Twelve men were chosen, one from each tribe, and sent ahead to see what manner of place Canaan was, if there was land enough, and if the people dwelling there were friendly.
The twelve men set out, and after forty days came back again to the camp, bringing rich fruits which they had gathered there. "The land of Canaan is a beautiful country," they said, "and it is filled with fruits and corn; but we fear the people there, for they are fierce and warlike."
At this many of the Israelites were frightened. Again they forgot God's promises and began to upbraid Moses for having taken them from their comfortable home in the wilderness.
Then God was angry with them; and he spoke to them in tones of thunder, telling them that for their wickedness they should never be permitted to see the promised land of Canaan; that they should die in the wilderness; and that only the children and the few faithful elders should live to reach the Promised Land.
This was a most grievous punishment to the people; but in a few days they had forgotten it, and again rebellion arose among them.
Three men, Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, grew jealous of the power of Moses and Aaron, and asked why all glory should be theirs.
Moses, worn with the faithlessness of his people, fell upon his face and wept when these jealous men spoke thus to him. His heart ached with the injustice of it, and he despaired ever of teaching his people.
The next day Korah and all his people came and stood before the tabernacle, as Moses had bid them. Then the voice of the Lord spoke, bidding the people move away from the tabernacle, leaving the three doubting men and their families standing alone.
Then there came a burst of thunder; the earth rocked and groaned; then a great gulf opened beneath the feet of Korah and Dathan and Abiram, and they, with all their children, were swallowed up.
Then God commanded Moses to take twelve rods; and upon the rods to write the names of the twelve tribes. On the rod of the tribe of Levi he was to write the name of Aaron, because Aaron was of that tribe.
"Place now the rods in the tabernacle; and the rod bearing the name of him I appoint High Priest shall bud and blossom."
DEATH OF KORAH, DATHAN, AND ABIRAM.
And when the morning came, behold the rod of Aaron had budded and blossomed. Then the people were content; and the rod was kept ever after in the tabernacle.
For a time peace was in the camp, and more than once the Israelites came near unto the Promised Land. But it had been said they should never reach it; and so many, many times they fell back and turned away.
Over and over again they rebelled at Moses and Aaron, until the patience of those two was exhausted. They forgot themselves to ask for guidance, and once, unable to endure greater trial, they cried out, "O ye rebels! ye rebels!" and there was anger in their hearts as they spoke.
By and by the time came for Aaron to die. So Moses took the priestly garments from him and gave them to Eleazer. Then Aaron died, and the Israelites mourned for him thirty days.
Then the people wandered on and on. Once they were bitten by serpents; and that they might be healed, Moses lifted a brazen serpent in the wilderness and bade the suffering ones to look upon it and live.
But now the forty years were nearly at an end; Canaan, too, was very close; and, although the elders knew that it was not for them to see the Promised Land, yet their children would; and so there was joy in the camp.
But now the death of Moses was at hand. He was one hundred and twenty years old, and had wandered forty years, leading the rebellious Israelites in the wilderness. So God said to Moses, "Come thou up into Mt. Pisgah. From there thou shalt see the fair land of Canaan spread out before thee, although thou mayst never go thither."
So Moses called his people together and told them that his end was at hand. He told them of all God had done for his people, and how wonderfully they had been led forth from bondage. He then bade them take Joshua for their leader; for he it was who should lead them into the Promised Land.
The people wept most bitterly, and many prostrated themselves before the good man who had borne so much for them.
Then Moses turned and went up into Mt. Pisgah. There lay the fair land of Canaan at his feet, with its fertile valleys and rich fruits and abundant harvests of corn.
Upon this fair scene Moses gazed; then, raising his face towards God, thanked Him that the wanderings of the children of Israel were now at an end.
Then he laid himself down and died. The Lord buried him, but no man knew how or where.
And when the children of Israel knew he would come no more to them, they wept too for him thirty days upon the plains of Moab.
THE BURIAL OF MOSES.
By Nebo's lonely mountain, on this side Jordan's wave,
In a vale in the Land of Moab there lies a lonely grave.
And no man knows that sepulchre, and no man saw it e'er,
For the angels of God upturned the sod, and laid the dead man there.
That was the grandest funeral that ever passed on earth;
But no man heard the trampling, or saw the train go forth—
Noiselessly as the daylight comes back when night is done,
And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek grows into the great sun.
Noiselessly as the spring-time her crown of verdure weaves,
And all the trees on all the hills open their thousand leaves;
So without sound of music, or voice of them that wept,
Silently down from the mountain's crown the great procession swept.
Perchance the bald old eagle, on gray Beth-Peor's height,
Out of his lonely eyrie looked on the wondrous sight;
Perchance the lion stalking, still shuns that hallowed spot,
For, beast and bird have seen and heard that which man knoweth not.
But when the warrior dieth, his comrades in the war,
With arms reversed and muffled drum, follow his funeral car;
They show the banners taken, they tell his battles won,
And after him lead his masterless steed, while peals the minute gun.
Amidst the noblest of the land we lay the sage to rest.
And give the bard an honored place, with costly marble drest,
In the great minster transept where lights like glories fall,
And the organ rings, and the sweet choir sings along the emblazoned wall.
This was the truest warrior that ever buckled sword,
This the most gifted poet that ever breathed a word;
And never earth's philosopher traced, with his golden pen,
On the deathless page, truths half so sage as he wrote down for men.
And hath he not high honor,—the hillside for a pall,
To lie in state while angels wait with stars for tapers tall,
And the dark rock-pines like tossing plumes, over his bier to wave,
And God's own hand, in that lonely land, to lay him in the grave?
—Alexander.