Every town, as they pass,
replenishes their ranks, until, as they approach Shiloh, they are
increased to a mighty multitude. It is a time of joy. Songs and shouts
rend the air, and unwonted gladness reigns. All ages and conditions are
here, and every variety of human form and face. Let us draw near to one
family group. There is something more than ordinarily interesting in
their appearance. The father has a noble mien as he walks on, conversing
gaily with his children, answering their eager questions, and pointing
out the objects of deepest import to a Jew as they draw near the
Tabernacle. The children are light-hearted and gay, but the mother's
countenance does not please us. We feel instinctively that she is not
worthy of her husband; and especially is there an expression wholly
incongruous with this hour of harmony and rejoicing. While we look, she
lingers behind her family, and speaks to one, who, with slow step and
downcast looks, walks meekly on, and seems as if she pondered some deep
grief. Will she whisper a word of comfort in the ear of the sorrowful?
Ah, no. A mocking smile is on her lips, which utter taunting words, and
she glances maliciously round, winking to her neighbors to notice how
she can humble the spirit of one who is less favored than herself. "What
would you give now to see a son of yours holding the father's hand, or a
daughter tripping gladly along by his side? Where are your children,
Hannah? You surely could not have left them behind to miss all this
pleasure? Perhaps they have strayed among the company? Would it not be
well to summon them, that they may hear the father's instructions, and
join in the song which we shall all sing as we draw near to Shiloh?"
Cruel words! and they do their work.
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