§ 5. The character and the design of the book.
It has long been a question which has excited much interest among those who have written on this book, what is the nature ot the poem? That the body of the work is poetic, admits of no doubt; and an attempt was early made to determine the department of poetry to which it belonged. With some, it has been regarded as a regular drama; with others, as an epic poem; and laborious efforts have been made to show, that in its form, spirit, and arrangement, it comes within the limits usually assigned to these kinds of composition. But it cannot be doubted that undue importance has been attached to this question; nor can it be any more doubted that it cannot fairly be classed with either. It stands by itself — a poem, framed without reference to the Grecian rules of art; composed and published long before the laws of composition were reduced to order, and having, in fcict, the characteristics of neither the epic nor the drama. There is nothing that bears an exact resemblance to it in Grecian, in Roman, or in modern literature. As a composition, it has little that resembles the Iliad, the JEneid, the Jerusalem Delivered, or the Paradise Lost. The design of the author was not to excite interest in the fortunes of the principal person or hero of the poem, nor to exhibit characteristic traits in the other personages introduced, nor to conduct a regular action to a determined and important result — as in an epic poem. As little can it be regarded as a regular drama. In its dialogue, indeed, and in the tragic interest which encompasses the character of Job, it has some resemblance to the drama; but this resemblance is incidental to the purpose of the author, and not a part of his main design. " If the word" [drama], says Eichhorn, Einleit. § 640, " be taken in its most simple meaning, as denoting a dialogue, I would not contend with any one about the name. But if the word be taken according to the modern acceptation, the poem is not a drama. The drama, according to the modern conceptions, was entirely unknown to the Orientals, and is so little in accordance with their views and customs, that the Arabians, after they become acquainted with the Grecian dramatic learning, would not introduce it among themselves. Casiri, Biblioth, Arab. Escur. T. 1, p. 85. All action is wanting in this poem; for the prologue and epilogue, where there is some action, do not pertain properly to the poem." On the question, whether it has the properties of an epic poem, the reader may consult also Eichhorn, Einleit. § 640, vol, v., pp. 189, fgg. Indeed, this whole controversy, to what particular department of poetry this work belongs, which has been waged for centuries almost, has all the characteristics of a logomachy, and, if determined, would do little in explanation of the book. Those who are disposed to prosecute the inquiry, may find a full discussion in Lovvth's Lectures on Hebrew Poetry, Lect. xxxii-xxxiv; Warburton's Divine Legation, B. VL § 2; Herder's Heb. Poetry, Dial. IV. 5; and Dr. Good's Introduction.
Instead of entering into the controversy respecting the nature of the poem, it will be more useful to state what seems to be the design of the book, and the jTonw which the poem actually presents. Having this object before the mind distinctly, it will be easy for any one to give it such a classification in the various departments of poetry, as shall seem to him to be most accordant with truth. In order to understand this poem, it is important to have before the mind a clear conception of the peculiarities of the poetry of the Hebrews. I shall, therefore, enter here into a somewhat detailed explanation of a subject that is important to every student of the Scriptures.
Much has been written on the subject of Hebrew poetry, and yet there is no department of Scriptural investigation which has been pursued with less encouraging success. Almost nothing has been done to throw light on it since the time of Lowth, and it must be admitted that he has left many questions almost entirely unsettled. It is still asked, what constitutes the peculiarity of Hebrew poetry? Is it to be found in rhythm? Are the various kinds of poetry, which occur in the writings of other nations, to be found in the compositions of the Hebrews? How does their poetry differ from the more elevated parts of their prose writings? And as the one sometimes seems to slide insensibly into the other, how shall it be known where the one ends and the other begins?
In regard to these questions, it may be observed,
(1.) That the poetry of the Hebrews is not constituted by rhyme. The same remark, it is obvious, might be made respecting the poetry of all other people. Rhyme, or the occurrence of similar sounds at the close of the lines, is an artifice of modern origin, and of doubtful advantage. The reader need not be informed thut it does not occur in Homer or Hesiod; in Virgi) or Ovid; in the Paradise Lost, or in the Task. The highest kind of poetry exists without rhyme, and it has been made a question whether its use might not have been dispensed with ahogether.
It is certain that rhyme does not constitute the peculiarity of Hebrew poetry; for in the few cases where it occurs in the Hebrew Scriptures, it seems to have been the result of accident rather tliaii jesign. Something like rhyme can, indeed, be discovered in cases
Yehovah, al beappekft thokihheni;
Ma aiiosh ki thizkerennu,
Uben adam ki thiphqedhennu. Ps. viii 5
Shalahh nielek vaiyattirehu,
In Isa. X. 6, the two subdivisions of the first clause of the verse rhyme together:
Begny hh^neph ashallehhennu, Veal am ibriithi atzavvennu.
KiillAnu kattzon tainu Ish ledharko paninu.
So the two last clauses in Isa. i. 9, xliv. 3, and Ps. xlv. 8. The two principal clauses of the verse rhyme in Prov. vi. 1, 2, Job vi. 9,!sa. i. 29. In one instance three rhymes are to be found in a sentence, as in Isa. i. 25 •
Veashibah yadhi alaik, Veetzropli kabbor siggdik, Veasirah kol bedhilaik.
Other instances of a similar kind may be found in the Dissertation of Theodore Ebert on the rules of Hebrew measure and rhythm, in Ugolin's Thes. Sac. Ant., torn. xxxi. pp. 20, 21. The cases, however, which occur in the poetry of the Hebrews where rhyme at the end of verses is apparent, are too few to lead us to suppose that it was designed by the writers, and they are probably only such as would occur had an effort to write in the form of rhyme never been known.
(2.) The poetry of the Hebrews is not constituted by rhythm. Rhythm has reference to the admeasurement of the lines of poetry by feet and numbers, and relates to the length and shortness of the syllables, and vo the regular succession of one after another. It is the rule in composition which aims to reduce its various and resisting elements to unity and harmony, De Wette, Einlei. pp. 51,52. The rules in regard to this pertain to quantity, inflection, accentuation, and the arrangement of the members and parts of a period. Metre of some kind has been regarded as almost necessary to poetry, and the care of the ancient Greek and Latin poets in regard to it is well known. It has been made a question of much interest whether such laws prevail in the Hebrew poetry; and whether, if it ever existed, it is possible to trace it now. Carpzov, Ebert, and Lowth, maintained that such metre or rhythm must have existed, though it is now lost to us. Lowth (Lectures on Hebrew Poetry, III.) maintains that " the Hebrew writings are not only animated with the true poetic spirit, but are in some degree confined to numbers;" that properties altogether peculiar to metrical composition are found; that the Hebrew poets use, like the Greeks, '* glosses," or expressions taken from foreign languages, and adopt a peculiar form in the termination of words, so as to form a poetical dialect; but that as to the " quantity, rhythm, or modulation," it is hopeless now to attempt to recover it, " the true pronunciation being now lost." Similar views are expressed by Pfeiffer (Ueber d. Musik d. alten Heb. p. xvi.); Bauer (Einleit. ins A. T. p. 358, sq.); Jahn (Bibl. Arch. Th. I. B. I.); and Meyer, Hermen. des A. T ii. 329. Comp. De Wette, Einleit. p. 45. Josephus affirmed that in Hebrew poetry are to be found both hexameter and tetrameter verses. Ant. B. II. ch. xvi. § 4; B. VII. ch. xii. § 3. " Philo, in several passages of his writings, maintains that Moses was acquainted with me- tre." Nordheimer, Heb. Gram. vol. ii. p. 319. Gomarus, Hare, Greve, and several others of equal celebrity, have sought to ascertain the laws of metre in Hebrew poetry, but without success. If it ever existed, it is now hopeless to attempt to recover it. There is little evidence that we have the correct pronunciation of the language; the laws of metre are now unknown, and there is no way of ascertaining them. Indeed, the evidence is not satisfactory that any such laws ever existed. The assertions of Josephus and Philo can be easily accounted for. They were Jews, proud of their own language; and supposing, justly, that the poetry of their sacred bards was equal to any which could be produced in the writings of the Romans or the Greeks, they were anxious to show that it had all the properties of poetry existing among them. Yet in their time, it was a settled rule among the Greeks and Romans that poetry was known by its rhythm, by its accurate and careful admeasurement of num.bers, and its harmonious and graceful flow of measure. Nothing was more natural, therefore, than that they should affirm that the same thing existed in the Hebrew poetry, and that portions of it could be adduced which for beauty and grace of measure would equal the boasted productions of Greece and Rome. That specimens might have been produced capable of being measured by feet, no one can disprove; and yet this may not have been at all a leading object in the poetry of the Hebrews. It should be remembered, that the Hebrew poetry is the oldest now extant; that it was composed long before the artificial rules knowi. in Greece and Rome were in existence; that it was designed to express the sentiments of the earliest period of the world when all was fresh and new; and that we are to look for less attention to the rules of composition than in a more cultivated and artificial age. Indications of art there are indeed in the alphabetical poems, and in the carefully constructed parallelisms, but it is not the art of rhythm or metre.
(3.) It is not a characteristic of Hebrew poetry, that it is formed according to the regular laws of composition which fetter the poets of more modern times. There are, indeed, lyric and elegiac poems of exquisite beauty and tenderness. But there is no regular epic poem, for although their early history furnished finer materials for such a poem than the occurrences celebrated in either the Iliad or the ^neid, it seems never to have occurred to them to attempt to mould those materials into the form of a heroic poem. The Hebrews had no dramatic poetry. The stage was unknown among them, and indeed was unknown among the Greeks until long after the time when the most celebrated of the Hebrew poets lived. We are not to look, therefore, for the characteristics of Hebrew poetrv in the stately modes of composition which occur in other languages.
