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with all the circumstances, as I find them in our sacred authors. Nobody ought to think it an incredible thing, that a people which lived in the innocence and simplicity of the first ages, might have found a way through the sea to save themselves. Whether it was that the sea itself opened it for them, or whether it was done by the will of God: since the same thing happened long after to the Macedonians, when they passed through the sea of Pamphylia, under the conduct of Alexander, when God thought fit to make use of that people for the destruction of the Persian empire, as it is affirmed by all the historians who have written the life of that Prince. However, I leave all men to judge of this matter as they think fit." Thus far Josephus.*

of a certain doctrine. What so natural and | Israel, Josephus, first started this objection. common, for example, as to see the sun shi- These are his words; "this," speaking of ning one moment in full, and unobsructed the passage of the Red Sea, "I have related glory, and the next darkened and concealed by clouds? But if a person publishing a new doctrine as divine, should undertake to prove his mission by changing the appearance of the bright orb of day, at his pleasure, and by showing him either in unclouded majesty, or eclipsed and shorn of his beams, according as he gave the word; and should we behold this very ordinary natural phenomenon actually and uniformly obeying the mandate, would not such an event, however natural in itself, become preternatural and miraculous from its circumstances? Thus, there might be occasion for the influence of the wind, to favour and facilitate the passage of Israel. But, how was it possible for their leader, by mere human sagacity, to discover that a wind from such a quarter, springing up exactly at such an hour, should harden the bottom of the deep? But, supposing the philosophy of Moses sufficiently accurate to assure him, that at such a time he might in safety march over his cumbersome retinue; could it inform him also that Pharaoh and his captains would certainly be mad enough to follow him through that dangerous route? Could it assure him that the rashness of the tyrant, and the law which regulated the flowing of the sea, would exactly keep time, so as effectually to produce the destruction of his whole army? The flux and reflux of the tide were known to Moses; but, was it entirely unknown to the Egyptians? What, in so great an army, led by the sovereign in person, in a land renown-Neither your time nor patience admitting of ed for natural knowledge, was there no man astronomer enough to know, that the difference of a few hours is every thing in a case of this sort; that to be in such a spot, at such a time, was inevitable destruction? Incredible! impossible!

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The other instances which some presume to be put in competition with this, are the approach of Scipio with his army to the attack of New Carthage, by means of an extraordinary ebb at the change of the moon, recorded by Livy; a similar ebb of the river Euphrates, related by Plutarch, in his life of Lucullus; and, a flood altogether as singular, upon the coast of Holland, in the year 1672: which kept up for twelve whole hours, and was apparently the means of preserving that republic from the consequences of a joint attack of the fleets of England and France. It is handed down to us in the life of the famous admiral De Ruyter, who had the command of the Dutch squadron at that time.

an inquiry into the truth of these several facts, we satisfy ourselves with observing, that admitting them to be true, not one of them is any way worthy to be compared with the Mosaic account of the passage across the Red Sea. The pointed and particular preFinally, it is altogether inconceivable that diction of Moses; the rod employed, and the space of three or four hours, the utmost instantaneousness of the effect; the facility that an ebb merely natural could have and speed of the passage; the rashness of afforded them, was sufficient for the tran- the Egyptians; their tragical end; every sition of such an astonishing multitude as thing in short concurs to render this an unthat which Moses conducted. The learn-paralleled event. And nothing but an imed Calmet has so fully demonstrated this moderate desire of depreciating the miracles point,* as to enforce the conclusion, that no of the sacred history, could have attempted degree of human knowledge could have dis- to diminish this celebrated transit into a comclosed to Moses a foresight of the events parison with any of the other events which which proved so propitious to him. Not there-are alluded to. fore to the superiority of genius, but to a power divine, the praise is to be ascribed. And to the same principle we must recur in order to explain the mighty difference which Providence puts between the Israelites and the Egyptians, in the midst of the Red Sea.

Attempts have been made to debase the dignity of this great event, by reducing it to the level of similar appearances recorded by profane historians. That degenerate son of * Dissert, sur le Passage de la Mer Rouge.

