It seems that Caleb, the good old man, had given as a wedding present to his daughter a piece of land that was mountainous, and, sloping southward toward the deserts of Arabia, it was swept by some very hot winds. It was called “a south land.”
But Achsah wants an addition of property; she desires a piece of land that is well watered and fertile.
Now, it is no wonder that Caleb, standing amid the bridal party, his eyes so full of tears because his daughter was going away that he could hardly see her at all, gives her more than she asks. She said to him: “Thou hast given me a south land; give me also springs of water.” And he gave her the upper springs and the nether springs.
That passage occurs in the fifteenth chapter of the Book of Joshua, nineteenth verse, but I never saw it till a little while ago; and as I came upon it I said: “If God will give me grace, I shall preach a sermon on that before long.”
The fact is that, as Caleb, the father, gave Achsah, the daughter, a south land, so God gives to us His world. I am very thankful that He has given it to us.
But I am like Achsah in the fact that I am not satisfied with the portion. Trees, flowers, grasses and blue skies are very well in their places; but he who has naught except this world for a portion has no portion at all. It is a mountainous land, sloping off toward the desert of sorrow, swept by fiery siroccos. It is “a south land”--a poor portion for any man who tries to put trust in it.
The Damascus of Bible times still stands, with a population of 135,000 people. It was a gay city of white and glistering architecture, its minarets and crescents and domes playing with the light of the morning sun; embowered in groves of olive, citron, orange and pomegranate; a famous river plunging its brightness into the scene--a city by the ancients styled “a pearl surrounded by emeralds.”
A group of horsemen are advancing upon that city. Let the Christians of the place hide, for that cavalcade coming over the hills is made up of persecutors.
Their leader is small of stature and unattractive in some respects, as leaders sometimes are insignificant in person--witness the Duke of Wellington and Dr. Archibald Alexander. But there is something very intent in the eye of the man at the head of this troop, and the horse he rides is lathered with the foam of a long and a quick travel of 135 miles. He cries “Go ’long” to his steed, for those Christians must be captured and must be silenced, and that religion of the cross must be annihilated.