supreme, and clinging hands that would hold back the pilgrim have to
be disengaged. If a man realises God's hold on him, he feels all
others relaxed. The magnetism of the divine command overcomes
gravitation, and lifts him high above earth. The life of faith ever
begins as that of 'the Father of the Faithful' began, with the
solemn recognition of a divine will which separates. Further, Abram
saw plainly what he had to leave, but not what he was to win. He had
to make a venture of faith, for 'the land that I will shew thee' was
undefined. Certainly it was somewhere, but where was it? He had to
fling away substance for what seemed shadow to all but the eye of
faith, as we all have to do. The familiar, undeniable good of the
present has to be waived in favour of what 'common sense' calls a
misty possibility in the future. To part with solid acres and get
nothing but hopes of an inheritance in the skies looks like
insanity, and is the only true wisdom. 'Get thee out' is plain; 'the
land that I will shew thee' looks like the doubtful outlines seen
from afar at sea, which may be but clouds.

But Abram had a great hope blazing in front, none the less bright or
guiding because it all rested on the bare promise of God. It is the
prerogative of faith to give solidity and reality to what the world
thinks has neither. The wanderer who had left his country was to
receive a land for his own; the solitary who had left his kindred
was to become the founder of a nation; the unknown stranger was to
win a great name,--and how wonderfully that has come true! Not only
was he to be blessed, but also to be a blessing, for from him was to
flow that which should bless all the earth,--and how transcendently
that has come true! The attitude of men to him (and to the universal
blessing that should descend from him) was to determine their
position in reference to God and 'blessings' or 'cursings' from him.