If it be asked, then, what are the characteristics of Hebrew poetry; how does it differ from prose; how can its existence be determined, we may reply, (I.) It consists in the nature of the subjects which are treated; in the ornate and elevated character of the style; in the sententious manner of expression; and in certain peculiarities in the structure of sentences and the choice of words which are found only in poetry, which will be noticed hereafter. (2.) It is the language of nature in the early periods of the world, expressing itself in the form of surprise, astonishment, exultation, triumph, — the outpouring of a mind raised by excitement above its ordinary tone of feeling. The prose writer expresses himself in a calm and tranquil manner when free from the influence of strong excitement. His sedate emotions are reflected in the language which he uses. The poet is animated. His mind is excited. Every faculty of the soul is brought into exercise. His heart is full; his imagination glows; his associations are rapid; and the soul pours forth its emotions in language figurative, concise, abrupt. The boldest metaphors are sought; the terms expressing deepest intensity of feeling suggest themselves to the mind; or language most beautiful, tender, and soothing, expresses the emotions of sorrow or of love. It is in the Hebrew poetry more strikingly than anywhere else, that we perceive the evidence of the intensity with which objects struck the imagination in the early periods of the world; and nowhere do we find such examples of sublimity and power as there. (3.) The language of poetry is distinguished from prose by the effoi't which is made to express the ideas, and by the form which that effort gives. Sometimes we have merely?i glimpse of the thought or the object, which it is left for the imagination to fill up. Sometimes the thought is repeated, thrown into a new form, modified, or merely echoed from the first attempt to express it. The mind, full of the conception, labors to give utterance to it, and in the effort there may be repetition, or a slight variation in the words, or an attempt to show its force by striking contrast. It is from this effort of the mind that there was originated the principal peculiarity of Hebrew poetry, exhibited iii the form o^ parallelism.
This general characteristic of poetry in all languages, manifests itself in some peculiar form in accordance with the character of a people, or with prevailing taste, or in imitation of some distinguished writer. Some artificial rules are adopted, in accordance with which the poetic spirit is manifested. In one country or age this may be by rhyme; in another, by the rhythm of measured feet or numbers; at one time, it may be by simple ' blank verse;' at another, by the smoothness and harmony of similar endings. The elegy, the eclogue, the pastoral, the lyric, the tragic, the epic, mav all be employed, and in all the poetic spirit may reign, Tlie Greeks and Romans employed rhythm, and reduced the laws of poetic feet and numbers to the severest rules; rhyme has been since mvented for similar purposes, and occupies a large phice in modern poetry; while another form still may be found in the Hebrew, the Arabic, and the Persian poetry. In some countries and times the artificial rules may be few and little complicated; in others they may be numerous and wrought up with the highest skill of art. One mode may be adapted to the taste of one people, and another to that ci another; and still the essential characteristics of poetry be found in all. Nay, one artificial mode of poetry that is now obsolete may be in itself as reasonable and valuable as another that is retained, and no reason can be given except thnt the tch^tes of men change by time, circumstances, and fashion. The parallelism of the Hebrew may be as poetic in its character, and as rational in itself, as the rhyme; perhaps it may be better adapted to express the conceptions of the highest kind of poetry. The apparently cumbrous versification of Spenser may have as much poetic merit as the numbers of Pope, and the time may come when that stanza shall be restored to the honor which it once possessed as the medium of the poetic sentiment.
We are not, therefore, to judge Hebrew poetry by our artificial forms. We are not to say, because it lacks the ornament of rhyme, or because it cannot now be reduced to the laws of poetic numbers which are applied to Homer or Virgil, that therefore it is destitute of the true spirit of poetry. We are to inquire whether it have the elevated conceptions, the sublime thoughts, the grandeur of im agery, the tenderness and sweetness, the beauty of description, and the power to rouse the soul, which are every where recognized as the characteristics of poetry. We are then to inquire, what modes the ancient bards chose as the forms in which they should embody their conceptions; — perhaps as an incidental inquiry we are to ask whether tliose forms are not adapted to the age and land in wl'.ich they occur, as really as the forms now most admired may be to our own. This inquiry has never been pursued as it should have been, and this is not the place in which to prosecute it. The inquiry which is proper here is, only, in what artificial forms the spirit of poetry among the Hebrews was embodied and preserved What rules had they according to which to record their poetic conceptions?
Hebrew poetry appears, then, under the following artifici.al forms. 1. In an alphahvtical arrangeinnit. We have something lik^ thi in the acrostic, where each line begins with a letter of a certain word. The Hebrew poets sometimes adopted a similar method, by commencing each line with one of tlie letters of the alphabet; oi where every alternate verse began with a succeeding letter; or where a series of verses have the same initial letters. This artificial mode of composition appears with several modifications.
(a.) Commonly each verse begins with one of the successive letters of the alphabet, and the number of the verses is, therefore, tlie same as the number of Hebrew letters. This occurs in Prov! xxxi. 10-31, where the order of the letters is exactly observed, and Lam. i. This is the case, also, in Psalm xxv., except that two verses begin with N; and none with n; the 1 and p are wanting, and two verses begin with ^; and at the close after the n a line beginning with S occurs. So in Lam. ii. 4, except that S and:f are exchanged in their places. Li like manner in Psalm xxxiv., which is constructed on this plan, the 1 is wanting, and the Psalm concludes with a line beginning with S. In Ps. cxlv. the order is exactly observed, except that 3 is wanting.
(6.) In Ps. xxxvii. there are evidences of a more artificial structure, though it is not wholly regular. The Psalm consists of forty verses, and it would seem that it was the original conception that the letter D should precede each of the letters of the alphabet in the beginning of the verse. The order of letters is the following: N, s,:n, 1, ^, ^, ^ fi, ^ 1,1, t,.vt, n, n, -j, 3,., ^ =, ^:d,:d, 5, 3,:d, D, 3,:j. b^ n,:j, ^ p, ^, i, ^, i^ 1,1. The Psalm, it will at once be seen, is quite irregular, though the general order of the letters of the alphabet is observed! It is now impossible to explain the cause of the irregularity.
(f.) Another form is found in Ps. cxi. cxii. In these Psalms the half-verses are alphabetically arranged, or every half-verse or member beghis with a new letter of the alphabet. These Psalms are regular in their structure, and the series occurs in the exact order of the letters of the alphabet.
(d.) In Lamentations iii. and Ps. cxix. another alphabetical form still more artificial appears. In Lamentations three verses in succession begin with one of the letters of the alphabet, followed by three more beginning with the succeeding letter, and so on through the alphabet; except that, as in chs. ii. and iv., S and 25 change places. In P&alm cxix. the same arrangement extends through eight successive verses, dividing the whole Psalm into alphabeticlil strophes of that number of verses.
What was the dcsig?i of this arrangement is now unknown. Michaelis supposes that it was at first a device employed in the funeral dirge to aid mourners; and De Wette, that it was owing to a vitiated taste. Lowth supposes that it was confined to those compositions which consisted of detached maxims, or sentiments without any express order or connection, and that the whole ar- ••angement was to assist the memory. It seems to me that it must be regarded as a mere matter of taste — and certainly of taste quite as elevated and rational as the rhyme or the acrostic are with moderns. That it was not adopted to aid the memory is apparent, because it is found in very few of the poetical compositions of the Hebrews; while if this were the object, we should expect to find it extended to all. For a similar reason it could not have been designed, as Michaelis supposes, to aid in funeral dirges; for it is found in no funeral dirges, unless the " Lamentations" be regarded as such. Nor can the supposition of Lowth be correct, for in Ps. XXV., xxxvii., cxi., cxii., cxlv. there is as close a connection of sentiment as occurs in any of the Psalms; and indeed some of them are quite remarkable for the continuity of thought and singleness of design. There are many artificial modes of poetry in all languages which can be accounted for on no other principle than that they are mere matters of taste; and they who censure this form of Hebrew poetry, should inquire whether the censure shculd be w^ithheld from many forms of poetry existing in the best writings of oiodern times.
H. An artificial form of poetry is observable in a few instances where a complex rhythmical period or strophe occurs. The peculiarity of this form is, that the same verse or sentiment is repeated at somewhat distant intervals, or after the recurrence of about the same number of verses. Whether this intercalary verse (Germ. Schaltvers) was designed to aid the memory, or to be sung by a part of a choir, or was regarded as a mere poetic ornament, cannot now be determined. An instance occurs in Ps xlii., xliii. After the first four verses, the following occurs: " Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance." After five verses, the same verse occurs with a slight variation, and after four verses more it occurs again in the same manner, showing that it was intended to close a strophe, or large period. The same thing occurs in Ps. cvii,, where the Psalm is divided into unequal portions by the recurrence of the same sentiment, " O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men." This occurs after vs. 1-7; vs. 9-14; vs. 16-20; and vs. 22-30. Gesenius supposes that a part of Solomon's Song is composed in the same manner. One instance of this occurs in Isaiah. It is in ch. ix. 8-21, X. 1-4. After each strophe, consisting of four or five verses, the following sentiment is repeated: " For all this his anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still;" ch. ix. 12, 17, 21, x. 4. Amos i. 2-15, ii. 1-6, js constructed in the same artificial manner.
III. A third artificial form of poetry occurs in the rhythm of gradation (De Wette, Stufenrhythmus), and is found mainly in the ' Psalms of Degrees.' It consists in this, that the thought or expression of the preceding verse is resumed and carried forward in the next. An instance of this occurs in Ps. cxxi.:
1. I lift up mine eyes unto the hills;
From whence will vnj help come?
2. My help covieth from Jehovah,
The Creator of heaven and earth.
3. He suffereth not thy foot to be moved;
Thy keeper sbimhereth not.
4. Lo! he slumbereth not, nor sleepeth
5. Jehovah is thy keeper;
Jehovah thy shade is at thy right hand •
6. The sun shall not smite thee by day,
7. Jkhovah preserveth thee from all evil,
8. Jehovah piieserveth thy going out and thy coming in,
From this time forth and for evermore.
These ' Songs of Degrees ' are fifteen in number, extending from Ps. cxx. to cxxxiv. The same characteristics may be found in them all, and it is probable that they derived their name from this artificial structure, and not because they were sung as the tribes were going up to Jerusalem. The song of Deborah (Judges v.) is constructed on this principle, as the following specimens will show:
4. Lord, ichen thou teeniest out of Seir,
When thou marchedst out of the field of Edom, The earth trembled. And the heavens dropped, The clouds also dropped water.
