Isaiah, looking adown the ages to the coming of Christ’s Kingdom, likened it to waters breaking out in the wilderness and streams in the desert. For centuries there was no voice of prophet in Israel or revelation from God to His chosen people, when suddenly the long silence was broken. It was in the days of Herod the Great, when sin and misery had reached their climax, and when the yearning for Messiah’s appearance was more intensely felt than ever. The Temple, so often the scene of the manifestation of the glory of God, became again the centre, whence the first rays of light secretly break through the darkness.

One of the priests, named Zacharias, while performing his duty in the service of the sanctuary, burning incense before the Lord, had a vision, in which he was assured that his prayer was heard, and great distinction conferred upon him in a twofold answer: First, the Messiah shall indeed appear in his days; and, secondly, that he shall himself be the father of the forerunner, who is to prepare His way—an honor he could not have ventured to anticipate. What human tongue could have foretold it to him, or how could he have ventured to hearken to the voice of his own heart, without direct revelation? Zacharias sought first the Kingdom of God, and His righteousness, and all other things were added to him.

In the service of the sanctuary the burning of incense before the Lord was considered exceedingly important and honorable. The people were accustomed to unite in the outer court in silent supplication, while the priest in the sanctuary offered the incense, which was ever regarded as the symbol of acceptable prayer.

Remaining longer in the sanctuary than was strictly necessary, the people, who were waiting in the outer court of the Temple, feared that some misfortune, or sign of the divine displeasure, had befallen him, for they “marveled that he tarried so long.” And when he finally appeared “he could not speak.” While standing before the altar, awaiting the signal to sift the precious incense, a heavenly messenger appeared unto him. When Zacharias saw the angel he was troubled, and fear fell upon him. The heavenly messenger quickly answered, “Fear not, Zacharias, for thy prayer is heard; and thy wife Elizabeth shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John.”

Both Zacharias and Elizabeth were of the priestly race, and he himself was a priest of the course of Abia, and she was of the daughters of Aaron. Both, too, were devout persons, walking in the commandments of God, and waiting for the fulfillment of His promise to Israel. But in the midst of the glorious revelations the angel had made, strange to say, Zacharias had asked for some sign or confirmation of the glad tidings. The angel answered, “I am Gabriel” (the Might of God) “and, behold, thou shalt be dumb.” As faith is to be the chief condition of the new covenant, it was needful that the first manifestation of unbelief should be emphatically punished, but the wound inflicted becomes a healing medicine to the soul. The aged priest was constrained to much silent reflection, and, according to the counsel of God, the secret was still kept for a time.

There is here a remarkable coincidence between Zacharias and Abraham on the one side, and Elizabeth and Sarah on the other; not only in the fact of their lack of an heir during so many years, but also in the frame of mind in which they at length received the heavenly message. In these parallel histories, the man of the olden times is strong in the faith, the woman weak; while under the new covenant it is the man whose faith falters. On the very threshold of the new dispensation woman, in the person of Elizabeth, takes her place in the foreground by the heroism of a living faith. It is also quite in keeping with Divine wisdom that in this case unbelief in view of the rising sun of the gospel salvation is much more severely punished than under the old dispensation.

THE ANGEL’S MESSAGE.

The sight of Zacharias struck dumb awakened among the people an expectation of some great and heavenly event; soon will “the things” done in the priest’s house be “noised abroad throughout all the hill country of Judea,” and the voice of “him that crieth” shall soon resound over hill and valley.

The sacred duties performed, retirement was next in order. As a priest, in the “course of Abia,” the twenty-four courses in the services of the temple relieved each other weekly, each course ministering during a whole week. So Zacharias and Elizabeth leave Jerusalem for their home among the picturesque hills of Judea, south-west of Bethlehem. How beautiful are the pictures of these Israelitish homes into which the Bible bids us so often to look. The familiar vine and fig-tree; the flower-planted courts; the waterpots filled for quenching thirst; the basin and towel and servant to bathe the heated, often dust-covered, feet; the domestic scene morning and evening in the grinding of the food in the familiar hand-mill, the work always performed by the women; the delightful views from the housetops in the cool of the evening; the maidens busy in filling the waterpots; the halting of visitors in the outer court, waiting for some damsel to open the door; the thousand little touches of real life which are always so charming to the observer. In addition to these outward signs, the good manners and propriety, the atmosphere of true courtesy; the youth rising up before the hoary head; the child learning at his mother’s knee, or inquiring of father or elder; a joyousness, such as a mind at peace with God only can exert, are all manifest in these Bible pictures which ages can not dim. Yet most striking are the proofs that in every household children were desired, and gladly welcomed.

