In accordance with the usages of those around her, she gave her handmaid to her husband to be his wife, “that their children might bless her age.”  She doubtless felt herself strong enough in love to Abraham and to Hagar to believe that her affection would embrace their children.  But when the trial came, and all the instincts of the heart, all the feelings of the wife revolted, she proved that this violation of a heaven-appointed institution brings only sorrow and strife.  Yet there was no alienation between Sarah and Abraham.  The wife of his youth was ever dearer to him than the mother of his child.

At length, however, the promise was fulfilled.  Sarah became a mother.  Many years had passed since she had left the home of her fathers.  The days of man were now much abridged, and she was fast approaching the ordinary limit of human life; but we may suppose her cheek was still fair and her brow smooth, and that she still retained much of the beauty of youth.

With a wondering joy, Sarah gazed upon the child so long desired—­the child in whose seed “all the nations of the earth” were to be “blessed.”  And she said, “God hath made me to laugh, so that all who hear shall laugh;” and while those that heard that Sarah “had borne Abraham a son in his old age,” wondered at an event so strange, Abraham must have pondered the prophecy which had revealed to him the destiny of his race,—­perhaps foreseeing that Star which was to rise in a still distant age, and apprehending, however dimly and faintly, something of the mysterious connection between the birth of the child and the promise given in the hour of the curse—­the blending of the fate of his race with the eternal plan of mercy and redemption.

There is an instinct in our natures which leads us to rejoice at a birth; but, could Sarah have foreseen the destiny of her race, tears would have mingled with her smiles.  Wonderful has been the past history of that people, strange their present condition, while the future may develop mysteries still more incomprehensible.

In the hour of rejoicing over the new-born babe, past transgression brought forth its legitimate fruits.  Sullenness and strife were brooding in the bosoms of the Egyptian bond-woman and her son; and the quiet eye of the mother saw all the danger arising from the jealous hate and rivalry of the first-born of Abraham.

If the decision was stern, it was needful.  “Cast out the bond-woman and her child, for her son shall not be heir with my son, even with Isaac.”  Harsh words,—­but it is better to dwell peacefully asunder, than together in strife and bitterness.  The malignant passions which led Ishmael to mock, might soon be stimulated by the mother to murder,—­chafed and irritated as she was by the constant presence of the child who had supplanted her own.  From the time of the departure of Hagar from the household of Abraham, peace seems to have rested upon it.  Prosperity attended him.  He no longer wandered from place to place.  He remained in Hebron, sojourning with Sarah and her child.