The faith of Abraham, which Saint Paul so urgently commends, the same in substance as his own faith in Jesus Christ, stands out in history as so bright and perfect that it is represented as the foundation of religion itself, without which it is impossible to please God, and with which one is assured of divine favor, with its attendant blessings.  If I were to analyze it, I should say that it is a perfect trust in God, allied with obedience to his commands.

With this sentiment as the supreme rule of life, Abraham is always prepared to go wherever the way is indicated.  He has no doubts, no questionings, no scepticism.  He simply adores the Lord Almighty, as the object of his supreme worship, and is ready to obey His commands, whether he can comprehend the reason of them or not.  He needs no arguments to confirm his trust or stimulate his obedience.  And this is faith,—­an ultimate principle that no reasonings can shake or strengthen.  This faith, so sublime and elevated, needs no confirmation, and is not made more intelligent by any definitions.  If the Cogito, ergo sum, is an elemental and ultimate principle of philosophy, so the faith of Abraham is the fundamental basis of all religion, which is weakened rather than strengthened by attempts to define it.  All definitions of an ultimate principle are vain, since everybody understands what is meant by it.

No truly immortal man, no great benefactor, can go through life without trials and temptations, either to test his faith or to establish his integrity.  Even Jesus Christ himself was subjected for forty days to the snares of the Devil.  Abram was no exception to this moral discipline.  He had two great trials to pass through before he could earn the title of “father of the faithful,”—­first, in reference to the promise that he should have legitimate children; and secondly, in reference to the sacrifice of Isaac.

As to the first, it seemed impossible that Abram should have issue through his wife Sarah, she being ninety years of age, and he ninety-nine or one hundred.  The very idea of so strange a thing caused Sarah to laugh incredulously, and it is recorded in the seventeenth chapter of Genesis that Abram also fell on his face and laughed, saying in his heart, “Shall a son be born unto him that is one hundred years old?” Evidently he at first received the promise with some incredulity.  He could leave Ur of the Chaldees by divine command,—­this was an act of obedience; but he did not fully believe in what seemed to be against natural law, which would be a sort of faith without evidence, blind, against reason.  He requires some sign from God.  “Whereby,” said he, “shall I know that I shall inherit it,”—­that is Canaan,—­“and that my seed shall be in number as the stars of heaven?” Then followed the renewal of the covenant; and, according to the frequent custom of the times, when covenants were made between individual men, Abram took a new name:  “And God talked with him, saying,