Notwithstanding a barren wife in an Israelitish home was often a cause for divorce, Zacharias was pre-eminently a man of hope. As a pious husband and lover, he had faithfully and tenderly clung to his beloved Elizabeth through the long years of youth and middle age, and even after hope had died out of their longing hearts. Both had learned “the patience of unanswered prayer”—a lesson not easily mastered by the bravest of us. But now the hope was to be realized, the “reproach among men” was to be taken away. In that home among the hills of Judea was to be a child in the arms of its mother. The name of the child, and he a son, was to be John (Jehovah shows grace). Many homes would rejoice in his birth, and he would be God’s man, eating nothing to inflame carnal passions, and filled with the Holy Spirit, he would become prophet and reformer. The grossly literal hope of the people for Elijah’s appearance in the flesh would be spiritually fulfilled, for Elizabeth’s son was to have the spirit and the power of the Tishbite; and thus gifted of the Almighty, was to be the forerunner of the Christ. All that was spoken of the Messiah’s messenger by Isaiah, as “the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make His paths straight,” and by Malachi, “Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me,” were fulfilled in this son of many prayers.

In due time he was born, and on the eighth day, in conformity with the law of Moses, was brought to the priest for circumcision, and, as the performance of this rite was the accustomed time for naming a child, the friends of the family proposed to call him Zacharias after the name of his father. The mother, however, required that he should be called John—a decision which Zacharias, still speechless, confirmed by writing on a tablet, “his name is John.” The judgment on his want of faith was then withdrawn, and the first use which he made of his recovered speech, was to praise Jehovah for his faithfulness and mercy, a proof that the cure had taken place in his soul also.

A single verse contains all that we know of Elizabeth’s child of promise for the space of thirty years—the whole period which elapsed between his birth and the commencement of his public ministry. The record is, “The child grew and waxed strong in the spirit, and was in the desert till the day of his showing unto Israel.” But we must not forget that through his childhood and youth he was under the care of a wise, loving mother. Elizabeth’s unfaltering faith and prudent counsel, we must believe, exerted a lasting influence over this child of the desert.

The child thus supernaturally born, was surely a sign that God was again visiting His people. His providence, so long hidden, seemed once more about to manifest itself in the person of Elizabeth’s son, who, doubtless must be commissioned to perform some important part in the history of the chosen people. Could it be the Messiah? Could it be Elijah? Was the era of their old prophets about to be restored? With such grave thoughts were the minds of the people occupied, as they mused on the events which had been passing under their eyes, and said one to another, “What manner of child shall this be?”

So when John passed out from under the wise training of Elizabeth, his reputation for extraordinary sanctity, and the generally prevailing expectation that some great one was about to appear, were sufficient to attract to him a great multitude from “every quarter.” Brief and startling was his first exhortation to them, “Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” His preaching of repentance, however, meant more than a mere legal ablution or expiation, it meant a change of heart and life. While such was his solemn admonition to the multitude at large, he adopted towards the leading sects of the Jews a severer tone, denouncing Pharisees and Sadducees alike as “a generation of vipers,” and warning them of the folly of trusting to external privileges as descendants of Abraham. He plainly told them, “the axe was laid to the root of the tree,” that formal righteousness would be no longer tolerated. Such alarming declarations produced their effect, and many of every class pressed forward to confess their sins and to accept John’s ministry.

This son of Elizabeth is one of the most striking characters in the Bible. Destined from before his birth to be a prophet, his life was worthy of his high office. Pure, unsullied, earnest, fearless, humble, he much resembled his great predecessor, Elijah. Like him, he was an ascetic, and like him, he had his time of fearless outspeaking and of reproval of kings, and hypocrites; and like him, also, a time of depression, as when he sent to Christ to ask, “Art thou He that should come, or shall we look for another?”