5. The mountains melted hefore the Lord,
Even that Sinai, from hefore the Lord God of Israel. 7. The inhabitants of the villages ceased^ They ceased in Israel. Until that I Deborah arose. That I arose a mother in Israel
The stars in their courses fought against Si sera
21. The river of Kishon swept them away, That ancient river, the river Kishon.
22. Then were the horse-hoofs broken by means of the prancing s. The prancings of their mighty ones, etc. etc.
An instance of this artificial arrangement occurs in Isa. xxvi. 5, t';:
The lofty city he layeth it low,
Hath laid it loio to the ground.
He hath levelled it to the dust.
The foot shall trample on it.
The feet of the poor, the steps of the needy.
IV. The grand peculiarity of the Hebrew poetry, however, is the parallelism. This form of composition, which seems to us to be artificial in a high degree, consists in the repetition of the main thought usually M'ith some modification. It arose from such circumstances as the following. (1.) The Hebrew poetry, in the main, was composed at a very early period of the world, and at that point of intellectual cultivation when the mind is in a condition to seize only certain simple and general relations of things, and to express them strongly. (2.) The mind is supposed to be struck with wonder and to be highly excited. The object presented is new and strange, and fills the soul with elevated and glowing conceptions. (3.) In this state, the mind naturally expresses itself in short sentences, and is apt merely to repeat the idea. It is not in a condition to observe minute relations, but seeks to express the thought in the most impressive and forcible manner possible. The speaker struggles with language; the words are slow to adapt themselves to the thought; and the principal idea is expressed and dwelt upon with earnestness. The object is to express the glowing conception of the mind; and that object is effected by repetition, by the addition of a slight circumstance, by comparison, or by contrast with some other subject. Sometimes in this effort to express the main thought, the secondary expression will be little more than the echo of the first attempt; sometimes it will greatly excel it in force and brilliancy; sometimes some striking and beautiful conception will be appended; sometimes, to heighten the impression, the main idea will be expressed in contrast with some other. In all these cases the form of short sentences will be preserved; though the number and modes of the efforts made to give expression to the main thought may be greatly varied. These circumstances gave rise to the parallelism, which became the favorite form of poetry among the Hebrews, and which abounds so much in every part of the Old Testament.
Various divisions have been made of the parallelism, and to a considerable extent those divisions must be arbitrary. Lowth (Prel. Diss, to Isaiah, and Lectures on Hebrew Poetry, xix.) reduces the parallelism to three kinds — synonymous, antithetic, and synthetic. This division has been adopted by Nordheimer (Gram, vol. ii. pp. 323, seq.), and by writers on Hebrew poetry in general De Wette (Einleit. 56-63) has suggested four kinds of parallelism, as embracing the forms which exist in the Old Testament. They are (I.) when there is an equality of words; (II.) when the words are not equal: divided into (1) the siinpJe unequal parallelism, and (2) the complex unequal parallelism, embracing («) the synonomous, (h) the antithetic, and (r) the synthetic; (3) instances where the simple member is disproportionably small, (4) cases where the complex member is increased to three or four prepositions; and (5) cases where tliere is a short clause or supplement, for the most part in the second member. III. Parallelism when both the members are complex; embracing also (a) the synonymous; (h) the antithetic; and (t) the syntlietic. IV. Rhythmical pai^allelism, when it consists not in the thought but in the form of the period. Under this last form of parallelism, De Wette supposes that the Lamentations of Jeremiah should be nearly all ranged.
Without adopting precisely either of the arrangements above referred to, the following classification will probably include all the modes in which the parallelism occurs in the Scriptures, being substantially the same as that of Lowth.
(1.) 27/e synonyinous parallelism. In this, the second clause is a repetition of the first. This occurs under considerable variety in regard to the length of the members.
(a) The repetition is nearly in the same words, or where a single word may be changed. Thus in Isa. xv. 1, where the subject alone is changed:
Verily, bj a nightly assault, Ar of Moab is laid waste and ruined ' Verily, by a nightly assault, Kir of Moab is laid waste and ruined
In Prov. vi. 2 the verb only is changed:
Thou art snared with the words of thy mouth; Thou art taken with the words of thy mouth.
Sometimes an idea is only partially expressed in the first clause; in the second this is repeated, and the sentence brought to a close, as in Ps. xciv. 1:
God of vengeance — Jehovah! God of vengeance — shine forth.
In Ps. xciii. 3 the entire sentence is again repeated in a varied form:
The floods have lifted up, O Jehovah! The floods have lifted up their voice; The floods lift up their waves.
(b) In this parallelism there is often an equality in the words, at least in their number. Thus in the song of Lamech, Gen. iv. 23:
Adah and Zillah, hear my voice I Wives of Lamech, receive my speech! If 1 liave slain a man to my wounding, Aud a young man to my hurt; If Cain was avenged seven times, Then Lamech — seventy times seven.
Doth the wild ass bray over his grass? Dotli the ox low over his fodder?
Such instances occur often in ihe Scriptures, and perhaps this may be considered the original form of the parallelism.
(c.) In the synonymous parallelism, as in other forms also, there is often a great inequality in the number of the words. These instances seem to have occurred where it was desirable to give nnphasis to the thought by the utmost brevity in one of the members, while, perhaps, in the other member, the thought is dui li upon or repeated. Thus in Ps. Ixviii. 33:
Sing unto God, ye kingdoms of the earth; O sing praises unto Jehovah.
So in Ps. xl. 9, where the simple member is disproportionately small, and the inequality, therefore, still more striking:
I proclaim thy righteousness in the great congregation; Lo! I refrain not my lips! O Lord, thou knovvest!
So in Job X. 1, where the principal emphatic thought is followed by a parallelism, stating what was proper in view of the fact of which he complained:
Therefore will I give loose to my complaints;
I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.
(d) The idea is expressed in the form of a climax, where the thought rises and becomes more emphatic. This climax sometimes is found in the verbs used. Thus in Ps. xxii. 27:
All the ends of the world shall remember, and turn to the Lord; And all tlie kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee
For the sake of emphasis, the verb of the first clause is sometimes placed at the commencement, and the corresponding one of the second at the termination. Isa. xxxv. 3:
Strengthen the weak hands;
And the tottering knees m^ke firm.
A climax in thought often occurs, as in this instance, Isa. liv. 4:
Fear not, for thou shalt not be confounded;
And blush not, for thou shalt not be put to shame:
For thou shalt forget the shame of thy youth,
And the reproach of thy widowhood shalt thou remember no more
From heaven the Lord looks down,
He sees all the sons of men; From his dwelling-place he looks
Upon all the inhabitants of the earth.
When ye spread forth your hands,
'I will hide mine eyes from you; When ye multiply prayers,
Sometimes the second parallelism contains the cause of what is stated in the preceding. Isa. Ixi. 10:
I will greatly rejoice in Jhhovah;
RIy soul shall exult in my God: For he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation; He hath covered me with the mantle of righteousness.
Or the first contains a comparison, and the second the thing compared. Isa. Ixi. 11:
For as the earth putteth forth her tender shoots, And as a garden causes its seed to germinate:
So the Lord Jehovah will cause righteousness to germinate,
And praise before all the nations.
{f.) This form of parallelism — the- synonymous, admits of five lines, and often employs them with great elegance. Thus in Isa. i. 15, quoted above, where the fifth line is given as a reason for what is affirmed in the second and fourth:
And when ye spread forth your hands,
I will hide mine eyes from you; And when ye multiply prayers,
Your hands are full of blood!
In the stanza of five lines the odd" line may come in between the two distichs. Thus in Isa. xlvi. 7:
They bear him upon the shoulder, and they carry him; They set him in his place, and there he standeth;
From his place shall he not remove — Yea, one cries unto him, and he does not answer; Nor save him out of his trouble.
Who is there among you that feareth Jehovah, That obeyeth the voice of his servant,
Who walketh in darkness and seeth no light.'' Let him trust in the name of Jehovah; Let liim stay himself upon his God.
II. A second form of the parallelism is the antithetic, in which the idea contained in the second clause is the converse of that in the first. This appears also with various modifications.
A wise son rejoiceth his father;
But a foolish son is the grief of his mother.
(b.) A form of antithesis occurs in which the second clause is the consequence of the first. Isa. i. 19, 20.
If ye be willing and obedient,
Ye shall eat the good of the land; But if ye refuse and rebel,
Ye shall be devoured with the sword.
The ox knoweth his owner,
And the ass the crib of his master;
My people understand not.
(d.) Sometimes there is an alternate correspondence in the antv thesis. Ps. xliv. 2:
Thou didst drive out the heathen with thy hand,
And plantedst those; Didst destroy the nations.
And enlargedst those. De Wettes translation.
(e.) A double antithetical form of the parallelism is not uncommon in the prophets. A very beautiful parallelism of this kind occurs in Habakkuk iii. 17, 18:
Although the fig-tree shall not blossom,
Neitlier shall fruit be in the vines; The buds of the olive shall fail.
And the fields shall yield no bread; The flock shall be cut off from the fold,
And there shall be no herd in the stall; Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will joy in the God of my salvation.
The bricks are fallen down.
But we will build with hewn stone; The sycamores are cast down,
But we will replace them with cedars.
III. The third form of the parallelism is that which is denominated by Lowth, the synthetic. In this, the parallelism consists only in the similar form of construction; where there is " a correspondence and equality between different propositions in respect to the shape and turn of the whole sentence, such as noun answering to noun, verb to verb, member to member, negative to negative, interrogative to interrogative." Lowth. The poet, instead of merely echoing the former sentiment, or placing it in contrast, enforces his thought by accessory ideas and modifications. A general proposition is stated, and the sentiment is amplified or dwelt upon in detail. Thus in Isa. i. 5-9 the description of the punishment brought upon the Hebrews is continued through several verses, each heightening the effect of the preceding:
The whole head is sick, the whole heart faint,
From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it;
It is wound, and bruise, and running sore;
They have neither pressed it nor bound it up,
Neither hath it been softened with ointment.
Your country is desolate;
Your cities are burnt with fire:
Your land — strangers devour it in your presence,
And it is desolation, like the overturning produced by enemies.
Is not this the fast that I approve:
To loose the bands of wickedness,
To undo the heavy burdens,
And to break asunder every yoke?
Is it not to deal thy bread to tlie hungry.
