with our increased light as to moral distinctions.  Hence, on the command of God to slay his son, Abraham had no scruples on the ground of morality; that is, he did not feel that it was wrong to take his son’s life if God commanded him to do so, any more than it would be wrong, if required, to slay a slave or an animal, since both were alike his property.  Had he entertained more enlightened views as to the sacredness of life, he might have felt differently.  With his views, God’s command did not clash with his conscience.

Still, the sacrifice of Isaac was a terrible shock to Abraham’s paternal affection.  The anguish of his soul was none the less, whether he had the right of life and death or not.  He was required to part with the dearest thing he had on earth, in whom was bound up his earthly happiness.  What had he to live for, but Isaac?  He doubtless loved this child of his old age with exceeding tenderness, devotion, and intensity; and what was perhaps still more weighty, in that day of polygamous households, than mere paternal affection, with Isaac were identified all the hopes and promises which had been held out to Abraham by God himself of becoming the father of a mighty and favored race.  His affection as a father was strained to its utmost tension, but yet more was his faith in being the progenitor of offspring that should inherit the land of Canaan.  Nevertheless, at God’s command he was willing to make the sacrifice, “accounting that God is able to raise up, even from the dead.”  Was there ever such a supreme act of obedience in the history of our race?  Has there ever been from his time to ours such a transcendent manifestation of faith?  By reason Abraham saw the foundation of his hopes utterly swept away; and yet his faith towers above reason, and he feels that the divine promises in some way will be fulfilled.  Did any man of genius ever conceive such an illustration of blended piety and obedience?  Has dramatic poetry ever created such a display of conflicting emotions?  Is it possible for a human being to transcend so mighty a sacrifice, and all by the power of faith?  Let those philosophers and theologians who aspire to define faith, and vainly try to reconcile it with reason, learn modesty and wisdom from the lesson of Abraham, who is its great exponent, and be content with the definition of Paul, himself, that it is “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen;” that reason was in Abraham’s case subordinate to a loftier and grander principle,—­even a firm conviction, which nothing could shake, of the accomplishment of an end against all probabilities and mortal calculations, resting solely on a divine promise.

Another remarkable thing about that memorable sacrifice is, that Abraham does not expostulate or hesitate, but calmly and resolutely prepares for the slaughter of the innocent and unresisting victim, suppressing all the while his feelings as a father in obedience and love to the Sovereign of heaven and earth, whose will is his supreme law.