And King Jehoram went out of Samaria the same time, and numbered all Israel, etc.

I. Here we have WORLDLY RULERS IN GREAT TRIAL. "And King Jehoram went out of Samaria the same time, and numbered all Israel. And he went and sent to Jehoshaphat the King of Judah, saying, The King of Moab hath rebelled against me." The revolt of Moab threatened the ruin of Jehoram and his empire, and he, smitten with alarm, numbers, or rather, musters, all Israel, and hurries to Jehoshaphat to seek his aid. They, with their armies, go forth to meet in battle their enemy on a seven days' journey, enduring the privation of water for themselves and their cattle. At the end of their journey, disheartened and exhausted, they reached a crisis of terrible anxiety and danger. Worldly rulers have their trials. "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." What terrible ends in past ages kings have come to! and today all the thrones of Europe seem to be tottering to their fall. Providence destines that a man who aspires to the highest office must pay a terrible price for it. The trials of high office, added to the natural trials of man as man, are often overwhelming. Here we have worldly rulers in great trial -

II. SEEKING HELP FROM A GODLY MAN. "But Jehoshaphat said, Is there not here a prophet of the Lord, that we may inquire of the Lord by him? And one of the King of Israel's servants answered and said, Here is Elisha," etc. Mark the cry, "Is there not here a prophet of the Lord?" The question is answered, and the three kings - those of Israel, of Judah, and of Edom - go in earnest quest of him. They "went down to him." This:

1. Proved their instinctive belief in the existence of one God, the Maker and Manager of worlds. Man always, in overwhelming distress, turns away from his systems and theories, and looks up to the Everlasting One.

2. Proved their faith in the power of a truly good man with that God. This is common; skeptics and worldlings on their death-beds are continually sending for those to visit them whom they believe to be men of God. The evil must ever bow before the good. What an illustration we have of this in the case of the two hundred and seventy-five men on board the ship tossed in the dangerous tempest on her way from Caesarea to Rome, with the Apostle Paul on board! Paul was a poor prisoner in chains, and the passengers were made up of soldiers and merchants and men of science; but to whom did they look in the turmoil? Paul, who at the outset, when "the south wind blew softly," was nothing in that vessel, became the moral commander during the tempest. Amidst the wild roaring of the elements, the cries of his fellow-voyagers, the crashes of the plunging ship, the awful howl of death, in all he walked upon the creaking deck with a moral majesty, before which captain, merchant, soldier, and centurion bowed with loyal awe. So it has ever been; so it must ever be. The good show their greatness in trials, and in their trials, the evil, however exalted their worldly position, are compelled to appreciate them. How often do the world's great men on death-beds seek the attendance, sympathies, counsel, and prayers of those godly ones whom they despised in health! - D.T.

The King of Moab's sacrifice a picture of the world's sacrifices. The King of Moab was besieged in Kirharaseth by the allied armies of Israel, and Judah, and Edom. Finding himself hard pressed, he resolved upon a sortie, in hopes of regaining the open country. Selecting seven hundred of the choicest of his troops, he headed an assault against the lines of the King of Edom, but was driven back. Turning in despair to his counsellors, says a Jewish legend, he inquired how it was that such feats of valour could be done by the men of Israel, and how such miracles were wrought in their behalf; to which his counsellors replied, that they sprang from Abraham, who had an only son, and offered him in sacrifice to God. "Then I, too, have an only son," said the King of Moab. "I also will go and offer him up as a sacrifice to my god;" upon which, as it is stated in sacred history, "he took his eldest son that should have reigned in his stead, and offered him for a burnt offering upon the wall." It is not probable that the explanation of the Rabbis is correct. More than likely, as already has been hinted, the act of Mesha was done out of pure, blind, debasing superstition — as a peace-offering or bloody propitiation to the Moabitish war-god, Chemosh. Philo tells us it was a custom among the ancients, in times of great national disaster, instead of all being devoted to destruction, for those who had the rule in either town or country to give up the well-beloved child of their families to be put to death, as a ransom price to secure the favour of the gods (cf. Tennyson's poem, "The Victim." In a time of plague and famine the gods, when consulted, answer —

The king is happy in child and wife.

Take you his nearest; take you his dearest: give us a life.

Cf. also the speech of Caiaphas in John 11:49, 50); and, doubtless, this was the custom in accordance with which the sheep-master offered up his son. Thus it was a picture of the way in which the unbelieving world has all along endeavoured to make peace with God. "How shall I obtain forgiveness? how ever shall a man be justified before God?" is the universal cry of the human heart; and thousands upon thousands in every age have answered it like Mesha: "By giving the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul." In heathen lands how many myriads of little children have fallen victims to this foul superstition? As if the guilt already incurred by a sinner could be wiped away by the simple process of contracting more! Let us thank God that even those among us who have not yet obtained forgiveness have been delivered from this miserable delusion. At the same time, there is room for inquiring if the dregs, at least, of that very superstition which made a victim of the son of Mesha on the wall of Kirharaseth, be not remaining with us. Do we not sometimes offer, as our atoning sacrifice, with a view to purchase heaven's favour, if not the fruit of our bodies, the fruit of our souls — our good deeds, our moral lives, our excellent dispositions, our prayers, our praises, etc.? They are as much a sacrifice of superstition as was that of Mesha. The only difference is, that Mesha's sacrifice was offered to an idol; whereas ours is presented to the living God. If there be another point of difference, it is this, that Mesha knew no better, whereas we are well assured that all such sacrifices are vain.

(T. Whitelaw, M. A.)