And to bring the poor that are cast out, into thy house.''
When thou seest the naked that thou clothe him,
And tliat thou hide not thyself from thine own kindred?
A beautiful specimen of this kind of amplification occurs in the powerful passage in Job iii. 3-9, where he curses the day of his birth, and where he amplifies the thought with which he commences in the most impressive and solemn manner:
O that the day might have perished in which I was born.
And the night which said, "A male child is conceived."
Let that day be darkness,
Let not God inquire after it from on high!
Yea, let not the light shine upon it!
Let darkness and the shadow of death stain it;
Let a cloud dwell upon it,
Let whatever darkens the day terrify it!
Examples of this kind of parallelism occur in abundance in the Scriptures, and especially in the Prophets.
Under this head may be included also a species of alternate parallelism, a form of poetic composition not uncommon. The following are specimens. Isa. li. 19:
These two things are come upon thee;
Who shall bemoan thee? Desolation and destruction, famine and the sword;
How shall I comfort thee.'*
That is, taken alternately, desolation by famme, and destruction by the sword. Cant. i. 5:
I am black, but yet beautiful, O daughters of Jerusalem; Like the tents of Kedar, like tJie pavilions of Solomon
That IS, black as the tents of Kedar; beautiful as tne pavilions of Solomon.
Under this head, also, may be mentioned a form of parallelism, of a highly artificial kind, called the introverted parallelism, where the fourth member answers to the first, and the third to the second. An instance of this kind occurs in the New Testament Matth. vii. 6:
Give not that which is holy unto the dogs,
Neither cast ye your pearls before swine; Lest they trample them under their feet, And turn again and rend you.
Here it is the dogs mentioned in the first member which in the fourth it is said would turn and rend them; and the swine which it is said in the third member would trample under their feet the pearls mentioned in the second.
It may be added here, that the Arabic has no parallelism of members, as the Hebrew has, though both the modern Arabic and Persian have rhyme. Pococke, however, regards the Arabic metre as a late invention, and probably every where rhyme was invented long after poetry had existence in other forms.
In reading the Bible, it is of importance to understand the laws of poetic parallelism, for it often furnishes important facilities in interpretation. One member often expresses substantially the same sense as its parallel, and difficult words and phrases are thus rendered susceptible of easy explanation. The subject of Hebrew poetry is confessedly one of the most difficult pertaining to the study of the Bible, and all that is hoped from the above observations is to furnish some principles which may be applied in the study of the sacred Scriptures. Those who are desirous of pursuing the investigation further may consult the following works:
Lowth's Introduction to Isaiah, and Lectures on Hebrew Poetry, particularly Lee. xix.: The Spirit of Hebrew Poetry, by J. G. Herder, translated by James Marsh, 2 vols. 12mo.; De Wette, Einleitung in die Psalmen (translated in the Biblical Repository, vol. iii. p. 445, seq.): Nordheimer's Hebrew Grammar, vol. ii. p. 320, seq.; Theod. Eberti Poetica Hebraica; Davidis Lyra, autore Francisco Gomaro; Augusti Pfeifferi Diatribe de Poesi Heb.; and Francis Hare on the Psalms, found in Ugolin's Thesau. Sac Ant., tom. xxxi.
In reference to the poetry in the book of Job, the follovv'ing characteristics are discernible.
1. The leading feature of the Hebrew poetry — the parallelism — is observed with great strictness and perfection. In no part of the Old Testament are there more perfect specimens of this mode of composition. The oarallels are, indeed, in general, of the more simple forms — where the second member corresponds with the first with some slight modification of the meaning; and the instances are very rare, if they occur at all, where the more labored and artificial forms of the parallelism occur. Indeed, it may be doubted whether one instance of the introvn^ted parallelism occurs in the book. This circumstance marks the early age of the poetry, and is an additional consideration to show that the book had an early origin.
II. Besides the parallelism, the poem bears the marks of a regular design or plan iu its composition, and is constructed with a rigid adherence to the purpose which was in the mind of the author. I refer to the tripartite division of the book, and to the regularity observed in that division. The trichotorny appears not only in respect to the longer divisions of the book, but also in respect to most of its minuter subdivisions. Thus we have in the grand division of the book (1.) the prologue; (2.) the poem proper: and (3.) the epilogue, or the conclusion. The poem presents also three leading divisions, (1.) the dispute or controversy of Job and his three friends; (2.) the address of Eiihu, who proffers himself as umpire; and (3.) the address of God, who decides the controversy. In the controversy between Job and his friends, we find the same artificial arrangement. There are three series in the controversy, each having the same order, and without any deviation, except that in the last of the series, Zophar, whose turn it was to speak, fails to respond. No poem in any language exhibits a more artificial structure than this, and as this is the most striking feature in it, it may be proper to exhibit it at one view.
(&) Continuation of the reply of Job, ch. xxvii.-xxxi.
So also in the final address of Job (ch. xxvi.-xxxi,), there are thref speeches, (a) ch. xxvi.; (b) ch. xxvii. xxviii.; [c) ch. xxix.-xxxi. In the speeches of Elihu, there is evidence of a design that a regular number of speeches should be made. The plan seems to have been, that to each of the speakers there should be assigned three speeches. But Zophar, one of the original disputants, had failed when his regular turn came, nnd four speeches are allowed to Elihu. (1.) ch. xxxii. xxxiii.; (2.) ch. xxxiv.; (3.) ch. xxxv.; and (4.) ch. xxxvi. xxxvii. In the controversy, the dispute appears to have been carried on through three days or sessions — perhaps with a considerable interval between them, and the most rigid order was observed during the debate. In like manner Jehovah is introduced as making three addresses, (1.) ch. xxxviii. xxxix.; (2.) ch. xl. 1,2; and (3.) ch. xl. 6-24, ch. xli.; and last of all the epilogue contains a similar subdivision. There is (1.) an account of Job's justification; (2.) his reconciliation with his friends; (3.) his restoration to prosperity, ch. xlii.
'* If," says Prof Stuart (Intro, to the Apocalypse), ** we withdraw our attention from these obvious and palpable trichotomies, in respect to the larger portions of the book, and direct it to the examination of the individual speeches which are exhibited, we shall find the like three-fold division in many of them. If we descend still lower, even down to strophes, we shall there find that a great number consist of three members."
" Thus the economy of this book exhibits a regular and all-pervading series of trichotomies, most of them so palpable that none can mistake them. This seems to settle two things that have been called in question, viz.: first, the highly artificial arrangement of the book; and secondly, that the prologue and the epilogue are essential parts of the work. The great contest about the genuineness of these, and also of the speech of Elihu, might have been settled long ago, had due attention been paid to the trichotomy of the book. It is proper to add, that notwithstanding the highly artificial arrangement of the poem, such is the skill of the writer in the combinations, that every thing appears to proceed in a way which is altogether easy and natural "
Another circumstance evincing artificial arrangement is noticed by Eichhorn, Einleitung, § 640, vol. v. pp 148-150. It is the regular advance in the argument, or the increase (das Wachsende) of zeal and ardor in the debaters. This is seen in the speeches of Job, " In the beginning he will not trust himself to contend with God (ch. ix. 11); then he wishes before his death to prove to him his innocence (ch. xiii. 3); then he sighs after a judicial hearing before God (ch. xvi. 18); then he affirms that it is certain that before his death God will appear to vindicate him (ch. xix. 25); and then at last he solemnly demands of him a judicial investigation." The same is true of the other speakers. " Eliphaz, who begins the controversy with Job, commences with mildness and gentleness; for the passion and heat with which he had heard Job speak, one gladly forgives to a sufferer. With Bildad, who speaks next, every thing is more severe and bitter; the heat of Job had made his friends too warm, and he could not speak to Job with the gentleness and softness evinced by Eliphaz, And so also the manner of the individual speakers rises in warmth and interest. Eliphaz, the first time that he speaks, is mild and forbearing; the second time he is more ardent, and utters reproaches against Job, yet in a manner somewhat covered; but in the third speech he hides nothing, but charges him openly with being a hypocrite. The same thing is observable in the speeches of Bildad. In the beginning of his speeches he is more heated than Eliphaz, yet he condemns him only conditionally (bedingnissweis); in the second he condemns him openly; and in the third, with cool contempt he tramples the sufferer.under foot."
The same artificial mode of composition prevails elsewhere in the poetry of the Hebrews. See it more fully illustrated in the Intro, to Isaiah, §8. Thus we have seven Psalms each verse of which begins Vv^ith a letter of the alphabet in succession'; Ps. xxv., xxxiv., xxxvii., cxi., cxii., cxix,, cxlv. In Ps. cxix. we have this peculiarity, that each paragraph of it consists of eight verses, and tliese eight verses all begin with the same letter of the alphabet. In the book of Lamentations, four chapters out of the five are alphabetic compositions, while ch. iii. exhibits three verses in succession ench one of which begins with the same letter of the alphabet. This artificial mode of composition seems to have been one of the earliest features of Hebrew poetry, and in no part of the Bible is it m<^re perfect than in the book of Job.
HI. The true account of the book of Job, as a poem, is, that it is A PUBLIC DEBATE, couductcd in a poetic form, on a very important question pertaining to the divine government. It is not an epic poem, where the hero is placed in a great variety of interesting and perilous situations, and where the main object is to create an interest in his behalf; it is not a drama, with a regular plot to be gradually developed, and where the dialogue is adopted to inculcate some moral lesson, or to awaken a tragic interest It is a public discussion, with a real case in view, where the question is one ol' great difficulty, and where there is all the interest of reality. The question is fairly understood. The whole arrangement appears to have been made, or tacitly fallen into from a sense of propriety. The discussion is continued, evidently, on successive days, giving a full opportunity to weigh the arguments which had been previously advanced, and to frame a reply. The most respectful attention is paid to what is advanced. There is no rude interruption; no impatience; no disposition to correct the speaker; no outbreak of excited feeling even under the most provoking remarks. The poetic form in the argument is adopted manifestly because it would furnish the opportunity for expressing their sentiments in the most terse, beautiful, and sententious manner, and in a way which could be best retained in the memory, and which was most in accordance with the genius of the age. In all countries, poetry is among the earliest forms of composition; and in Arabia and the East generally, it has been customary to preserve their sentiments in the terse and somewhat proverbial form which is exhibited here.