A noble example of the fearless manner in which he proclaimed the truth is illustrated in the denunciation of the unlawful marriage of Herod Antipas, the Tetrarch. He had married a daughter of Aretas, King of Petra, but seeing Herodias, the wife of his half brother, Philip, he became infatuated with her, divorced his own wife and married Herodias, who abandoned Philip to marry him. Herodias was a grand-daughter of Herod the Great. This unprincipled woman wrought the ruin of Herod Antipas. Aretas, angry at the treatment of his daughter, made war upon Herod. John reproved Herod for all this, and he evidently had not minced words. Neither had he spoken in such low whispers that he might seem to others to disapprove the crime, but still escape the notice of the king. He thundered out his denunciations in a way to make even the royal couple alarmed, and caused them to shut John up in prison, lest his growing popularity should undermine the security of Herod’s throne. And then Herodias secured the execution of John, which angered the Jews, for they counted John as a prophet and held the subsequent defeat of Herod by Aretas as a judgment upon him for this wicked deed.

Such, in brief was the son of the most highly and signally honored Woman in White Raiment in sacred history, Mary, the mother of Jesus, only excepted. The strong faith of the pious Elizabeth, as developed in her noble son, has been a blessing to the whole race of man. The clear shining faith to grasp the promises of God are most beautifully exemplified in the pure, self-sacrificing, and devoted life of Elizabeth.

Closely related to the events in the life of Elizabeth, as just narrated, is the birth of our blessed Lord.

There is no person in sacred or in profane literature around whom so many legends have been grouped as around the Virgin Mary, and there are few whose authentic history is more concise. Doubtless the very simplicity of the sacred narrative has been one cause of the abundance of the legendary matter of which she forms the central figure. According to the genealogy given by Luke, which is that of Mary, her father’s name was Heli. She was, like Joseph, her husband, of the tribe of Judah, and of the house and lineage of David. We are informed that at the time of the angel’s visitation she was betrothed to Joseph and was therefore regarded by the Jewish law and custom as his wife, though he had not yet a husband’s rights over her.

The angel Gabriel, who had appeared to Zacharias in the Temple, appeared to her and announced that she was to be the mother of the long-expected Messiah; that in Him the prophecies relative to David’s throne and kingdom should be accomplished; and that his name was to be called Jesus. He further informed her, perhaps as a sign by which she might convince herself that his prediction with regard to herself would come true, that her relative Elizabeth was about to be blessed in the birth of a child.

It appears that Mary at once set off to visit Elizabeth in her home in the hill country of Judea. When she had reached her destination, and immediately on her entrance into the house, she was saluted by Elizabeth as the mother of our Lord, and had evidence of the truth of the angel’s saying with regard to her cousin Elizabeth, Mary then embodied her feelings of exultation and thankfulness in the hymn known under the name of the Magnificat. The hymn is founded on Hannah’s song of thankfulness (1 Sam. ii, 1-10), and exhibits an intimate knowledge of the Psalms, prophetical writings and books of Moses, from which sources almost every expression in it is drawn.

In approaching this exquisite bit of Hebrew poetry uttered by Mary we may profitably consider, first, its beauty of expression; and second, its nobility and grandeur of sentiment. The hymn consists of four stanzas of four lines each, and its literary character is best brought out by a translation which so arranges it. The first stanza reads:

In this stanza three points of parallelism appear in the first two lines. In the first occurs the word “soul,” and in the second the word “spirit,” which we understand to be but different designations of the same elements of our natures. Whatever difference in the use of these terms in other places it is evident that here according to the ordinary requirements of Hebrew poetry, the two words are chosen because of their similarity in meaning. The other synonymous terms are the words “magnify” and “rejoice;” “the Lord” and “God my Saviour.” Thus is introduced the so-called Magnificat. The characteristic of Hebrew poetry is not that it is arranged in rhyme and measured feet, but in the grander rhythm belonging to parallelisms of thought. Such a rhythm has far more freedom and force than that which consists of mere similarity of measure and sound. Hence it is that the poetry of the Bible is so readily translated into other languages, and loses so little of its force in the process; whereas poetry which depends upon the peculiarities of any given language is incapable of translation. The essential thing in Hebrew poetry is sublimity of thought and diction, accompanied by a substantial repetition of the sentiment in terms that are nearly synonymous. The thoughts are thus held before the mind till it can fully see their grandeur and beauty, and receive those shades of impression which come from repeated efforts at statement.

