do not always like Jacob's ways in business, but the point to be noted is that Jacob himself will never sell his birthright for a mess of pottage. We are not apologizing for any of his sharp practices, but we are talking about the failure that the other brother made of his business chances, the more attractive brother Esau. He was a nobler character in some respects, but he was what the New Testament calls a profane person; that is, he was fickle, impulsive, shallow; a man who would let present pleasure draw his thoughts away from solid future advantage; a man who could not bear present inconvenience or pain for the sake of future honor. He will often promise great things in business, as he did in school; he is bold, he is generous and popular, he plays for large stakes, and at first seems likely to win; people call him the young Napoleon of finance, and he looks down on little Jacob, with his patience, and economy, and sleepless watchfulness, and accurate calculation. But the story goes on telling itself over and over: how to-day Esau eats his mess of pottage, and to-morrow is left hungry again; while Jacob can hardly remember whether he is hungry or not, but he gets and keeps the birthright.

And now for the more religious application of the story of these two brothers. The same thing that made Esau a brilliant failure as heir to his

father's earthly inheritance, made him a failure as heir to his father's faith. I dare say in this matter also he was a brilliant failure, very promising at first. When the boys began to go to Sunday-school (if there had been a Sunday-school) I suppose people would have called Esau the more hopeful Bible scholar at first; if a young people's meeting had been started in their chapel just after Melchizedek or some other evangelist had been laboring among them, I can imagine that Esau gave the more interesting testimony at first, offered the more fervent prayers, and left poor little Jacob quite out of sight in the matter of singing. There is an air of freedom and boldness about this youth which is very taking. He belongs to the class of hearers whom our Lord afterward described in one of his parables, who are like a certain kind of soil where the good seed fell, and immediately sprang up quickly. But you remember why it sprang up quickly-because there was no deepness of earth. There was no root to that part of the crop; the growth was all above ground. If Esau ever had any religious fervor, I am sure it was of that sort. When persecution and tribulation came because of the word, at once he was offended. When keeping the birthright of the faith meant to go faint and hungry, at once he complained that he was starving, and so snatched for the earthly pottage.

But Jacob-whatever befell, Jacob was determined to have that birthright, his father's faith. How much he supposed it meant, in those early days, I do not know. Really it would mean infinitely much. His father Isaac's faith, Abraham's faith-it would mean that Jacob's descendants should be God's chosen people and heirs of God's promises; it would mean that the Saviour of the world should be born among them after many years, through whom the cherished birthright, an eternal inheritance, might be offered to all the children of men. But how much of all that Jacob was thinking of, or had ever dreamed of, at the time when he sold this pottage to Esau, I do not know. Not much, I fancy, or he could not well have taken such crooked means as he took to get it; nevertheless that birthright, as an idea, a name, the family honor, the father's blessing, the first place in the family estate-it did represent the highest thing those two boys knew about, and while Esau despised it, Jacob set his heart on having it.

Well, when any child or man sets his heart on having the highest thing he knows about, and is willing to toil and wait and suffer and go hungry and cold-anything, rather than lose it-he may not know much about high things yet, and there may still be many mean streaks left in his character, but it seems to me he has got his face turned

toward being a Christian. And if that is the way he is looking, and he does really keep his face set that way, it seems to me that God will lead him on at last to the point where we can unhesitatingly call him a Christian. Just as God led this Jacob on, and chastened him, and humbled him, and wrestled with him, through many years, till at last the man could offer that sublime prayer of the later chapter: "Tell me thy name. I will not let thee go except thou bless me."1 Jacob was a new man then, and deserved his new name as one of God's elect; but he had taken his first step that way long years before, when he chose the unseen birthright of his father's blessing rather than the pottage or any other present pleasure. Already he was the sort of man that God chooses: "Jacob have I loved "—not Esau, Jacob.

Do you think now that this standard biblical instance of God's choice of men is so arbitrary, after all, or so unreasoning or unreasonable? At all events, God does so choose men. And when the highest birthright is set before us-Christ's offer of an inheritance among the sons of God, that which He gave His life to purchase for us-and many a promising Esau is drawn toward it-for it is inevitable that he should be the heroism of Christian service appeals to every generous impulse

1 Genesis xxxii, 26-28.

of the soul, and Esau was full of generous impulses; but here is some dish of pottage temptingly near, and he makes the great refusal. And what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world? The whole round world would be like a mess of pottage, tasting good for a moment, but leaving you hungry forevermore, if it should cost you your birthright as a child of God. The man who despises his birthright cannot be named among God's elect.

That is the lesson taught for all time to come by this standard scriptural instance of divine election, God's choice of Jacob over Esau.