If conjecture may be allowed in a case where it is now impossible to speak with certainty, and if we may be permitted to judge according to what appears to have been the fact in regard to this remarkable argument, we may imagine that the discussion assumed somewhat of tins form: Job, as related in ch. i. and ii., was suddenly overwhelmed with almost unparalleled calamity. All that he possessed was suddenly swept away; and he was visited with a form of disease of the most distressing nature. Of his character hitherto there had been no doubt. His life had never given occasion to suspect him of insincerity. Three of his friends, apparently intimate with him before this — men of age, and prudence, and large experience, came to him with a full intention of sympathizing with him, and of suggesting to him the usual topics of consolation under trials. The greatness of his calamity, severe beyond what they had anticipated, struck them dumb with amazement, and they remained a long time speechless, apparently contemplating the keenness and the extent of his sufferings. It would be obvious that the case would present a grave one for consideration; that it would be in conflict with many of the maxims which they had cherished, as we learn from their expressions subsequently, about the methods of the divine government with the pious. Here was an individual, esteemed universally as a man of eminent piety, who was now treated as if he were the most vile and abandoned of sinners. Th.\sfact, thus in conflict with their settled views, appears at first to have confounded them, and to have divested them of the power of offering the topics of consolation which they hfad intended. But it was not until Job made his first speech (ch. iii.), bitterly cursing his day, indulging in the language of murmuring and complaint, and wishing for death, that they seem to have had any confirmed suspicion of his insincerity and hypocrisy. That speech, in connection with his remarkable sufferings, so much at variance with all their views of the manner in which God deals with the righteous, seems to have satisfied them that, so far from being, as had been supposed, a man of eminent piety, he was a man of eminent guilt. This, therefore, opened the whole field of debate, and suggested the great question whether the divine government was not conducted on equal principles here; whether a life of piety would not be attended with corresponding prosperity, and whether extraordinary sufferings like these were not demonstrative of corresponding guilt. Either tacitly, or by express arrangement, it seems to have been agreed to discuss this question. "The manner of doing it was the best possible, and was in accordance with every principle of urbanity, justice, and refined feeling. Eliphaz, as the eldest, and as the most experienced and sagacious, led the way in the argument, to be followed, in the same order, during each sitting of the debate, by his two friends. Job, having no one to stand by him, and being the one most deeply concerned in the issue, is allowed to respond to each one of the speakers. Three successive series of arguments in this order gave to each one the privilege of expressing all that he desired to say on the point of debate; thus permitting each one of the friends of Job to speak three times, and Job himself to make nine addresses. It seems to have been understood that the debate should proceed in this order until the third series should be completed, or until one party should cease to speak. The debate continued in fact until Zophar, whose turn it was, failed to speak — thus tacitly acknowledging defeat, and leaving the whole field open, and conceding that no reply could be made to Job. At this stage Elihu, who appears to have been an attentive auditor, comes forward to do what the friends of Job tacitly confessed that they could not do — to reply to what had been advanced by Job. He comes modestly forward, and begs permission to state some considerations which had been suggested to him, and which he supposed would relieve all the difficulty. The divine interposition, unexpected by all except by Job (comp. ch. xix. 25-29, Notes), the indications of whose appearance in the tempest overwhelm the mind of Elihu with astonishment, and cause him abruptly to break off" his address (Notes on ch. xxxvii. 19-24), closes the argument. ** The whole book," says Eichhorn, " may be regarded as a dialogue of sages respecting the government of the world, with a prologue and an epilogue; a cojiscssus of friends, as we find it among the Arabs of later times. In Casiri, Biblioth. Arab. Escur., t. i. p. 144, mention is made of a dialogue held by fifty-one artists, in which each one praises his own art." Einleit. §640, vol. v. p. 142.
By this supposition, it will be allowable to suppose that the debate may have occupied several days; for there is no evidence that it was completed at one sitting. By this supposition, also, some difliculties which have been felt in regard to its composition may be removed. (1.) It is not necessary to suppose that the addresses are extemporary; and the objection that it is incredible that men in the heat of debate should utter such finished and sublime specunens of poetry, is of no force. All the time requisite for composing each successive speech, may be allowed, and it may be presumed that each speaker came fully prepared to meet what had been advanced by the one who went before him. (2.) The same supposition will meet much of the difficulty which has been felt in regard to the speeches of Job. It has been said that it is wholly incredible that a man suffering under intolerable pain, and prostrate by long continued disease, should have uttered the sentiments which are here ascribed to him, and been able to reply as he did to the arguments of his opponents. To this difficulty it may be said in reply, that there is no evidence that his disease impaired his mental powers — for it is not always true that the faculties of the mind are enfeebled by bodily suffering; and further, that Job nuiy have had ample time to mature his reflections, and to arrange them in such a manner as he would wish. (3.) This supposition may throw some light on the question of the authorship of tlie poem. According to this view, what would be necessary for the author to do, would be to prepare the introductory and concluding historical statements, and to collect and arrange the speeches which had been actually made. Those speeches would doubtless be preserved mostly in the memory, and the work to be done would be rather that of a compiler or editor, than that of an author. In the discussion pursued in the poem, the great inquiry propounded relates to the equality of the divine dealings, and this inquiry is conducted in the most interesting manner conceivable. An actual case of a pious sufferer existed, giving to the question all the interest of reality. It was not a mere abstract inquiry, examined in a cold and unfeeling ninnner; but it was a case which, while it admitted of all the illustration which could be derived from experience, observation, tradition, and profound reflection, had all the interest also to be derived from the warm feelings and even excited passions which the case of an actual sufferer is fitted to produce.
The main question discussed has respect to the distribution of good and evil in the world. It is an inquiry whether there is a righteous and equal retribution in the present life, and whether the dealings of God here are according to the character. In the discussion of this question, the three friends of Job maintain the affirmative— defending the position, that the character of an individual can be determined from the events which occur to him under the divine administration; that there is a course of things which favors »he righteous, and brings calamity on the wicked; that where there is extraordinary prosperity there is extraordinary virtue, and that when overwhelming calamities come upon a man or a community, there is proof ot extraordinary wickedness On this principle they infer that, notwithstanding Job's professions in his prosperity, the calamities which had come upon him were full proof that he had been insincere, and that he must have been at heart a man of eminent wickedness. In defence of this opinion, they refer to their own observation, appeal to revelations which they say they had had on this very point, adduce the maxims and adages which had been accumulated by their ancestors, and boldly maintain that it must be so under the administration of a holy God,
Job as strenuously maintains the opposite opinion, with all the interest which can be derived from the fact that it is his own case, and that it involves the whole question about his own character, as well as from the fact that it is an inquiry about the general rectitude of the dealings of God with his creatures. He appeals to his consciousness of integrity; shows by abstract arguments that the opinions of his friends are not well founded; refers to general principles, to his own observation, and to the reports of travellers: complains bitterly of the unkindness of his friends, and expresses an earnest desire to carry the cause up to God to get a hearing before him, with a confident assurance that he would at once decide it in his favor. RtB is evidently embarrassed by tlie arguments of his friends, and is unable to meet many thinors in their reasoninsr, and to explain loliy it is that the righteous are thus afflicted. He maintains only that their afflictions do not prove that they are bad men, and that the dealings of God with men are not a certain indication of their true moral character. There are two considerations which would have relieved his embarrassment, and which we would now use in such a case, but which did not occur to him: the one is, that the afflictions of the righteous may be disciplinary, and may be really a proof of paternal kindness on the part of G-od; the other, that in the future state all the inequalities of the present life will be adjusted; that though the good may suffer much here, they will be abundantly recompensed hereafter; and that however prosperous the wicked may be here, the divine dealings in the future state will be entirely according to their character.
In readincr the book of Job. we must remember that these truths were nc t then clearly revealed. We must place ourselves in the circumstances of the speakers, and look at the argument in view of the lio-ht which they had. We must not approach the book under the feeling that they had the same knowledge of the divine jTovernment, of the design of affliction, and of the doctrine of the future state, which we now have under the Christian dispensation. Children now, under the light of the gospel, may easily solve many questions on moral subjects which entirely confounded these sagacious ancient sages, just as children now can answer many questions in astronomy which perplexed and embarrassed the most profound Grecian and Roman philosophers.
The manner in v/hich the great question about the equality of the divine administration is disposed of in this book, will be understood by a brief analysis of the argument, and by a statement of the points maintained by the different speakers.
I. In the commencement of the book, the reader is made acquainted with the character and the sufferings of the principal personage referred to. We are introduced to an inhabitant of the land of IJz, in the northern part of Arabia. He is a prince or an Emir in the place where he resided — honored and respected by all. He is a man of large property, whose life liad been one of almost unexampled prosperity. He is surrounded by a large and interestino; family, who are represented as enjoying themselves in the festiviues usual in the place where they resided, and in a manner appropriate to their station and rank in life. The patriarch himself is a man of eminent holiness. He performs with faithfulness the duties of a pious father, evinces the deepest concern that his children should net sin, and is declared to be a perfect and upright man — a man whose character would bear the severest scrutiny. In this state of things, the scene is opened in heaven. The tribunal of the Almighty appears; an assembling of the Sons of God occurs; and the celestial spirits are summoned before the Mos^t High. Among those who came is Satan — an evil spirit — an accuser — a dark, malignant being, who is represented as having no confidence in hun)an integrity, and who says that he has been through the earth to look on its affairs. Being asked respecting the character of this good man, he insinuates that all his religion is mere selfishness; that he could not be otherwise than a devout worshipper of God in the circumstances in which God had placed him; but that if his circumstances were changed, it would soon be apparent that all his professions were false and hollow. Permission is given to the evil spirit to make the trial, with the single reservation that the person of the man himself was to be untouched. Animated by this permission, Satan immediately leaves the heavenly council, and in a single day Job is stripped of his children and all his possessionSs
By the instrumentality of robbers, and whirlwinds, and storms, every thing which he hud is swept away, and messenger after messenger comes to him in rapid succession, acquainting him with these calamities. Still the integrity of the patriarch remains. lie isits down patient and resigned. Not a word of murmuring escapes from his lips, not a complaining thought seems to have been in his heart. The trial is thus far complete; the insinuation of Satan is siiown to be unfounded, and piety is triumphant.