In the second couplet of the above stanza Mary gives the reason for her rejoicing. She was of humble origin, and, before her neighbors and friends, was to be humbled still further. But, as is so often the case, what was Mary’s extremity was God’s opportunity, and He was to glorify Himself by making the weak things of the earth confound the mighty. As He brought Moses from the wilderness and David from the sheepfold, so was He to bring Mary from the seclusion of Nazareth and the humiliation in the stable at Bethlehem to a position of honor attained by no other woman, and all generations were henceforth to call her blessed.

The second stanza reads:

Here the great things spoken of as done to Mary (in the first line) correspond, or rather constitute, the mercy (of the third line) which flows forth from the gospel from age to age; and the holiness of His name mentioned in the second is that characteristic of God which evokes the fear mentioned in the fourth line.

The third stanza may be literally rendered as follows:

In this, as all through the hymn, we have the flavor of Hebraistic forms of speech. In their poetical conceptions they did not think of God as an abstract being, but as having a mighty arm with which He swayed the nations and dashed their foolish plans in pieces, as one might break a potter’s vessel with a rod of iron. How little do men know the flimsiness of the schemes which they organize against the Lord and His anointed! The third and fourth lines of this stanza contain a double parallelism and a twofold antithesis. He casts down the kings and lifts up the lowly people; He fills to fullness the hungry, and sends the rich away empty.

In the fourth stanza we read:

What a glorious conception this is of Israel, the hero of God, and who was not a servant, but a son, for that is the true meaning of the word rendered “servant.” The word is also one of endearment. And so we are reminded, in the second line, of His tender mercy. The only mercy of which He could have spoken to our fathers was His own, expressing itself in the whole scheme of salvation as revealed in the Bible. It was a peculiar plan of mercy revealed to Abraham and his spiritual descendants.

Such, in brief, are the noble conceptions and the lofty figures of speech of this exquisite hymn of Mary. And we ask involuntarily, Whence comes it that so humble a maiden should thus in the beauty of her diction and the sublimity of her conceptions have rivaled, if not eclipsed, all the poets both of ancient and modern times?

It might seem a short answer to this question to say that Mary was inspired. But such an answer does not satisfy the reasoning mind. God in His wisdom does not ordinarily see fit to disregard the secondary causes which He has created. We are led to look, therefore, to the character and condition of Mary herself as a partial explanation of the character of this piece of literature. And, upon examining the hymn, we find that it is largely composed of sentences from the Old Testament, embodying the Messianic expectations of the Jewish people. It sounds like an echo, not only of David’s and Hannah’s, but also of Miriam’s, and of Deborah’s harps; yet independently reproduced in the mind of a woman, who had laid up and kept in her heart what she had read in Holy Scripture. Out from the large body of sacred literature which was the rare heritage of her people, she had extracted that which was best and noblest and most appropriate. We do not, however, deny the direct inspiration of this hymn; but we would emphasize the broader conceptions of Providence, how the Holy Spirit can use a mind well stored with the deep things of God, as evidently was the mind of Mary, for, from beginning to end, this hymn assumes a sympathizing acquaintance with the history of the Jewish people, and of all the noble conceptions of the Deity with which the history of that people has made the world familiar.

The unity of God is assumed without question. It is the Lord Jehovah that her soul magnifies. It is the only true God her Saviour in which her spirit rejoices. Nor is it a God of mere power, but a God of love and tenderness, whom she adores. It is one who has regard not for men alone and the great ones of the earth, but for the humble woman who occupies the most contracted sphere that falls to the lot of any. And in this the power of the God she adores appears pre-eminent, for he is able to make great things out of small. It was He who took Israel as a little vine and made him a great nation. It was He that multiplied the widow’s cruse of oil and handful of meal till she had a superabundance. It was He who lifted Rahab out of her wicked and heathen surroundings and placed her in the line of royal women in whom all the families of earth were to be blessed. It is He that notes the sparrow’s fall, that numbers the hairs of our heads, that hears the prayers we offer in secret when the door is shut, and that rewards us openly. It is He that can exalt the humblest life and make it gleam with the sunshine of His own glory. “Not many mighty, not many noble, are called ... but ... God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty ... yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought the things that are.”

