"And the word of the Lord was precious in those days; there was no open vision... And the child Samuel ministered unto the Lord before Eli." (1 Sam.3.1).

They were dark days in Israel, those days when the lamp of God was going out in the Temple of God, and the vision had become to all as a book that was sealed. It was a day of old men, a day in which the inspiration and fervour of youth had been lost in a timorous and apathetic old age. The leaders of the people, who for the time they had known the God of Israel and his mighty power should have administered their charge with the maturity and mellowness of character that a life-time of service in Divine things can give, had become spiritually blinded, and their eyes were darkened, and they knew not that the holy and royal nation was already a long way from the covenant God had made with their fathers. The Judges had ruled Israel for several centuries; in the first days of the settlement in the land, immediately after its conquest at the time of the Exodus, they had been upright and noble men, men of insight and determination, men who went in the power and strength of God, and who prospered accordingly. But the rule of the Judges had grown old, and the stirring days of Joshua and the Conquest were as far away from them as the days of Queen Elizabeth and the Spanish Armada are to us now; and as remote in the minds of leaders and people. So the nation languished and fell under the power of its enemies, the while judges and priests alike accepted the privileges and emoluments of their respective positions and ignored their obligations.

The time was ripe for a change. In one more generation there were to be kings in Israel, with all of the glory and power, patriotic fervour and national pride—and all, too, of oppression and misery—that the rule of kings involves. But the change had to come; the old system of rule by judges could no longer serve the multiplying interests of the developing nation, and the Judges were doomed. But in their passing, and before they passed, God raised up one who should be the glory of the old order and the guiding star of the new—Samuel, the last and the greatest of the Judges.

He was such a small boy, this child whom Hannah, in the love and adoration of her heart, had brought to the sanctuary to serve the Lord God for ever. None could have guessed then that he was destined in after days to guide the nation through one of the most perilous times of its career. Probably very few of the people knew that he was there at all; he must have spent much of his time in the priests' living apartments attached to the sanctuary, employed in the performance of trivial menial duties for the High Priest, and—who can doubt it?—learning with assiduity everything about the laws of God and his dealings with his people Israel that the aged Eli was able to teach him.

So the years rolled by, and Israel departed farther and farther from the Lord. The child would be about six years old when his mother brought him to the sanctuary. He could not have been less than fourteen when the great thing happened. And in all those intervening years he was laying the foundations of his future life of service, in the quietness and seclusion of the sanctuary, storing up in his receptive mind the details of his people's history, of their covenant with God and their holy calling, of God's promises and intentions with respect to their future, and his determination that one day evil should be done away and all the earth filled with his glory. The principles of truth and justice, of love and mercy, became embedded in the boy's character and moulded his outlook, even although as yet he had no opportunity to learn anything of the outside world where those principles were so universally despised and disesteemed.

So it came to pass, one quiet night, when the countryside around Shiloh was bathed in the silver light of the moon sailing serenely across the heavens, that the light of the seven-branched lampstand in the Holy of the sanctuary flickered uncertainly as the lamp wicks tried unavailingly to extract the last scanty drops of oil from the vessels. It was the duty of the priests to keep that lampstand trimmed and filled so that the light should burn perpetually. But they were neglectful of their duty, and Eli, the old High Priest, was too apathetic either to see that they performed their task or to reprove them for not doing it. And as it flickered, casting huge and grotesque shadows on the wall and ceiling of the Holy, there came from behind the Vail, where the Ark of the Covenant reposed in solitary splendour within the Holiest of all, a Voice.

"Samuel!"
The lad was not asleep. He was laid down in his place, in one of the little apartments that flanked the sanctuary. Perhaps he was pondering over the things he saw and heard every day, puzzling over the apparent inconsistency of that which Eli was teaching him and the manner in which Eli and his sons conducted their sacred mission. Maybe he was thinking of the things he in his turn would do for God when he was grown up and able to engage in the service of which, more than anything else, he wanted to be a minister. He might have wondered how it could come about, for he was not a priest and could never be a priest; he was not of the family of Levi and only those who came of Levi could be priests. And yet he wanted to serve his God with all the ardour and zeal of his young heart. Surely there could be some way! The need was great; he realised that now. He had seen something of the state of Israel's affairs in the incidents that took place in and around the sanctuary itself, and gleaned some understanding of the position from the offerers who came from time to time with their sacrifices. He wanted so badly to serve; he was only a lad, but surely there was something he could do. Surely God could make use of him somewhere-

"Samuel!"
He sat up, listening. The voice had been soft, but clear. It seemed to have come from the sanctuary itself, but of course that could not be. No one would be in there at this time of night and even if they had they would not have called him. He was not allowed to enter where only priests might set foot. It must have been Eli, in need of some small service. He rose and went softly into the High Priest's apartment. The older man seemed to be asleep.