The third objection is, to the truth of the history; pretended to be taken from the history itself. The time allotted by Moses, by his own account, for the congregation, consisting of so many myriads, to pass over, is considered by the objectors as much too short for the purpose. But in order to support it, they are obliged to go into uncertain, fanciful, and unsupported conjectures, about the breadth of the Red Sea at the place where

*Antiq. Jud. lib, ii, cap. vii. Lib. xxvi. cap. xlv

the passage was opened. They make the individual is overlooked and lost in the gebreadth of that passage just what it suits neral. No; every thing here is peculiar and their own arbitrary conjecture and calcula-personal. Every Israelite for himself reflects tion. They must needs constrain a great with joy on his own chains now forever bromultitude, in very peculiar circumstances, ken in pieces. He seems to exult over his unaccustomed to discipline, stimulated by own tyrant-master now subdued under him, fear, and borne on the wings of hope, to and hails his personal liberty now effectually move with the leisure and deliberation of a secured. For it is natural to the heart of regular army. They will not deign to man, in extreme danger, to refer every thing acknowledge the power and grace of the to himself, and to consider himself as all in Most High in every part of the transaction. all. "The horse and his rider hath he thrown They overlook the description given of that into the sea:" for the same reason the horse people, Psalm cv. 37, as a people full of is much more forcible than horses would have strength and vigour, and "not one sickly been; it marks strongly the suddenness, the among them." They forget what God him-universality, the completeness of the destrucself soon after says of them, "You have seen what I did unto the Egyptians, and how I bare you on eagle's wings, and brought you unto myself." We conclude, that as the case taken all together was singular, unprecedented, and followed by nothing like it; so the particular circumstances of it are likewise singular and unexampled, and will, with every candid person, bear out Moses, the sacred historian, against the charge of being inconsistent with himself.

tion. The Egyptian cavalry, numerous, formidable, covering the face of the ground, is represented in a moment, by a single effort, at one blow, overthrown, overwhelmed, as if they had been but one horse and one rider.

Verse 2. "JEHOVAH is my strength and song, and he is become my salvation: he is my God, and I will prepare him an habitation; my father's God, and I will exalt him." Is it lawful to say that the poet employs the most exquisite art, in representing this great deliverance, in every part and every view of it, as the work of JEHOVAH: the great "I AM THAT I AM :" that name of GOD, by which he chose to be known to Israel through the whole of those memorable transactions? my strength, that is, the source or cause of my strength and it points out the great God as the courage and force of Israel, without the necessity of their exerting any of their own.

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My song," that is, the subject of it. No instrument divides the praise with him. No power, no wisdom is employed but his own. He planned, arranged, executed every thing by himself. "HE is become my salvation." The fine writers of Greece or Rome would probably have said, "He hath saved me.' But Moses says much more; the Lord hath undertaken himself to work deliverance for me: he hath made my salvation his own, his personal concern, and is become to me every thing I can want.

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We proceed to the second object which we proposed, namely, to point out a few of the more striking beauties of the sacred song, which was composed and sung in grateful acknowledgment of that great deliverance which we have been contemplating. What will undoubtedly give it a high value in the estimation of many is, that it is the most ancient morsel of poetry which the world is in possession of: being three thousand three hundred and thirty-seven years old, that is, six hundred and forty-seven years before Homer, the most ancient and the best of heathen bards, lived or sung. But its antiquity is its slightest excellency. The general turn of it is great, the thoughts nobly simple, the style sublime, the expression strong, the pathos sweet, the figures natural and bold. It abounds throughout with images which at once strike, warm, astonish, and delight. The occasion of it you well know. The poet's view is to in- "He is MY GOD." Every word is emphadulge himself in transports of joy, admiration,tical. "He," in opposition to the gods of and gratitude, and to inspire the people with Egypt, which cannot hear, nor see, nor save. the same sentiments. Accordingly he thus". "My God:" all-attentive to my interest and impetuously breaks out, safety, as if he had no creature but me to care Verse 1. "I will sing unto the Lord, for for: and therefore my God: for I acknowledge he hath triumphed gloriously: the horse and not, I never will acknowledge, any other. his rider hath he thrown into the sea." Here" My father's God.” This repetition is most the tremendous majesty of God the deliverer, beautifully tender and pathetic. He whose and the lively gratitude of the people saved, greatness I adore, is not a strange God, unthe leading object of the piece, are placed instantly and powerfully in sight; and they are never dropt for one moment, to the end. I, in the singular number, is much more energetic and affecting than we in the plural would have been. The triumph of Israel over the Egyptians did not resemble the usual triumphs of nation over nation; where the

known till now; a protector for a moment. No, he is the ancient patron of my family, his goodness is from generation to generation. I have a thousand domestic proofs of his constant, undiminished affection; and he is now making good to me only that which he solemnly promised to my forefathers. And how has he effected this?