The celestial session is held again, and Satan again appears. F(;iled in his first attempt, he now insinuates that the trial had not been fair; that there could be no real, thorough trial of the charj'.cter of a man unless he v/ere made personally to suffer, and his life ivere placed in jeopardy. If a man were himself spared to enjoy health, it was not yet certainly known what his true character was, fcr he might still be purely selfish. If he were made personally to suffer, he says that, so far from maintaining his integrity, he would curse God to his face. Permissioji- is giv.en to make this trial also, with tlie single reservation that his life was to be spared. The evil spirit again goes forth, selects the most painful and loathsome form of disease consistent with the preservation of life, and Job becomes an object of loathing and abhorrence even to his friends. Still this trial results as the former did. The integrity of the patriarch is preserved, and religion again triumphs. Satan is thus far foiled, and appears no more on the scene. The best man on the earth is made the most miserable; the man that was most prospered in the East is reduced to the lowest stage of poverty and wretchedness. But his virtue has survived it all, and it is seen that fidelity to God can be maintained in the most sudden reverses and in the deepest distresses which the body can be made to endure short of death.
In this state of things, three of his friends, who had heard of his c;d amities, are represented as coming by agreement to condole with hirn. When they arrive, however, they have nothing to say. The sufferings of their friend appear to be beyond any thing which they liud anticipated • and the topics of consolation which they had purposed to use are found insufficient, and they sit down in silent astonishment. The overwhelming calamities which had come upon ■\n eminently good man seem to have confounded them, but still they do not yet express a doubt, if they cherished a suspicion, about his integrity. The subject is evidently one that, in their view, de-!!iands grave reflection, and that presents some deep inquiries about the reason of the divine dealings. They were probably overcome by the unexpected severity of his sufferings and the depth of their sympathetic sorrow, but they were perplexed also because it seems to have conflicted with their cherished views of the divine government, that such trials should come upon so good a man; and it is possible thnt, in accordance, with these views, a suspicion may have already been started in their minds that he was less holy than he had been reputed to be. Still, if they had any doubts about the integrity of their friend, his perfect patience and resignation seem thus far to have silenced or removed them, or their courtesy kept them from expressing them, and not knowing what to say, they sat down in silence. It was only the bitter language <>f coii;plaint oi the sufferer himself (ch. iii.), that led them to adopt the conciusicn that their much venerated and esteemed friend must have been a bad man.
II. The second, or principal part of the work, comprises the discussion between Job and jiis three friends, and extends from the third to the thirty-first chapter. The discussion is brought on by the bitter complaints of Job as recorded in ch. iii. Up to this time his friends had been silent. If they had had any suspicion of his integrity, they had not until then expressed it. His complaints and nmrmurings, however, now gave them occasion to express their feelings without reservation. They commence the discussion respecting the causes of human suffering. They lu^ld the doctrine of a strict retribution in the present life; maintain that misery always implies corresponding guilt; defend the opinion that it is fair to infer what a mian's character is from the dealings of God with him; and do not hesitate to express the opinion that the calamities of Job must have been brought upon him in consequence of his secret wickedness. Job repels their insinuations with indignation, and boldly asserts his innocence. He knows not why he suffers. He is unable to explain the causes why calamities come upon gc(id men, but he maintains that they are no certain indications of the character of the sufferer. He regards himself as unkindly treated by his friends; complains that they are not disposed to do him justice; affirms that instead of offering him the consolation which they ought, they have taken occasion to aggravate his woes by false and severe accusations; and expresses a desire to carry the cause directly before God himself, assured that he would do him that justice which was denied him by his friends. His friends are offended at his sentiments, and undertake to vindicate the conduct of the Deity towards him, and repeat the charges with greater asperity, and even accuse him of particular crimes. But the more they press the argument, the more confidently does he assert his innocence, and the more boldly does he appeal to God to vindicate his character His friends are finally reduced to silence, Bildad, in the last series of the controversy, closing the discussion by a few general maxims of great beauty, but without any pertinency to the cause, on the greatness of God, and Zophaf, who should have replied in his turn to Job, not saying any thing.
In this controversy, as has been already remarked, there are three series, or sessions, conducted with great regularity, and carried on in the same order. Eliphaz is the first speaker, Bildad the second, and Zophar the third; and Job replies to each.
'Vhef.rst series of the discussion extends from ch, iv. to ch. xiv. Eliphaz commences it, chs. iv., v. He probably had the precedence among those engaged in the discussion, both on account of age and experience. He is more mild than either of the others, depends more on close reasoning and observation, and is less severe in his reflections on his friend. His speech commences with delicacy and an air of candor, and is conducted with artful address. After apologizing, in a tender manner, for speaking, he proceeds to point out the inconsistency of a good man's repining under discipline; says that Job had counselled and comforted many others, and ought now to show that the same considerations were sufficient to sustain himself, and that it is absurd that he should not bear up under trial who had so often exhorted others to fortitude. He then advances the position that the truly righteous are never overthrown, and that no one who was innocent ever perished; that the wicked are dealt with according to their sins, and that the ways of God must be just. This position he proceeds to establish by h vision w4iich he says he himself had had, of a most remarkable character, affirming the uprightness of the divine dealings, and declaring that man could not be more just than his Maker, and that even the angels were charged with folly before God. The object of this, as applied by Eliphaz, is to meet the complaints of Job, and to show that God must be right in his ways. He admits (ch. v.) that the wicked may prosper for a while, but asserts that they will meet with sudden calamity; that their habitation will be suddenly cursed, their children crushed in the gate, and their property carried away by robbers. He does not expressly apply this to Job, but he leaves no doubt that it was intended for him, and advises Job even now to turn to God, and assures him that he may yet find happiness, and come to the grave in an honored old age.
Job replies to Eliphaz (chs. vi., vii.), and justifies himself for complaining. He says that there was a good reason for his complaints; expresses again the earnest wish to die; declares that his strength is not equal to the weight of woes laid on him; complains severely of his friends for having wholly disappointed his reasonable expectations; and compares them to the deceitful brook of the desert, which wholly disappoints the hopes of the fiiint and thirsty traveller. He says that he had not asked them to come and sympathize with him, but that even now, if they would make use of solid argument, he would listen to them. He then (ch. vii.) proceeds to a more impassioned description of his suff^3rings, as being wholly beyond endurance; expresses again the wish to die; says that he is not a monster, like a whale, that God should pursue him in this manner; and complains of God in language highly irreverent, as having punished him far beyond his deserts, and as having set a special mark on him, and asks with impatience why he will not let him alone?
Bildad is the next one to speak, ch. viii. He commences his address in a most severe and provoking manner. He openly declares that the children of Job had been cut off for their transgressions, and that Job was a wicked man. If he were pure and uprigjit, God would at once interpose and restore his prosperity. He exhorts him, therefore, as Eliphaz had done, to repent, and enforces his sentiments by a reference to the opinions of the men of former days. In accordance with those sentiments, he says that the hypocrite must be soon destroyed; that however flourishing and prosperous he may appear, he is like succulent plants that spring up with rapid growth and are soon withered; and that his hope will be like the spider's web. He does not expressly apply these maxims to Job, but he leaves no doubt on the mind that he intends it, and that he fully believes that this principle will fully account for all that he had suifered; or in other words, that in the midst of all his prosperity he had been a mere hypocrite.
To Bildad Job replies in his turn, ch. ix., x. He commences in a calm manner, and shows that he is superior to the acrimony of the assault. He acknowledges that all power is with God, and confesses that he has a right to universal supremacy. He controls the heavens and the earth, rules among the stars and directs them, and nothing can stand before the exertion of his power. He acknowledges that he is far from being perfect, and says that, even if this were his private feeling, he would not dare to assert it before God. He could not engage in so unequal a contest where he should regard him as guilty, but he must yield his own views to those of God. Still he maintains that the position of his friends cannot be defended; that the earth is given into the hands of the wicked: and that so far from its being true that the dealings of God are according to the character of men, and are a fair illustration of their character, it is a matter of fact that the wicked are triumphant and prosperous. Then he adverts to his own sorrows; says that his days are fast flying away amid grief, and complains bitterly that notwithstanding all his attempts to be innocent and holy, God holds and treats him as if he were a guilty man. Though he should wash himself in the purest water, yet God throws him in the ditch, and regards and treats him as if he were most vile. He complains that he has no fair opportunity of vindicating himself before God, and that he presses him down with sorrows so that he cannot make a defence; but says that if he would remove his rod from him, and give him the opportunity of a fair trial, he would speak, and would vindicate himself. Becoming more excited as he proceeds (ch. x.), he gives himself up to complaint. He becomes desperate at the idea that God has become his enemy and persecutor; speaks of him as if he were seeking an opportunity to inflict pain under some plausible pretence; complains that he had made him, as if with exquisite skill, only to torment and destroy him; says that he hunts him with the fierceness of a lion; expresses regret again that he had not died on the day of his birth; and entreats of God to let him alone only for a little time, till he should go down to the deep shades of death.
Zophar, the third speaker, novv^ takes his place in the argument, and replies, ch. xi. He commences, as Bildad did, with violent invective. He regards Job as a man of words without sense; and reproaches him for maintaining his innocence before God. He says that the ways of God are plain, and earnestly desires that God would himself speak to Job, and is assured that he would then see that it was his own iniquities that had brought these calamities upon him. He refers, in magnificent language, to the supremacy of God; says that he fully understands the secret character of men; and, like Eliphaz and Bildad, exhorts Job to acknowledge his transgressions, and assures him that if he would do this he would be restored to prosperity and yet end his days in peace.