Only such a God could lift on high so humble a maiden, and turn upon her the gaze of all the nations of the earth. But the God of Israel well might do it, for He is the Mighty One, and able to do great things, and His mercy is upon them that fear Him from generation to generation. In Israel’s deliverance from Egypt and in all their subsequent history, He had shown the strength of His arm. The wrecks of the nations that opposed Him strew the whole pathway of history. And as He raised Joseph from prison and exalted Daniel from the lion’s den, so should He ever lift up the meek, and help His servant Israel, and remember His promises to Abraham and His seed forever. Only one who is familiar with such a history could write such a hymn. Surely it is a great thing to be educated into such thoughts as these. To breathe in such sentiments in the very atmosphere of one’s home and in the social circles in which one daily moves is the highest of earthly privileges. It is only in such a hymn as this of Mary that we get a proper conception of the grandeur and nobleness of the thoughts underlying Hebrew history. In her Magnificat, Mary breathed the thoughts of those that surrounded her. From the days of pious Hannah down to those of Elizabeth, the women of Israel had been moved by such longings and animated by such hopes as have never been possible to any other people. They had the promise made in Eden that the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the serpent who led the world astray. And now to her, to this humble virgin of Israel, had the fulfillment of this promise come, and truly blessed was she among women. For here was the performance of those things which had been told her from the Lord. The great crisis of the world’s history had arrived, and she was the chosen channel through which the hope of the nations was come.

O, blessed Woman in White Raiment, may thy hymn of praise, divinely inspired, be often upon our lips, and the sweetness of its precious truths continually in our hearts!

The words of the angel in respect to Elizabeth having been confirmed by this personal visit of Mary to her home in the hill country of Judea, she returned to Nazareth.

Soon after this the decree of Augustus, the Roman emperor, that all the world should be taxed, was promulgated, and Joseph and Mary traveled to Bethlehem to have their names enrolled in the registers of their tribe. It would seem that the Israelites still clung to their genealogies and tribal relations, and, though the undertaking was a severe strain upon Mary, and notwithstanding, according to the Roman custom, her name could have been enrolled without her personal presence, this woman, who was to be the most blessed of women, greatly preferred to accompany her husband on this journey of over seventy miles, much of the way up and down steep, rocky hills. Traveling in the East, under its most favorable conditions, is a slow, tiresome affair, especially for women. But Mary drudged along the mountain path, in company with her husband, all the way from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Her love for the city of David seems to have overcome all difficulties. Possibly a contemplative mind like hers may have perceived that this decree of Cæsar Augustus was but an instrument, in the hand of Providence, to fulfill ancient prophecy with respect to the birthplace of the Messiah, for Micah had declared that out of Bethlehem Ephratah, though little among the thousands of Judah, “yet out of thee shall He come forth unto Me that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting.” So, while it would seem that an arbitrary decree decided where Christ is to be born, God had manifested His wisdom in the choice of the time, place and circumstances, and was faithful in the fulfillment of the word of prophecy, ever carrying out His plans through the free acts of men. In this instance the great Roman Cæsar, even without his knowledge, became an official agent in the kingdom of God.

So it came to pass, in the fullness of time, and in the beloved city of David, Bethlehem Ephratah, Mary brought forth the Saviour of the world, and humbly laid Him in a manger. Here, amid these humble surroundings, in the stall of an inn, among the beasts, was the advent of the Son of God, the Saviour of the world. And, behold, the Life which was to lift “empires off their hinges” and turn the “stream of centuries out of its course”—a life which was to revolutionize the world and transform humanity—had begun.

The place where the inn stood is now occupied by an enormous pile of buildings, known as the “Church of the Nativity.” Down in the crypt of this church, reached by fifteen stone steps, and in the eastern wall of it, is a silver star, around which are the words: “Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est”—“Here Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary.” One can not with indifference behold such a spot as this. To us it was a sacred and hallowed place, and we felt subdued and reverent while beholding the place where began the greatest life earth has ever contained. To the Christian, Bethlehem stands first among the holiest places on the face of the globe, and we were hushed into reverence by its sacred associations and charmed by its natural beauty.