"The LORD is a man of war." An ordinary writer would probably have represented the Almighty here as the God of armies and as such discomfiting the host of Pharaoh. But Moses does more; he brings him forth as a champion, a soldier; puts the sword into his hand, and exhibits him fighting his battles, the battles of Israel.

The fourth and fifth verses contain a very fine display and amplification of the simple idea suggested in the first, "the horse and his rider."

"Pharaoh's chariots and his host hath he cast into the sea: his chosen captains are also drowned in the Red Sea, the depths have covered them, they sank into the bottom as a stone." Image rises and swells above image. Pharaoh's chariots, his hosts, his chosen captains-cast into the sea, drowned in the Red Sea-covered with the depths, sunk to the bottom, at once, as a stone. Notwithstanding their pride and insolence, they can make no more resistance to the power of Jehovah, than a stone launched from the arm of a strong man into the flood.

Every writer but a Moses must have stopped short here; or flattened his subject, by repeating or extending the same ideas. But the seraphic poet, upborne by an imagination which overleaps the boundaries of the world, and an enthusiasm which cannot rest in any creature, springs up to the Creator himself, in these rapturous strains.

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Thy right hand, O Lord, is become glorious in thy power: thy right hand, O Lord, hath dashed in pieces the enemy. In the greatness of thine excellency thou hast overthrown them that rose up against thee."

When the heart is full of an object, it turns it round, as it were on every side, returns to it again and again; never tires in contemplating it, till admiration is lost in astonishment.-Moses after this effusion of joy and praise returns again to the matter of fact: but not in the language of mere description, as in the 4th verse; but in a continuation of his bold animated address to God himself; which gives it a life and fervour superior to any thing human. As if the strength of one element had not been sufficient to destroy God's enemies, every element lends its aid. The deep opens its mouth, the fire consumes, the wind rages; all nature is up in arms, to avenge the quarrel of an incensed God. The poet ennobles the wind, by making God the principle of it; and animates the fire, by making it susceptible of fear. In the same style of address to God, he throws himself as it were into the person and character of the enemy, previous to their defeat, and pours forth their sentiments of threatening and slaughter; the more strong'y to mark their disappointment, by contrastmg the folly and impotence of man, with the power and justice of God. "The enemy

said, I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil: my lust shall be satisfied upon them; I will draw my sword, my hand shall destroy them.". You see here ven geance hastening to its object, regardless of opposition. The words, unconnected with a conjunction, seem to hurry on like the passion that prompts to them. And in what does it issue?" Thou didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered them." And the picture is finished with this happy stroke, "They sank as lead in the mighty waters." But I feel I have undertaken a task far beyond my ability, and the limits of your time. And therefore break off with another borrowed remark, namely, that whatever grandeur and magnificence we may discover in this song, as it stands in such a place and connexion, its beauty and force must greatly rise upon us, were we permitted to penetrate through the mysterious sense concealed behind the veil of this great event. For it is certain, that this deliverance from Egypt covers and represents salvation of a superior and more extensive nature. The Apostle of the Gentiles teaches us to consider it as a type of that freedom which the christian obtains by the waters of baptism and the renew. ing of the Holy Ghost, from the yoke of the prince of this world. And the prophet, in the book of Revelation, makes it to shadow forth the final and great deliverance of the redeemed, by introducing the assembly of those who overcome the beast, holding the harps of God in their hands, and singing "the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb, saying, Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints! Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name? For thou only art holy; for all nations shall come and worship before thee; for thy judgments are made manifest."* Now, as the scriptures declare that the wonders of this second deliverance shall infinitely surpass the first, and shall entirely obliterate the remembrance of it; we may easily believe that the beauties of the spiritual sense of this divine poem may totally eclipse those of the historical.