"Here am I; for thou calledst me." He had to speak twice to gain the other's attention. Eli sat up. It was a few moments before he could take in the situation.

"I called not, my son", he said. "Lie down again".

Obediently, the lad returned to his place and lay down. His thoughts went back into their accustomed channel. The night was very quiet and the hour was late, but he was not tired. His mind was alert, active.

"Samuel!"
Roused from sleep for the third time, Eli looked grave. This was no ordinary thing. The lad was not given to idle fancies. He had evidently heard something. Dim memories of his own youth, when he himself had been in closer touch with God than he seemed to be nowadays, filtered into his mind. Perhaps—if an angel had spoken to the lad-

"Go, lie down: and it shall be, if he call thee, that thou shalt say, Speak, Lord; for thy servant heareth."

It was with beating heart that the boy went back to his place and lay down, eyes wide open, ears alert. So the Voice had come from the sanctuary, after all. And It had called him; the Voice of God had called him...

"Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth."

The grey light of dawn was filtering in and revealing the outlines of his simply furnished room. He must go presently and open the outer doors of the people's court, for some would be there with sacrifices which they required offering to cleanse them from petty uncleannesses and defilements. And then he must tell Eli. He feared to do so, for he reverenced the old man and it was a staggering blow to learn that his teacher and mentor from childhood had passed under the judgment of God; must be deprived of his priesthood, his family to remain under Divine interdict (restrain) for ever. He had never dreamed that such things could be, but now he realised that there was such a thing as Divine judgment. It was a sobering thought; his teacher and instructor had failed him; his idol had feet of clay. He must find another guide, another leader. Where should he find him? Where should he obtain the guidance he knew that he needed that he might be flitted to take up the work of God.

And then he remembered the voice from the Sanctuary.

How often, in years much nearer to us than the days of Eli and Samuel, have the old men failed to measure up to the greatness of their privilege, and forsworn the zeal, the faith, the largeness of vision and the spirit of progress which characterised their early youth, and so failed the younger ones who have looked up to them as fathers in the faith. The cumulative disappointments and disillusionments of mounting years, no less than the instinctive desire to protect what one has built against the disintegrating effects of times and change, often produces in the outlook of the elder in the way, an attitude the complete antithesis of that which characterised his early days. Where once he sought to blaze a new trail through the unknown country that lay between him and his and the heavenly Kingdom, he now seeks but to wall round the little preserve he has made for himself. Where once he looked to the future with eyes of eager anticipation, he now looks back over the past with thoughts only of retrospect. Where once he followed the leading of the Spirit, blowing where it listeth, he now wants only to protect the circle of Truth which he has drawn through the years from any fresh incursion of that same Spirit. And so, unconsciously perhaps, not realising what he does, he resents the freshness and zeal of the younger generation, fails to sympathise with their characteristic impulses and immature understanding, and as often as not succeeds in driving them away from the life of service and faith that could have been theirs had right guidance been given them. Thank God that it is not always so amongst us; that there are some, advanced in the tale of earthly years, who have attained a mellowness and maturity of Christian character which gives them to look with kindly and understanding eyes upon those who must needs pick up the torch of Truth from their own failing hands and carry it onward to greater heights. Their own early zealous activity and ardent minds, denied full exercise now because of advancing years, finds its satisfaction in the encouragement of their sons in the faith, and in understanding counsel to those who are seeking to follow in the way they themselves walked these many years since. There is no need for the story of Eli to be repeated in our day; no need for the lamp of God to burn dim in the Temple of God. Eli and Samuel can so easily walk and work together in loving understanding and harmony, each contributing that for which he is fitted; the younger, action and tumultuous zeal; the elder, maturity of thought and quiet counsel in the things of God. In such manner may we all play our part in maintaining the radiant light of Divine Truth in the world, and pass, at length, beyond the inner Vail in the quiet satisfaction of a covenant with God fulfilled to the end. "I have fought a good fight; I have finished the course; I have kept the faith." There is no need for our younger ones to be disappointed in their elders as was Samuel in Eli.

The boy had learnt a great lesson. Henceforth his instruction, heretofore at the hand of an earthly minister, was to come from God himself. A great step forward had been taken. He was no longer a "babe" in the faith; no longer imbibing only the "milk" of the Word. Upon that morning when Samuel opened the doors of the House of the Lord with the consciousness of the midnight revelation in his mind, he saw all things become new. The child Samuel was no more; henceforth he was a man, a man destined to be a power for God in Israel.

(To be continued.)

AOH