To Zophar Job replies, ch. xii., xiii., xiv. Yet he does not answer him personally. As they had all maintained the same sentiments, he groups them together, and commences, in turn, with a severe sarcasm. He says that no doubt wisdom would die with them, and reproaches them for their cool self-complacency and their arrogance in supposing that they were wiser than all the rest of mankind. In return for their traditionary maxims he retorts in the same manner, and shows them that he is as much at home in this kind of argument as they can be. He therefore adduces a large number of proverbial sayings (ch. xii.), of far more pertinency and point than many of those on which they relied, all going to show the majesty, the power, and the supremacy of God. He then (ch. xiii.) commences a direct attack on their motives, and charges them with maintaining their opinions with the hope of propitiating the favor of God. To do this, he says, they had employed unsound arguments; had evinced partiality for God; had been unwilling to yield the proper weight to the considerations adduced on the other side; and that they had really no regard for the truth in the case, but were ' special' and partial pleaders. He says that they ought to be awed and to tremble in view of such a fact; that they were really mocking God by undertaking to defend his government by such reasons as they had adduced; and that they had great reason to dread his investigation of their motives, even when they were pretending to vindicate liis government. Alike in the principles of government which they ascribed to him, and the arguments by which they undertook to vindicate him, they were offensive to him, and must apprehend his displeasure. Weary with this mode of argumentation, he then expresses the earnest wish that he might carry his cause directly before the tribunal of God, and manage it there, on equal terms, for himself He v/ould go before God in this cause, confident that he would do right, and resolved to trust him even thougli he should slay him, ch. xiii. 15. He would ask of him only two things — one was, that he v/ould withdraw his hand from him so that he might be able to do justice to himself in the argument; the other was, that he would not take advantage r^.iS great power to overawe him, so that he could say nothing, h'^ then reverts to his calamities, speaks of them as overwh^'uL*ng, and closes his address (ch. xiv.) with a most beautiful ^nd pathetic description of the frailty and the shortness of life. He says that God removes man from all his comforts, and hides him in the grave, hopeless of a return to the land of the living, and that his condition is even more sad and desolate than that of the tree that is cut down. Thus ends ihe first series in the controversy. The second com.- mences with ch. xv., and extends to the close of the twenty-first chapter. It is pursued in the same order, and with the same question in view.
Eliphaz, as before, opens the discussion, ch, xv. He accuses Job of vehemence and vanity; charges him with casting off fear and restraining prayer; says that his own mouth condemned him, blames him for his arrogance and presumption in speaking as if he were the first man that had lived; declares that with himself were men far more advanced in life than Job was, and even older than his father; and asks him whether he had been admitted to the secret counsels of the Almighty, that he spoke so confidently of the nature of his government. He then enters into a vindication of God; proposes to adduce the observations of the sages of ancient times in the purer days when there was no foreign admixture in the sentiments of his country; and maintains that, in accordance with these sentiments, and with the settled course of events, God deals with wicked men according to their character. This opinion he illustrates with great beauty, and by a large number of apothegms, showing that the Vvicked man is subject to sudden alarms; that in prosperity the destroyer comes suddenly upon him; that he wanders abroad for bread; that he is made to dwell in desolate cities; that all his prosperity fails, like the shaking off of fruit before "t is ripe; and that he is like a tree dried up by heat.
To til is speech of Eliphaz, Job replies in his turn, ch. xvi., xvii. He renews his complaint of the severe manner in which his friends had treated him, and says that he could easily speak as they did, but if his case were theirs he would meet them with consolatory words. But now, he says, it makes no difference whether he speaks or is silent. He finds no consolation if he speaks; he meets with no relief though he is silent. He then adverts with new bitterness of feeling, and in still more severe and irreverent language, to the intensity of his sufferings, and to their manifest injustice. He compares his enemies to a wild beast, gnashing his teeth and casting a furious glance upon him: says that God had given him over to the ungodly; that he was at ease, when God came upon him like a hunter, and stationed his archers around him; that he had come upon him like an army attacking a city, ' breach upon breach;' and that all this was not because he was wicked, for his hands were pure. He then calls upon the earth to cover his blood, and says that, after all, his only appeal is to God, and before him his eyes poured out tears. In ch. xvii. he continues the description of his sufferings, and says that the record of his trials will yet be a subject of amazement to good men which they will not be able to understand, and that all his plans are now broken off, and that he ■>mist make the grave his house and his bed in darkness.
To this address of Job, Bildad replies in his turn, ch. xviii. He begins by repeating the accusation before made, that the argument of Job was made up merely of vain words. He accuses him of arrogance and a presumptuous idea of his own importance — as if the settled course of events were to be made to give way on his account. He says that the great laws of the divine administration are fixed, and that it is an established maxim that the wicked shall be punished in this life. This sentiment he proceeds to enforce by a number of beautiful adages or proverbs. The light of the wicked shall be put out; the candle in his dwelling shall be extinguished; he shall be cast down by his own counsel; the gin shall suddenly take him; the robber shall come upon him; his strength shall vanish; terrors shall surprise him; his roots shall perish; his memory shall perish; he shall be chased out of the world; he shall have neither son nor nephew; and all that come after him shall hold him up as an example of the manner in which God deals with the wicked. Bildad advances nothing new, but he enforces what had been said before with great emphasis, and urges it as if it were so settled that it could not admit of dispute. He does not, in the description of the evils that come upon the wicked, refer to Job by name, but he presents his argument in such a way as to leave no doubt that he designs to have it applied to him. There is much refinement of cruelty m this, and he doubtless rnectnt that it should be keenly felt by Job.
In the reply of Job to Bildad, ch. xix., he shows that he felt it deeply. His speech on this occasion is one of the most pathetic parts of the poem, and exhibits his character in a most beautiful light. He commences, as usual, with the language of sorrow, ' ut it is with a tender and subdued spirit. He asks his friends hr.w long the}' will continue to vex him, and crush him with iheir remarks; says that they had reproached him ten times, and iiad made themselves strange to him; and declares that (/he had erred, his error was his own, and remained with himself. He then gives a most affecting description of his sufferings. God had overthrown him; he had fenced up his way; he had taken the crown from his head; he had removed all his hopes; he had put away from him his brethren and friends, his kinsfolk and acquaintance; he had made him an object of reproach to his servants; his wife was estranged from him, and he was derided even by children. In most impassioned language he calls on his friends to pity him, for the hand of God had touched him. Then follows the most noble and sublime declaration, perhaps, to be tound in the book. Conscious of the importance of what he was about to say, he asks that his words might be engraved on the eternal reck, and then professes his unwavering confidence in God, and his firm assurance that he would yet appear and fully vindicate his character. Though now consumed by disease, and though this process should still go on till all his flesh was w'asted away, yet he had the firmest conviction that God v/ould appear on the earth to deliver him, and that with renovated flesh, and in prosperity, he v/ould be permitted to see God for himself For a view of the reasons for this interpretation of this sublime passage, the reader is referred to the Notes on the chapter.
Zophar now speaks in his turn, ch. xx. But he speaks only to recapitulate the old argument under a new form. He maintains the position which had been so often before advanced, that certain and dreadful calamity must overtake the wicked. This thought he puts into new forms, and urges it with a variety of proverbial illustrations and bold statements, but without much that is new in the arorument. He undoubtedly means, like the previous speakers, to have Job apply this to himself, though he does not expressly declare it.
Job replies to Zophar, ch. xxi., and his reply closes the second session of the controversy. He collects all his strength for the argument, as though he were resolved at once to answer all that had been said. He calls upon them attentively to mark what he has to urge; and says that if they will now hear him, they may then mock on. He then proceeds to answer their arguments by appealing to well known and indisputable/«c^s. He says that the wicked live- - grow old — become mighty in power — are prospered in their flocks and herds — send forth their children to the dance — and spend their days in wealth and enjoyment, and then go down to the grave without long and lingering pain. He says that they openly cast off" the fear of God, and live in irreligion. Yet he admits that it is not always so; that the candle of the wicked is sometnnes put out, and that sorrows are laid up for their children; so that no universal rule can be laid down in regard to the dealings of God with men here. He alleges that in fact there is the greatest variety in the manner in which people die — one dying in full strength, cut down in his vigor, and another in the bitterness of his soul, having had no pleasure. He says that the wicked are I'cscrvcd for the day of destruction — for some future retribution, and that they will be hereafter brought forth to wrath. By this appeal to facts, he evidently supposed that the controversy would be ended. Of the facts he had no doubt; and these facts were of more value than all speculations on the subject.
The third session of the discussion, like the previous ones, is opened by Eliphaz, ch, xxii. This is the last speech which Eliphaz makes, and roused by the argument of Job in the previous chapter, and excited by his appeal to facts, he pours forth his soul in one grand effort to confute the position which he had taken. There is great art in this speech, and greater severity than he had before used. He begins by maintaining that a man could not be profitable to God, and that he could not be influenced in his dealings with men by any claim which they had on him, or any dread which he had of them. No rank, authority, or eminence could prevent his dealing with them as he pleased. He then, in open and bold terms, charges Job with great guilt; says that these calamities could not have come upon a man unless there had been extraordinary iniquity, and proceeds to argue as (/"this were so, and to state what crimes Job must have committed to make it necessary to bring such calamities upon him. He accuses him of cruelty, oppression, and injustice in the performance of his duties as a magistrate; affirms that he had wronged the poor, the widow, and the fatherless; says that he had wholly disregarded the laws of hospitality, and that it was no wonder that in view of these things such heavy calamities had come upon him. It could not be otherwise. God could have dealt with him in no other way than this. He then appeals, with great force, to the deluge, and says that that was a case which demonstrated that God would deal with the wicked according to their character and deserts. In view of these things, he again counsels Job to acquaint himself with God, and to be at peace with him. He assures him that if he would confess his sins and return to God, he would yet have prosperity, and be able to lay up gold as dust; and that if he prayed to God, he would be propitious to him. He would become yet a counsellor to the feeble, and be exalted to honor in the land.