The “inn,” the scene of the nativity, stood on the crest of a hill that rapidly falls away to a valley seven hundred feet below. At its base is the “well” for the waters of which David so greatly longed. On the opposite side is a hill still more precipitous than the one on which Bethlehem stands. The little valley between the hills gradually opens out eastward, where once stood the wheatfields of Boaz, in which Ruth gleaned after the reapers. Just beyond this, scarcely a mile from the “city of David,” is the field where the shepherds were “keeping watch over their flock by night, when lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them,” with this glad proclamation, “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.” Then suddenly night was turned into day by the radiant brightness of a multitude of the heavenly host, filling earth and sky with their song:

The visit of the shepherds to the inn, the circumcision and presentation in the Temple, the visit and adoration of the wise men who saw His star in far off Persia, the cruel massacre of the children of Bethlehem by Herod, and the flight into Egypt, are rather scenes in the life of Christ than that of his mother, and are fully described in “The Christ Lifted Up.”

However, in passing, it may be well to pause long enough to observe how the presentation in the Temple brings the limited circumstances of Joseph and Mary to our notice. The custom of ceremonial purification by a Jewish mother in the sanctuary with a sacrifice is fully stated in Lev. xii. Two offerings were required, a burnt and a sin offering. When Mary presented herself with her babe in the court of the women, in the Temple, the proper offering was a lamb for a burnt offering, and a young pigeon or a turtle-dove for a sin offering; but with that beautiful tenderness which is so marked a characteristic of the Mosaic law, those who were too poor for so comparatively costly an offering were allowed to bring instead two turtle-doves or two young pigeons. Mary, instead of the lamb and dove, brought the offering of the poor—two doves. With this offering in her hand, she presented herself to the priest.

One incident more occurs in the presentation in the Temple. At the moment when Mary had completed her consecration, an old man came tottering through the throng. It was the aged Simeon, “just and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel.” Taking from Mary’s arms her precious infant, and, as with face aglow and eyes kindled with heavenly fire, in speaking his holy rapture, one passage is specially directed to her, “Yea, a sword shall pierce through thine own soul also.” This “sword,” we must believe, entered her heart as later she saw her Son on the cross.

In the return from Egypt after the death of Herod the Great, it appears to have been the intention of Joseph to have settled at Bethlehem at this time, as his home at Nazareth had now been broken up for a year or more, intending there to rear the infant King, at his own royal city, until the time should come when he would sit upon David’s throne and restore the fallen kingdom to its ancient splendor. But “when he heard that Archelaus did reign in Judea,” he turned aside into Nazareth, as well he might, if he knew the life and character of the new prince, thinking, no doubt, the child’s life would be safer in the tetrarchy of Antipas than in that of Archelaus.

Henceforward, until the beginning of our Lord’s ministry, so far as is known, Mary lived in Nazareth, in a humble sphere of life, the wife of Joseph the carpenter, pondering over the sayings of the angels, of the shepherds, of Simeon, and those of her Son, as the latter “increased in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man.” Two circumstances alone, so far as we know, broke in on the otherwise even flow of her life. One of these was the loss of Jesus out of the company of the homeward journey, when he remained behind at Jerusalem upon the occasion of His first visit to the Temple. His mother is the first to speak. “Son,” she said, “why hast thou thus dealt with us?” His reply gave the keynote of His life, “Wist ye not that I must be about my Fathers business?” The other was the death of Joseph. The exact date of this last event we can not determine. But it was probably not long after the other.

From this time on Mary is withdrawn almost wholly from sight. Four times only is the veil removed, which is thrown over her, and surely not without reason.

1. The first is at the marriage of Cana. It is thought from the interest Mary took in it that the bride or bridegroom, were friends, if not relatives of the family. “And Jesus was called, and His disciples.” The disciples were invited out of respect for their Lord. This unexpected addition to the company may have been the cause of Mary’s evident embarrassment, and she appeals to her Son by saying, “They have no wine.” It is impossible to know all that was in her heart. Possibly from the Jordan had come wonderful news concerning her Son which had inspired her with the hope that now at least, after so long waiting, the time of His manifestation was at hand. What if He should use the present opportunity to show His power! Might she not at least mention it to Him? But, mark His answer, “Woman, what have I to do with thee?” While His reply, in the original, does not have in it the severity it has in the plain English, yet He would have her understand that in His divine character He could not acknowledge her, nor be influenced by her suggestions. Henceforth there must be room between her and Him for His Father. And so He told her with all the tenderness that words and looks could convey that the matter she hinted at was a matter between Him and His Father. Mary quickly acceded to this. By woman’s enlightened intuition she perceived His meaning, and so she said to the servants, “Whatsoever He saith unto you do it.” In confident expectation, she believed He would supply the need. Her beautiful faith in Him was unshaken.

