'the fruit of the earth shall then be excellent and comely.' Looking at the earthly temple as figurative of the heavenly, we hence understand why palm trees, opening flowers (opening to the day), knops of flowers, and pomegranates were the decorations of it; and why a pomegranate should have been placed between each of the bells, in the hem of the garment of the high priest; those bells which gave forth the joyful sound,' as he was heard entering the holy place.

In these few references to one class of the hieroglyphics, by which the hope of the promise was illustrated to the Old Testament worshippers, we have just a few of the inexhaustible store of proofs, which might be adduced from the Scriptures, that the language which God gave for perpetuating the memory of his covenant, and for keeping alive the hope of the promise, was, at the first, so connected with the natural objects with which creation was stored, as to fit them for aiding and illustrating each other in the most important, the most heavenly purpose, to which they could be applied.

CHAPTER XV.

THE DOUBLE.

It is very generally thought that, although the Jews and other ancient nations had the hope and expectation of a Messiah, and of many blessings that were to attend his advent-yet that their ideas with regard to the nature of these blessings, in particular in respect to the hope of eternal life, through Him, were of a very vague and indeterminate nature.

Of all the mistakes respecting the opinions of those who 'saw the promises afar off, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth'—this is the most melancholy and the most absurd. We trust it is scarcely necessary to enter on a systematic proof of the absurdity of it, to those who have given due consideration to the subjects we have already had under investigation. But as we have, particularly in the two preceding chapters, directed attention to the existence and copious use of figures indicating the hope of a bright and a glorious period, rather than to the time and mode of its fulfilment, it may not be unacceptable to trace these more closely. We do so the more readily, as the enquiry will lead to the

consideration of another metaphor, borrowed from a phenomenon in nature, frequently used in the Old Testament, which is as beautiful as it is conclusive, respecting the nature of the ancient hope of the Scriptures.

The first circumstance which must arrest the attention of every impartial enquirer into this matter is, the persuasion, nay, the certainty, which seemed in the minds of those who lived 'by faith,' that the glorious things hoped for, and looked forward to, were not to be fulfilled to them in this life. Abraham never could have expected to live to see his seed as the sand which is by the sea shore innumerable.' Joseph said, 'I die, but God shall surely visit you.' David, on his death bed, was as full of the expectation respecting 'his Son and Lord' as he was in his youth. Can the most prejudiced reader of the histories of these men seriously believe that they took so much interest in a matter in which they were not personally to share?

Did we know nothing more, then, of their faith and hope, than that it respected something to be accomplished after they were in their graves, we have sufficient evidence that they knew the promises in Christ to have an aspect beyond death and the grave.

But, it may be said, that the passages we have alluded to, in their histories, and in their sayings, merely indicate that they knew of the immortality of the soul, and that we may suppose, from these passages, although it is little more than supposition, that they had some faint ideas respecting a world of

spirits—a heaven, to which their souls would go, and where the trials of this life would be compensated for by eternal happiness.

We appeal to the understanding of men, whether all their acts do not, much more distinctly, indicate a hope of something future. If they merely had some vague ideas about the immortality of the soul, in what respect could a distant event, to be transacted on this earth, have been of so much interest to them? Their whole conduct manifested an expectation of having a participation in the joy and gladness which the springing forth of the light was afterwards to produce; a participation they could not have had, if their spirits were never again to be re-united to their bodies. Yea, much more than a vague idea, on this subject, do their acts and sayings testify-they testify that it was made known to them, that, out of the grave, life was to arise. Thus it was to 'the resurrection of the just, the twelve tribes instantly serving God day and night hoped to come.'

"THE RISING FROM THE DEAD,' first of the Propitiation himself, and then of the people, was preached to the fathers in many divers ways. The ascension of the smoke of the sacrifice to heaven, was one of the proofs of its acceptance. Abraham received his son Isaac (the figurative propitiation) again from the dead in a figure. The light, the unceasing witness and figure of Him who was to come, rose out of darkness. Many of their ceremonies and customs indicated plainly, that distress, sorrow, and death were to precede the rising of the light of life

out of obscurity. At certain periods of darkness, the whole nation was plunged in sorrow and clothed in sackcloth, which was changed into tumultuous joy when the light re-appeared; and branches and other figurative emblems of the Shiloh (the Branch, the Irradiator) were then held aloft, preaching, as plainly as signs could do, His deliverance from death; while the participation of all the people, in the joy as well as sorrow on these occasions, indicated their hope of a share in the resurrection, as certainly as they were to participate in the death. Pillars, rising out of the earth (emblems of the resurrection), were placed over graves. Trees, shrubs, and flowers, also emblematic of the same thing, were placed over them.

In these, and a thousand other figurative ways, the hope of the resurrection was taught of old. But there was one metaphor in particular, borrowed from a phenomenon in nature, which entered into the composition of many words in the ancient language, and expressed, perhaps more distinctly than any other, the precise nature of their expectation concerning the life to come.

The phenomenon to which we refer, is the change which is seen to take place on some creatures which pass into a torpid state, ere 'renewing their youth,' and re-appearing in greater beauty and splendour. This is seen, the most conspicuously, in the worm passing into the state of chrysalis; re-appearing in plumage, covered with silver and feathers of yellow gold,' and winging its way toward heaven.