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 some way unknown to us. They have argued that the Jewish law did not admit of human sacrifices, 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

her life. But though this is the merciful view of the case, it does not seem to be warranted by Scripture. The days in which the transactions occurred were dark and clouded. Israel was surrounded by nations of idolaters, with whom human sacrifices were common; and doubtless Jephthah had caught some of the rude and barbarous notions of those with whom he had mingled. Uniting the superstitions of idolatry with the lofty integrity of Hebrew faith, he had made a terrible vow, which he considered himself bound fully to execute. Let loose from his hand, his daughter wandered upon the mountains, bewailing her fate, and preparing herself for her sad sacrifice. When the time had expired, she returned to her father, who did unto her according to his vow; and the Scripture record is, " the daughters of Israel went yearly to lament the daughter of Jephthah, the Gileadite, four days in a year."

But what improvement shall we make of this beautiful case, this striking illustration of devotion? Our condemnation of the father, who pursued a course entirely inconsistent with the spirit of true religion, is lost in our admiration of the maiden who gave herself up a victim to a vow which her sire had made, and over which she had no control.

The first thing that strikes the mind is the

ready obedience of the daughter. She did not hesitate to give herself up to the hard fate to which she was doomed, but when the hour came was prepared for it. Obedience to parents is not always so readily yielded, especially in the times in which we live. These days are emphatically days of disobedience and disregard of parental restraint, and not a few of the children of the most pious and devoted parents openly trample the restraints of home, the counsels of affection, and the law of God beneath their feet. No crime is more severely condemned in the Bible than this irreverence for parents; and no virtue is more frequently applauded than the opposite trait of character. "What state of society," asks one, "can be blind to the meaning of the imprecation which was pronounced at the entrance into the promised land, and joined in the same doom the idolater and him who should set light by his father and mother'? What philosophy can gainsay the sage of the book of Proverbs, whose sententious moralizing rises into prophetic grandeur as he speaks of the unnatural son?" The eye that mocketh at his father, or refuseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it." Who needs any interpretation of the feelings of David, or Joseph, or Solomon, in their joy or trial? How

heart-rending was the grief of the Psalmist over his recreant son: 'Would to God I had died for thee, my son, my son!' What beauty, as well as simplicity, in the inquiry of Joseph for his father, when the prime minister of Egypt dismissed his courtly train, and weeping aloud, could only ask, 'Doth my father yet live?' What grandeur-far above its gold and gems-surrounded the throne of Solomon, when he rose to meet his mother, and called her to a seat at his right hand! And the king said unto her, Ask on, my mother, for I will not say thee nay.' What pathos and sublimity in the Saviour of men, when, embracing home and heaven in his parting words on the cross, he commended his spirit to the eternal Father, and intrusted his mother to the beloved disciple's care! We need no more than this to show how the gospel glorifies the law, and crowns its morality and piety alike in perfect love: 'Woman, behold thy son,' 'Disciple, behold thy mother.' Hear the amen that goes from Calvary to Sinai, and honor thy father and thy mother."

And yet it must be confessed that the parents of our times fail so to live as to draw out the regard, affection, and respect of their children. The great law of God concerning family government is disregarded, the provisions of infinite wis

dom for the good of the people are not complied with, and children grow up unrestrained. The universal condemnation of children for a want of reverence and respect for parents should at least be shared by parents, who let their children grow up without sound, serious advice, and wholesome and salutary restraints. Many parents, who mean well, are frightened from the path of duty by the foolish cry of "over-severity," raised by impracticable philanthropists and half-crazy religionists. No greater mistake was ever made than to suppose a child is harmed by being restrained within proper limits. It is folly to imagine that evil will come from restraints and just discipline. The mistake is only made by those who deny to children even innocent recreation and wholesome pleasure, of which there are enough in the world. The parent who goes beyond this is wronging the child; indulgence and parental fondness become a sin when they allow a child to walk amid pitfalls and dangers. Such indulgence is a weakness which will ruin the child, which will involve the parent in disgrace, which will defeat the end of the parental relation, and which will be punished by the Almighty, as a sin against himself.

"It is a mistake," says one who has well studied this subject, "to suppose that children love their parents less who maintain a proper authority over