2. The second time Mary comes to view is in the attempt which she and others made to speak with Jesus in the midst of His conflict with the Scribes and Pharisees at Capernaum, when they sought to destroy His good name and influence by applying that most horrible and loathsome epithet, “He had Beelzebub.” We can hardly realize what satanic forces were massed against Jesus at that time. And Mary, who probably, with some friends, stood on the outside of the crowd, became alarmed, and would rescue Him from the malice of His enemies. So she sent a message, which probably was handed on from one person to another, begging Him to allow His friends to speak to Him. Again He refuses to admit any privilege on account of their relationship. “Who is my mother, and who are my brethren?” He loved His mother, but infinite wisdom saw best that she must in no way influence His divine work, which He could not share with another and be the Saviour of the world. He must tread the winepress of men’s malice alone.

3. The third time Mary comes to our notice is at the foot of the cross. She was standing there with Mary Magdalene, Salome, and other women, having no doubt followed her Son as she was able throughout that terrible morning of our Lord’s several trials. It was now three o’clock in the afternoon, and He was about to expire. Standing near the company of the women was John, and, with almost His last words, Christ commended His mother to the care of this disciple. And from that hour, John assures us, he took her to his home. If, by “that hour,” John means immediately after the words were spoken, Mary was not present at the last scene of all. The sword had sufficiently pierced her soul, and she was spared the hearing of the last loud cries and the sight of the bowed head. However we might have understood His relation to Mary, while the great scheme of human redemption was being wrought out, He now turns in beautiful and touching tenderness to her, who tenderly loved Him, even when she could not fully understand His work.

4. The fourth and last time Mary is brought to our view is in the company of the one hundred and twenty believers, assembled at Jerusalem, waiting for the descent of the Holy Spirit. This is the last view we have of her. The Word of God leaves her engaged in prayer in the “upper room,” with the women, and with His brethren. From this point forward we know nothing of her. It is very probable the rest of her life was spent in the home of John, cherished with the tenderness which her sensitive soul would have specially needed, and which she undoubtedly found in him who had borne the distinction of “that disciple whom Jesus loved.”

When the disciples “were scattered abroad” after the martyrdom of Stephen, and the apostles assumed the charge of important centres, we read of John being minister of the church at Ephesus. No doubt Mary removed with John to Ephesus, where, tradition says, she died, and where she was buried. Probably she died before John was banished to Patmos. While at Ephesus, we visited her sepulchre. It is on the north side of Mt. Prion, half way up the mountain side. The tomb is cut out of the solid rock, and in full view of the church, which doubtless she loved so well.

We have already dwelt at considerable length upon the beautiful character of Mary in connection with her song of rejoicing in the house of Elizabeth and known as the Magnificat. So far as Mary is portrayed to us in the Scripture, she is, as we should have expected, the most tender, the most faithful, humble, patient and loving of women, but a woman still, and how she herself regarded her relation to her divine Son is best expressed in her own words:

THE MINISTRY AT EPHESUS.

No doubt she was a comfort in the home of John. The dark shadows of the cross were dissipated when she saw Jesus alive after His resurrection, and communed with Him, and, doubtless, saw Him ascend to heaven in a cloud, and had heard the angels assure His disciples, as they had seen Him depart, in like manner He would come again. She was comforted in the wonderful scene at Pentecost, when three thousand acknowledged Jesus as their Saviour as well as her Saviour. She lived to see the Gospel spread through Judea and Samaria, and the great centres in Asia Minor. She had nobly done her work at Jerusalem and at Ephesus—had told, as none could tell it, the sweet story of the infant Jesus and her glorified Saviour. On account of her presence there was a strange interest about the services of the great church at Ephesus, because the mother of Jesus was among the worshippers. Even the life and ministry of the beloved John was made richer because of her helpful presence.

But now she is growing old. Her earthly mission is drawing to a close. She can not stay longer to bless the people who had learned to love her. Indeed, her affections had already stolen away and preceded her upward. The glad day has come for her to go. Her weary feet will soon stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem. The low murmur of voices and the subdued sobbing of loved ones around her she heeds not, as a strange light breaks upon her, and she hears celestial symphonies from the glory shore. White-winged messengers—jasper walls—pearly gates—golden streets—life’s river—and she is with Him in the land where swords can never enter stricken hearts!