Having endeavoured imperfectly to unfold some of the excellencies of this ancient sacred composition, I should proceed, as I proposed, to point out the delicacy of attempting, and the difficulty of succeeding, in imitating or extending devotional poetry; but your time and patience, perhaps, will be better employed in hearing me read to you a short passage, containing the sentiments of an excellent modern critic on the subject, with which I shall conclude this exercise.

"It has been the frequent lamentation of good men, that verse has been too little applied to the purposes of worship; and many

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attempts have been made to animate devotion by pious poetry. That they have very seldom attained their end is sufficiently known; and it may not be improper to inquire why they have miscarried.

"Let no pious ear be offended, if I advance, in opposition to many authorities, that poetical devotion cannot often please. The doctrines of religion may, indeed, be defended in a didactic poem; and he who has the appy power of arguing in verse, will not ose it because his subject is sacred. A poet may describe the beauty and grandeur of nature, the flowers of spring, and the harvests of autumn, the vicissitudes of the tide, and the revolutions of the sky, and praise the Maker for his works, in lines which no reader shall lay aside. The subject of the disputation is not piety, but the motives to piety; that of the description is not God, but the works of God.

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Contemplative piety, or the intercourse between God and the human soul, cannot be poetical. Man admitted to implore the mercy of his Creator, and plead the merits of his Redeemer, is already in a higher state than poetry can confer.

"The essence of poetry is invention; such invention as, by producing something unexpected, surprises and delights. The topics of devotion are few, and being few are universally known; but few as they are, they can be made no more; they can receive no grace from novelty of sentiment, and very little from novelty of expression.

"Poetry pleases by exhibiting an idea more grateful to the mind than things themselves afford. This effect proceeds from the display of those parts of nature which attract, and the concealment of those which repel the imagination; but religion must be shown

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as it is; suppression and addition equally corrupt it; and such as it is, it is known already.

"From poetry the reader justly expects, and from good poetry always obtains, the enlargement of his comprehension, and elevation of his fancy; but this is rarely to be hoped for by dristians from metrical devotion. Whatever is great, desirable, or tremendous, is comprised in the name of the Supreme Being. Omnipotence cannot be exalted; infinity cannot be amplified; perfection cannot be improved.

"The employments of pious meditation are faith, thanksgiving, repentance, and supplication. Faith, invariably uniform, cannot be invested by fancy with decorations.Thanksgiving, the most joyful of all holy effusions, yet addressed to a being without passions, is confined to a few modes, and is to be felt rather than expressed. Repentance trembling in the presence of the judge, is not at leisure for cadences and epithets. Supplication of man to man may diffuse itself through many topics of persuasion, but supplication to God can only cry for

mercy.

"Öf sentiments purely religious, it will be found that the most simple expression is the most sublime. Poetry loses its lustre and its power, because it is applied to the decoration of something more excellent than itself All that verse can do is to help the memory and delight the ear; and for these purposes it may be very useful; but it supplies nothing to the mind. The ideas of christian theology are too simple for eloquence, too sacred for fiction, and too majestic for ornament; to recommend them by tropes and figures, is to magnify by a concave mirror the sideral hemisphere."

HISTORY OF MOSES.

LECTURE XLVIII.

And when they came to Marah, they could not drink of the waters of Marah; for they were bitter: therefore the name of it was called Marah. And the people murmured against Moses, saying, What shall we drink? And he cried unto the Lord; and the Lord showed him a tree, which when he had cast into the waters, the waters were made sweet: there he made for them a statute and an ordinance, and there he proved them, and said, If thou wilt diligently hearken to the voice of the Lord thy God, and wilt do that which is right in his sight, and wilt give ear to his commandments, and keep all his statutes, I will put none of these diseases upon thee which I have brought upon the Egyptians: for I am the Lord that healeth thee. And they came to Elim, where were twelve wells of water, and threescore and ten palm-trees; and they encamped there by the waters. -EXODUS IV. 23-27.

