.
She stood and gazed upon him. Was he wroth?
There was no anger in that bloodshot eye.
Had sickness seized him? She unclasped his helm,
And laid her white hand gently on his brow,
And the large veins felt stiff and hard, like cords.
The touch aroused him. He raised up his hands,
And spoke the name of God, in agony.

She knew that he was stricken, then, and rushed
Again into his arms, and, with a flood

Of tears she could not bridle, sobbed a prayer
That he would breathe his agony in words.
He told her; and a momentary flush

Shot o'er her countenance; and then the soul
Of Jephthah's daughter wakened; and she stood
Calmly and nobly up, and said 'twas well,
And she would die."

Some have questioned whether Jephthah's daughter was really put to death. The conclusion is so awful that they have shrunk from it, and have assumed that the

vow was evaded in They have argued admit of human sac

some way unknown to us. that the Jewish law did not rifices, and that certain allusions in the sacred narrative indicate that the maiden was put to trial in another way, but was allowed to escape with