We can not close this chapter without making mention of Anna the Prophetess. It would seem that at the coming of the Saviour into the world, earth and sky clapped their hands for joy, and the mountains and hills broke forth into singing. Not only did Zacharias prophesy, saying “Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel;” and Mary sing her hymn of praise, in which she exclaimed, “My soul doth magnify the Lord;” and the angels who sang, “Glory to God in the highest;” and the aged Simeon, who, coming into the Temple, and taking the child in his arms, burst forth in doxology, “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation,” but also Anna the Prophetess. Scarcely had the sweet strains of the aged Simeon ceased, when the prophetess, coming into the court of the women, in the Temple, and seeing Mary presenting herself with her babe, caught the meaning of the scene and added her voice of praise, “and spake of Him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem.”

It was very fitting that women should have such a prominent part in these human and angelic songs over the nativity of Him who, in after years, proved women’s best friend. Who alone, of all earth’s great teachers, wept with and over woman’s broken heart; who alone pitied woman taken in sin; who alone stood up in defence of woman against cruel criticism; who alone placed in contrast a poor penitent woman over against a well-washed, and we had almost said, “white-washed,” Pharisee; who, on the way to the cross, had words of comfort for womanhood, in the ever-memorable exclamation, “Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for Me!” And why should not these daughters weep for one who had elevated them to their true position? Surely, they might well weep, for they had never had such a friend.

Anna was a daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher, and of very great age—eighty-four years. Her age is specially mentioned, to show that, though she had passed but few years in the married state, she had reached this advanced age as a widow; a fact redounding to her honor in a moral sense, and ranking her among the comparatively small number of “widows indeed,” whom Paul especially commends. It is somewhat remarkable that the name of Anna’s father should be mentioned, and not that of her husband. Perhaps her father survived her husband, and may also have been known as one who waited for the consolation of Israel. The pious words Anna uttered in the presence of Mary and her child in the court of the women can not be the only reason of her being called a prophetess. Such an appellation must have been caused by some earlier and frequent utterances, dictated by the Spirit of prophecy, by reason of which she ranked among the list of holy women who, both in earlier and later times, were chosen instruments of the Holy Spirit. If the spirit of prophecy had departed from Israel since the time of Malachi, according to the opinion of the Jews, the return of this Spirit might be looked upon as one of the tokens of Messiah’s advent.

In Simeon and Anna we see incarnate types of the expectation of salvation under the Old Testament, as in the child Jesus the salvation itself is manifested. At the extreme limits of life, they stand in striking contrast to the infant Saviour, exemplifying the Old Covenant decaying and waxing old before the New, which is to grow and remain. Old age grows youthful, both in Simeon and Anna, at the sight of the Saviour; while the youthful Mary grows inwardly older and riper, as Simeon lifts up before her eyes the veil hanging upon the future. Joseph and Mary marveled at the revelations, not because they learned from Simeon’s prophecy anything they had not heard before, but they were struck and charmed by the new aspect under which this salvation was presented.

There is something very beautiful in this aged Anna, the prophetess, who “departed not from the Temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day.” And the reason given for this consecrated devotion is, she “looked for redemption in Jerusalem.” This aged saint, into whose obscure but loyal keeping the spirit of true religion has always retired in times of a degenerate and formal faith, under the Divine Spirit, refused to depart from the courts of the sanctuary day nor night. Many a long and weary year she had waited for redemption in Jerusalem, and had watched with eager eyes the long procession of fathers and mothers as they presented, according to custom, their first-born at the altar steps. But the Child for whose coming she had waited with such spiritual patience had not come.

At length the supreme day of her life had dawned, and with an unusual expectancy she goes early to her accustomed vigil. As the humble Joseph and Mary draw near, unheralded of men and with no sign of lineage or worth beyond the rank and file of common people, the clear vision of the aged prophetess discovers the King, and with a joy that blossomed into song, she unites with the devout Simeon, who like herself, was also “waiting for the consolation of Israel,” the praises that redemption had at last come to Jerusalem. There was providential coincidence in her coming in just at “that instant,” when Simeon was prophesying and when the babe was in the Temple, for a divine propriety, so to speak, seemed to require that the new-born Saviour should first receive the homage of the elect of Israel.