<h2 class="label">CHAPTER X.</h2>
<h2 class="main">JACOB IN THE PRESENCE OF PHARAOH.</h2>
<p class="xd31e254"><span class="xd31e254init">W</span>e have seen that the son stood before kings, and the father is now to do the same.
If we have beheld not a little in former scenes to commend Joseph to our love, we
are here to see yet more. As soon as he met his father, he communicated his purpose
to apply to Pharaoh to sanction the sojourn of the patriarch and his tribe in Egypt.
This was easily arranged; and at the close of the proceedings, Joseph “brought in
Jacob his father, and set him before Pharaoh: and Jacob blessed Pharaoh”. When this was accomplished, we can suppose that the highest wishes of one so affectionate
as Joseph were gratified. For about seventeen years his parent lived to bless him
with his company and his counsel; and though we have not many details of their intercourse
during that period, we may easily imagine that the tenderness of those seventeen years
largely compensated for the long and violent separation which had kept the father
and the son so far apart, and even made them the citizens of different kingdoms.</p>
<p>But we may notice here, in passing, the question of Pharaoh, and the answer of Jacob,
at their interview. “How old art thou?” was the monarch’s inquiry; and Jacob’s reply
was a picture in words of the weary life of man: “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, and have not attained unto the days of the years
of the life of my fathers, in the days of their pilgrimage”. <i>Few and evil!</i> Behold the history of a life whose days were protracted even beyond the ordinary
span! Few and evil, because man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward. Few and
evil, because it is written, “Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” Few
and evil, because, in this special case, there had been more than common grief endured,
where those who should have been a solace or a stay were transformed by sin into causes
of anguish, first to their aged parent, and at last also to themselves.</p>
<p>And how sad must the reply of Jacob have sounded in the ears of the king! It rarely
happens that monarchs are permitted to hear unpleasant truths. Everything around them seems to proclaim or to whisper that to-morrow will be as to-day; or if
different, only more joyous and more thoughtless still! For once, however, the hoary-headed
patriarch tells the monarch the truth, and indirectly reminds him, Thou, too, must
die. There was another king, the King of Terrors, mightier than Pharaoh, and slowly
approaching to lay him in the dust.</p>
<p>And perhaps there is nothing in all the history or the life of man which shows more
clearly the effects of sin, or the ruin of the fall, than his wilful ignorance, or
at least his want of feeling, on the great subject of his mortality. Of no truth is
it possible for man to be more convinced than this—<i>I must die</i>. It is not so absolutely certain that the sun will rise on any given day, as that
man may die any moment or any breath. Yet who is moved by that conviction to prepare
for dying? Who is stirred up by all the funerals which he sees, or all the open graves
which he visits, to prepare for meeting God? Not one. It is not that kind of influence:
it is the grace and the Spirit of God that make man wise to consider his latter end.
For example, the plaintive sentiment, “Few and evil,” uttered by the patriarch, most
probably passed through the monarch’s mind like water through a sieve. A sigh, or
a wish, or a hope, perhaps, and all was over! The thought was dashed aside as an unwelcome
intruder amid the gorgeous scenes of a palace. And if that was the case, Pharaoh was
only a specimen of the universal race of man. The fleeting nature of life is forgotten
amid its cares, its engrossments, and trifles. But happy they whom the Spirit of God
makes wise in this and other respects! Happy they who cling, as Jacob did, to Him who is the life, and over whom death has no power for ever!</p>
<p>In the African desert there is a bird, known as the honey-guide, which often conducts
the traveller to some hive, whose sweet stores form a staple article of food in those
dreary parts. By a peculiar instinct, provision is thus made to supply the wayfarer’s
wants; or, in some cases, to rescue him from death. Now God has yet more wisely and
surely provided for our escape from the second death, if we listen to the warnings
of his Word or the guidance of his Spirit; and happy are they who are thus guided!
They are led to a portion sweeter far than honey from the honey-comb. The few and
weary days of our earthly pilgrimage then conduct us to the house of the Lord—the
city of the Great King—the abode to which the palace of Pharaoh was as a dungeon or
a cell.
</p>
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