UNLESS the mind be under the regulating | gerous speed, through the impulse of desire, power of religion, it will be perpetually ambition, or revenge; at another it is chilled osing its balance, and changing its tenor: at into languor and inaction, through fear, desne time accelerated into indecent and dan- spondency, and disappointment. We shall

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The words were adapted to the occasion, the music to the words, the performers to the music. There Moses, leading the bolder, rougher notes of manly voices; here Miriam, the prophetess, his sister, in sweet accord, blending the softer harmony of female strains with the notes of the timbrel, in praise of their great Deliverer. Never surely did such music strike the vault of heaven, and never shall again, "till the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs, and everlasting joy upon their heads; when they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away:"* never, till the song of Moses be closed with the song of the Lamb.

behold the same person now believing things over! Every thing was suited to another incredible, and attempting things impracticable; and anon staggering at the shadow of a doubt, and shrinking from the slightest appearance of difficulty and danger. Insolent, fierce, and overbearing in prosperity, the unsteady creature becomes grovelling, dispirited, and mean in adversity. "It is a good thing," therefore, "that the heart be established by grace:" grace, that calm, steady, uniform principle, which veers not with every wind of doctrine; rises not, nor falls, like the mercury in the tube, with every variation of the atmosphere, according to the alternate transition of disappointment and success, censure and applause, health and sickness, youth and age. In the day of prosperity, religion saith to the soul where it dwells, "Rejoice," and in the day of adversity, "Consider;" for a wise and a merciful God hath set the one over against the other. This divine principle corrects immoderate joy, saying to the happy, "Be not high minded, but fear;" it consoles and supports the miserable, by breathing the sweet assurance, that the "light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."*

The want of this balance of the soul, and the dangerous consequences of that want, are strikingly exemplified in the history of the chosen people, whom Providence, by a series of miracles, undertook to conduct from Egypt to Canaan. Elated or depressed by the aspect of the moment, we find them haughty in the hour of victory, and sunk into despair, by a defeat. The deepness of the waters of the Red Sea, and their miraculous separation, afford matter of triumph to-day; the bitterness of the waters of Marah causes universal discontent and dejection to-morrow. But alas! we need not recur to distant periods of history for an example of the ruinous effects produced by a destitution of religious principle, and of the fatal power of unbelief. The history of every man's own experience is illustration sufficient. To what must we ascribe the envy, jealousy, rage, pride, resentment, timidity, diffidence, and dejection, which successively and unremittingly agitate the human mind? Men walk by sight, not by faith. They feel the powers of the world that is, and are insensible of that which is to come. They look at "things temporal," and neglect those which "are unseen and eternal." They stand in awe of the creature, and despise the Creator. While then we discover, deplore, and condemn a selfish, a perverse, and discontented spirit, and an unbelieving heart in others, let us study, by the grace of God, to reform the same or like dispositions in ourselves.

What a magnificent concert filled the nores of the Red Sea, after Israel was passed

2 Cor. iv. 17.

At length they quit the scene of their terror and of their triumph; for the world admits not of a long continuance of either; and they advance three days' march into the wilderness. Escaped effectually and forever from the oppression of Egypt, no more opposed in front by an unsurmountable barrier, nor hemmed in on either side by impassable mountains, nor pursued by a numerous and well disciplined army; but the sea, once their hindrance, now their defence; every foe subdued, and the road to Canaan straight before them, what can now give disturbance? On how many circumstances does life and the comfort of it depend! The failure or disagreeable quality of one ingredient corrupts and destroys the whole. In Shur they found no water; in Marah they find water, but it is bitter. The unavoidable condition of a wilderness state! Always too little, or too much! Here there are children and penury; there affluence and sterility. This year there is drought parching and consuming every plant of the field; the next, an overflowing flood sweeping every thing before it; and unhappy mortals are eternally augmenting the necessary and unavoidable evils of human life, by peevishness and discontent.

Oblige an ungrateful person ever so often, and disappoint or oppose him once, and lo, the memory of a thousand benefits is instantly lost. All that Moses, all that God has done for Israel is forgotten, the moment that a scarcity of water is felt. For it is with this spirit as with that of ambition: nothing is attained in the eye of ambition, while there is yet one thing to be attained. All the favour of Ahasuerus avails Haman nothing, while Mordecai the Jew sits in the king's gate. So ingratitude says nothing is granted, while one thing is denied me. One scanty meal in Shur, or one unpalatable beverage at Marah, has obliterated all remembrance of the recent wonders of Egypt, and the more recent miracles of the Red Sea. And as one evil quality is ever found in company with its fellows, we here find ingratitude and iw

* Isai. xxxv. 10

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