bearers to the king; and they were also obliged to carry the monarch in his palanquin or chair of state. As fan-bearers, they stood by him while seated on his throne, or in processions to the temples; and in this capacity they followed his chariot on foot, as he celebrated his triumphant return from battle. The distinguishing mark of their princely rank was a badge dependent from the side of the head, intended seemingly to cover and enclose the lock of hair which was left in shaving the head, and which among the Egyptians was the sign of youth.

These facts may illustrate the nature of the privilege which Genubath probably shared with others, of being brought up with the sons of Pharaoh.

Thirty-eighth Week—First Day.

A DEAD DOG.—2 SAMUEL IX. 8.

WHEN the son of Jonathan received the assurance of kindness and protection from David, he said, 'What is thy servant, that thou shouldst look upon such a dead dog as I am?' This, according to Jewish notions and phraseology, is the strongest expression of humility and a sense of unworthiness, nay of vileness, that could be employed. On account of its various unclean habits, the dog was abhorred by the Hebrews, and became the type of all that was low, mean, and degraded; although, by reason of its usefulness, its presence was endured in certain capacities-chiefly in the care of flocks and in hunting. To be called a dog, was therefore the height of ignominious reproach and insult; and for a man to call himself a dog, was the depth of humiliation and self-abasement. The reader will call to mind many instances of this, which it is therefore not needful to point out. Now, if such were the disesteem in which the living animal was held-if to be called 'a dog' merely was so shocking-for one to be called, or to call himself, not only a dog, but a 'dead dog,' is the strongest devisable hyperbole of unworthiness and degradation; for in a dead dog the vileness of a corpse is added to the vileness of a dog.

And who is it that uses this expression? One who was by his birth a prince, of whom we know nothing but what is good; whose sentiments, whenever they appear, are just, generous, and pious; whose private character seems to have been blameless, and his public conduct without spot. Yet this man calls himself a 'dead dog'-that is, the most unworthy of creatures, the vilest of wretches. The phrase, 'I am a worm, and no man,' is nothing to this. Allowing for the hyperbole, it may thus seem that Mephibosheth abased himself far more than he

needed, and confessed himself to be that which he really was

not.

This raises a question of wider meaning than the particular instance involves, and which concerns us very deeply. It touches upon one of the things that are foolishness to the wisdom of the world, and which its philosophy cannot apprehend, because they are spiritually discerned. The world sees men like Mephibosheth, not only decent men,' as they call them in Scotland, and respectable men,' as they are termed in Englandmen not only of stainless moral character, but men of distinguished piety, zealous in every work by which God may be glorified and mankind advantaged—men ready, if need be, to suffer the loss of all things, and to give their bodies to be burned for conscience' sake, and who, like Count Godomar, would rather submit to be torn to pieces by wild beasts than knowingly or willingly commit any sin against God ;'-the world sees this, and yet hears these very men speak of themselves in terms which seem to them applicable to only the vilest of criminals, the offscourings of the earth. This is a case which the world's philosophy has never yet been able to fathom. It sees but the alternative of either taking these men at their own valuation, and holding that whatever fair show they present, they really are what they say, and therefore unfit for the company of honest men-unfit to live upon the earth; or else, that they speak with a disgusting mock humility, in declaring themselves to be what they know that they are not; and there is, perhaps, a general suspicion in the world that these persons would not like to be really taken for such 'dead dogs' as they declare themselves to be.

How does this matter really stand? The obligations of truth are superior to all others. A man must not consciously lie, even in God's cause, nor even to his own disparagement, nor to express his humility. He has no more right to utter untruths to his own disparagement than to his own praise. Truth is absolute. It is obligatory under all circumstances, and in all relations. There is nothing on earth or in heaven that can modify the obligation to observe it. Yet such is the tendency

to think well of ourselves, that although it is counted ignominious and contemptible for a man to utter a falsehood, or even a truth, to magnify himself, it is not considered to be in the same degree dishonourable for him to speak in his own disparagement. Perhaps it might be so, were it supposed that he spoke the truth, or what he believed to be true; for so intense is the degree of self-love for which men give each other credit, that perhaps no man is ever believed to be sincere in whatever he says to his own disadvantage; and it is because nobody believes him because it is concluded that he either deceives himself, or says what he knows to be untrue, that self-disparagement is not regarded dishonourable in the same degree as self-praise. Still it is the fact, that if self-disparagement be knowingly untrue, it is not less culpable than self-praise.

Yet Mephibosheth calls himself a 'dead dog;' Agur avows himself' more foolish than any man ;" and Paul declares himself the chief of sinners."2 Nevertheless, Mephibosheth was a worthy man ; and there were far more foolish men than Agur— far greater sinners than Paul. What then? did they lie? By no means. The man of tender and enlightened conscience knows that in God's sight the very heavens are not clean, and that He charged even his angels with folly. The more advanced he is in the spiritual life, the more clear is the perception which he realizes of the holiness of God, the more distinctly he feels how abhorrent all sin-of thought, word, or action-must be to Him, and how it separates the soul from Him. He knows not the hearts of others, and he does not judge them. But he knows something of the evil of his own heart; he knows that he is to be judged according to his light-according to what he has, and not according to what he has not; and, judging by that measure, considering how much has been given to him, he knows, he feels, that a doubt, a misgiving, an evil thought, a carnal impulse, involves him-with his light, and with the proofs of God's love in Christ towards him which have been brought home to his heart-in far greater sin than belongs to the grosser offences of less instructed men. 21 Tim. i. 15.

1 Prov. xxx. 2.

I

He reasons also, that if he, with eyes blinded by self-love, is able to see so much of the plague of his own heart, what must be the sight presented to the view of the pure and holy God, who sees far more defilement in the best of our duties, than we ever saw in the worst of our sins! What man of wakeful conscience is there, who, when he looks well to the requirements of God's holy law—when he meditates upon the essential holiness of the divine character-when he considers his own neglected means and mercies-when he sees how the remaining depravities of his nature have defiled his holiest things— and knows how unthankful, how wayward, how rebellious, his heart has often been, is not compelled to smite upon his breast and cry out, Behold, I am vile; what shall I answer Thee ?' Ah, it is well for him that he is not required to answer. Through the cloud of sin and grief, he hears that voice which it is life to hear, 'Son of man, be not afraid.' This is He who has taken the burden not only of his cares, but of his sins. This is his Beloved; this is his Friend. All is well.

Every one acquainted with the East will see how thoroughly characteristic of eastern manners is Mephibosheth's address to David, under the circumstances in which he was placed. In ordinary conversation, nobles and princes call themselves 'your slaves,' and speak of themselves as unworthy even to sit at the feet of their visitors. A matter-of-fact Englishman scarcely knows what to make of the profound respect and honour shown him by men of rank in the East, and the terms of abject humility they employ in reference to themselves. This trait is especially observed when a man of position happens to be detected in an attempt to defraud or to wrong one,-a circumstance by no means uncommon. I remember the governor of a district once saying to me, when I exposed his villany, ‘I am as a very swine before your highness.' The language of the East is essentially hyperbolical. The people perfectly understand it to be so.