these faithful servants of God awaited tidings of the ark of his
covenant. How portentous soever might be the cloud which hung over their
own happiness, they deemed it of small importance in comparison with the
honor of Jehovah. The messenger came, but who shall portray the scene
when he rendered his tidings!

* * * * *

In a darkened chamber, whither death, clothed in unwonted horrors, has
suddenly come for the fourth victim of that doomed family, lies the
subject of our meditations, panting under his iron grasp. The
afflictions of her life are now consummated. The husband of her youth,
his follies and faults against her, now are forgotten in the bitter
thought that _he is dead_, has gone unrepentant to the bar of God to
give account of his priesthood--her venerable father-in-law alone, with
no friend to cheer his dying agonies, has also departed from earth--her
people are defeated in battle, and worse than all, the ark of God is
fallen into the hands of the uncircumcised Philistines--who doubtless
glory as if Dagon had conquered the invincible Jehovah. What to her are
the pangs and throes under which her tortured body labors? She heeds
them not. Pitying friends endeavor to rouse her from her dying lethargy,
by the most glad tidings a Hebrew woman could learn, "Fear not; for thou
hast borne a son!" But she answers not. Shorter and shorter grows her
breath--nearer and nearer she approaches the eternal shore. But she is a
mother, and though every other tie is sundered, and she is dying of the
wounds which the cruel breaking of those heart strings has caused, she
feels one cord drawing her to her new-born child, and asks that he may
be brought. It is too much! Why was he born? No cheering thought comes
with his presence. Nor joy nor honor are in store for him. Call him
Ichabod, (without glory) she gasps with feeble accents, "for the glory