Job, in his turn, replies, ch. xxiii., xxiv. He commences in a most pnthetic and tender manner. He turns away from every human helper, and looks to God. He had looked to earthly friends in vain; and finding there no consolation, he expresses the most earnest wish that he might be able to carry his cause at once before his Maker. Could he come before him, as he wished, he would plead his cause there, and there he would find One who would hear him, and would know why it was that he was thus afflicted. He could not now explain it, yet God would do it, if he was permitted to carry his cause before him. Yet he could not find him. He looked in every direction for some token of his appearing, in vain. He went east, and west, and north, and south — in the quarters of the heavens where he usually manifested himself, but he could not find him. Notes on vs. 9, 10. Yet he had the firmest confidence in him, and he felt assured that when he had been tried, he would come forth as gold. He asserts his consciousness of integrity, and says that it had been the great aim of his life to honor and obey God. He then proceeds, ch. xxiv., to defend his former position, and affirms that so far from its being true that the dealings of God were in accordance with the character of men here, it was a fact that the wicked often lived long and in great prosperity. He refers to large classes of the wicked — to those who remove the landmarks — to those who take the property of the widow and the fatherless for a pledge— to those who live by plunder — to those who oppress the poor and turn them out without shelter — to those who cause others to labor under hard exactions — to the murderer who rises early to accomplish his purpose — to the adulterer, and to all who perform deeds of darkness. He says that they often have in fact long prosperity, though he admits that they will be ultimately cut off"; they are only exalted for a little time, and then they will be brought low.
These facts being undeniable, Bildad, whose turn it was to answer, does not attempt to reply to them. The argument of Job from what actually occurs had settled the question, and, so far as the friends of Job were concerned, decided the controversy. Bildad indeed, ch. xxv., attempts something like a reply; but it consists merely of a description of the power, wisdom, and majesty of God, and closes with the sentiment twice before expressed concerning the comparative impurity and insignificance of man — a reply that, however beautiful, has no relevancy to the considerations stated by Job. The manner in which he speaks is, in fact, a yielding of the argument, and a retiring from the field of debate.
Job, who next speaks, in reply to Bildad, cb. xxvi., opens his address in a strain of bitter irony. ' How had tiie feeble, the powerless, and the ignorant [referring to himself], been strengthened, helped, and enlightened, by this wise speech!' He inquires of Bildad, by whose spirit he had spoken, and wlio had helped him to utter such marvellous things! He then proceeds himself to expatiate on the topic on which Bildad had proposed to enlighten him — the greatness and majesty of God, and does it in such a manner as to show that his own views were far more elevated than those of Bildad, and that he was far in advance of his professed teacher in his knowledge of the character and government of God. In this sublime description, he states his views of the creation; says that the deep, dark world of the shades is open before God; that he stretched out the north over the inmiense void, and hung the earth upon nothing; that he binds up the thick clouds, holds back the face of his throne, compasses the waters with bounds so that they cannot pass, divides the sea with his power; and that by his own hands he had formed the beautiful constellations of the heavens. There is not to be found any where a more sublime description of God, nor a passage of more exquisite beauty, than that with which he closes:
Lo! these arc but the outlines of his ways 1 And how faint the whisper which we hear of him! [Should he speak with] the thunder of his power, who could under stand him?
This was the appropriate place for Zophar to reply, and Job evidently paused to give him an opportunity. But he had nothing to.say, and the argument on the part of the three friends of Job is closed.
Finding that no one replies to him. Job proceeds, in a more calm manner, to a full vindication of himself, ch. xxvii.-xxxi. He states further his views about the government of God, and especially in reference to his dealinss with a hypocrite (ch. xxvii.); gives a most beautiful description of the search for wisdom, detailing many of the discoveries of science known in his time, and saying that no one of them could disclose it, and concluding by saying that true wisdom could be found only in the fear of the Lord (ch. xxviii.); aflectingly contrasts his present condition with his former prosperity (ch. xxix., xxx.); maintains the integrity of his life, asserting that he was free from the crimes charged on him, and imprecating the severest punishment if he had been guilty; and closes by saying, tliat if God would come forth and pronounce a just judgment on him, he would take the decision and bind it on his head us a diadem, and march forth with it in triumph. For the train of thought in these beautiful chapters, the reader is referred to the " Analysis " prefixed to the Notes.
III. Thus far Job is triumphant. He has silenced his ' friends,' and gained the field as a victor. At this stage a new character is introduced, who comes with great apparent modesty, and yet with great pretensions. It is Elihu. He had evidently listened to tlie debate, and feels indignant that no one of the three friends of Jt.b dared to reply to him. He is young and comparatively inexperienced, and hence he had thus far taken no part in the controversy. But he professes to have had views communicated to him by divine revelation, which clear up all the difficulties in the case; and he proceeds to state them. The single additional thought on which he dwells so much, and which he introduces with so much pomp and parade of language, is, that ajjiictions are for the good of the sufferer, and that if those who are affhcted will hearken to the counsel which God sends, and turn from their sins, they will find theii afflictions to be sources of great benefit. This leading thought he exhibits in various lights, and evidently supposes that it would be sufficient to solve the difficulties which had been felt in the discussion. It is remarkable that it had not been made more prominent by Job and his friends; and it is from the fact that it had not been particularly adverted to, that leads Elihu to place it in such a variety of view. In the course of his speech there is much severe reflection on Job for his rashness and presumption, and the general tenor of the address is, undoubtedly, to coincide with the * friends' of Job in their views, rather than in his. The thirty-second chapter is wholly introductory, in which he expresses great modesty, and apologizes for his speaking, by saying that he was grieved that no one replied to Job, and that he was constrained to reply by the pressure of important thoughts on his mind. In ch. xxxiii. he enters on his argument, and says that he was inspired of God to say what he had to communicate; that as Job had wished to bring his ^•<^^niseHDefore God, he was now in the place of God, and that Job eed not be overawed by one of the same nature with himself. He then adverts to what he understood Job to maintain, that he was innocent; and says that in this he could not be correct, but that God must be more righteous than man. He then adverts to the main thought which he had to communicate, that God speaks to man in various ways, by dreams, by visions, and by afflictions, — to withdraw him from his purpose, and to save him from sin. If God sends a messenger to him when he is afflicted, and he turns from his sins, then he is merciful to him, and he is restored to more than his former prosperity. To this fact Elihu calls the particular attention of Job, and then pauses for a reply. As Job says nothing, Elihu in eh. xxxiv. proposes more particularly to examine his case. He then proceeds to state that Job had manifested a very improper spirit • that he had been irreverent, and had maintained that it was of no advantage for a man to serve God. He then advances the position that God cannot do wickedly, and proceeds to illustrate this by showmg that he is supreme, that it is presumptuous for man to arraign his dealings, and that in fact his government is administered on the principles of equity. On the basis of this, and assuming that Job was a wicked man, he calls on him to confess that his cnastisement was just, and to resolve to offend no more. In ch XXXV. he charges Job with having in fact maintained that his own righteousness was more than that of God. This position he proceeds to examine, and to show, which he does with great conclusiveness, that It IS impossible that the righteousness of man can be m any way profitable to God. He admits that a man's riahteousness might be of advantage to his fellow-man, but maintains that it could not affect God. He then proceeds to show that the true reason why God did not interpose when men were afflicted, and remove their calamities, was, that they were obstinate and perverse and that no one cried to God, who alone could give consolation. Elihu having undertaken to vindicate the character of God, proceeds' in ch. xxxvi., xxxvii., to state some of the great principles of his government, and to maintain that God was right. He says that there yet remains much to be said on the part of God. Job, as he understood, had maintained that his government was administered on no settled principles. In opposition to this, Elihu asserts that God is mighty, and that his government is not to be despised; that he will not prosper the wicked; that in fact he protects the riohteous and vindicates the cause of the poor; and that his eye is cni^all. If they are in affliction, and bound in fetters, it is in order that they may see their iniquity and be brought to true repentance. The hypocrites, he says, heap up v/rath,^but the poor and afflicted;.re delivered, and Job would have found favor if he had been truly penitent. Elihu counsels him to beware lest his refusal to submit to God, and to exercise true repentance, should be the rccasicn of his entire destruction. To illustrate his views, and to show the necessity of submission, he closes his speech (ch. xxxvi. 26-;]8, ch. xxxvii.) with a sublime description of the greatness of Gvd especially as manifested in the storm and tempest. There is in (his description every indication that a storm was actually rising and that a fearful tempest was gathering. In the midst of this rppn'achmg tempest, the address of Elihu is broken off, and the Almighty appears and closes the debate. See the Analysis to ch. xxxvii.
IV. The fourth part of the bock consists of the address of the Almighty, ch. xxxviii.-xli. This sublime disccurse is represented as made from the nndst of the tempest rr whirlwind ^hich Elihu describes as gathering. In this address, the principal object of God is to assert his own greatness and majesty, and the duty of profound submission under the dispensations of his government. The general thought is, that he is Lord of heaven and earth; that all things have been made by him, and that he has a right to control them; and that in the works of his hands he had given so much evidence of his wisdom, power, and goodness, that men ought to have unwavering confidence in him. He appeals to his works, and shows that in fact man could explain little, and that the most familiar objects were beyond his comprehension. It was, therefore, to be expected that in his moral government there would be much that would be above the power of man to explain. In this speech, the creation of the world is first brought before the mind in language which has never been equalled. Then the Almighty refers to various things in the universe that surpass the wisdom of man to comprehend'^them, or his power to make them — to the laws of light; the depths of the ocean; the formation of the snow, the rain, the dew, the ice, the frost; the changes of the seasons, the clouds, the lightnings; and the instincts of animals. He then makes a particula'r appeal to some of the more remarkable inhabitants of the air, the forests, and the waters, as illustrating his power. He refers to the gestation of the mountain-goats; to the wild ass, to the rhinoceros, to the ostrich, and to the horse, ch. xxxix. The ground of the argument in this part of the address, is, that he had adapted every kind of animals to the mode of life which it was to lead; that he had given cunning where cunning was necessary, and where unnecessary, that he had withheld it; that he had endowed with rapidity of foot or wing where such qualities were needful; and that where power was demanded, he had conferred it. In reference to all these classes of creatures, there were peculiar laws by which they were governed; and all, in their several spheres, showed the wisdom and skill of their Creator. Job is subdued and awed by these exhibitions, and confesses that he is vile, ch. xl. 8-5. To produce, however, a more overpowering impression of his greatness and majesty, and to secure a deeper prostration before him, the Almighty proceeds to a particular description of two of the more remarkalile animals which he had made — the behemoth, or hippopotamus, and the leviathan, or crocodile; and with this description, the address of the Almighty closes.