“The archers have sorely grieved him, and shot at him, and hated him; but his
bow abode in strength; and the arms of his hands were made strong by the
hands of the mighty God of Jacob; from thence is the shepherd, the stone of
Israel.”-Genesis 49:23,24.
It must have been a fine sight to see the hoary-headed Jacob sitting up in
his bed whilst he bestowed his parting benediction upon his twelve sons. He
had been noble in many instances during his life-at the sleeping place of
Bethel, the brook of Jabbok, and the halting of Peniel. He had been a
glorious old man; one before whom we might bow down with reverence, and truly
say, “There were giants in those days.” But his closing scene was the best. I
think if ever he stood out more illustrious than at any other time, if his
head was at any one season more than another, encircled with a halo of glory,
it was when he came to die. Like the sun at setting, he seemed then to be the
greater in brilliance, tinging the clouds of his weakness with the glory of
grace within. Like good wine, which runs clear to the very bottom, unalloyed
by dregs, so did Jacob till his dying hour continue to sing of love, of
mercy, and of goodness, past and future. Like the swan, which (as old writers
say) singeth not all its life until it comes to die, so the old patriarch
remained silent as a songster for many years; but when he stretched himself
on his last couch of rest, he stayed himself up in his bed, turned his
burning eye from one to another, and although with a hoarse and faltering
voice, he sang a sonnet upon each of his offspring, such as earthly poets,
uninspired, cannot attempt to imitate. Looking upon his son Reuben, a tear
was in his eye, for he recollected Reuben’s sin; he passed over Simeon and
Levi, giving some slight rebuke; upon the others he sung a verse of praise,
as his eyes saw into the future history of the tribes. By-and-by his voice
failed him, and the good old man, with long-drawn breath, with eyes pregnant
with celestial fire, and heart big with heaven, lifted his voice to God, and
said, “I have waited for thy salvation, O God,” rested a moment on his
pillow, and then again sitting up, recommenced the strain, passing briefly by
the names of each. But oh! when he came to Joseph, his youngest son but one-
when he looked on him, I picture that old man as the tears ran down his
cheeks. There stood Joseph, with all his mother Rachel in his eyes-that dear
loved wife of his-there he stood, the boy for whom that mother had prayed
with all the eagerness of an Eastern wife. For a long twenty years she had
tarried a barren woman and kept no house, but then she was a joyful mother,
and she called her son “Increase.” Oh! how she loved the boy; and for that
mother’s sake, though she had been buried for some years, and hidden under
the cold sod, old Jacob loved him too. But more than that, he loved him for
his troubles. He was parted from him to be sold into Egypt. His father
recollected Joseph’s trials in the round-house and the dungeon, and
remembered his royal dignity as prince of Egypt; and now, with a full burst
of harmony, as if the music of heaven had united with his own, as when the
widened river meets the sea, and the tide coming up doth amalgamate with the
stream that cometh down, and swelleth into a broad expanse, so did the glory
of heaven meet the rapture of his earthly feelings, and giving vent to his
soul , he sung, “Joseph is a fruitful bough, even a fruitful bough by a well;
whose branches run over the wall; the archers have sorely grieved him, and
shot at him, and hated him; but his bow abode in strength, and the arms of
his hands were made strong by the hands of the mighty God of Jacob; (from
thence is the shepherd, the stone of Israel); even by the God of thy father,
who shall help thee; and by the Almighty, who shall bless thee with blessings
of heaven above, blessings of the deep that lieth under, blessings of the
breasts, and of the womb; the blessings of thy father have prevailed above
the blessings of my progenitors, unto the utmost bound of the everlasting
hills; they shall be on the head of Joseph, and on the crown of the head of
him that was separate from his brethren.” What a splendid stanza with which
to close! He has only one more blessing to give; but surely this was the
richest which he conferred on Joseph.
Joseph is dead, but the Lord has his Josephs now. There are some still who
understand by experience-and that is the best kind of understanding-the
meaning of this passage, “The archers have sorely grieved him, and shot at
him, and hated him; but his bow abode in strength, and the arms of his hands
were made strong by the hands of the mighty God of Jacob.”
There are four things for us to consider this morning. First of all, the
cruel attack-”the archers have sorely grieved him, and shot at him, and hated
him;” secondly, the shielded warrior-”but his bow abode in strength;”
thirdly, his secret strength-”the arms of his hands were made strong by the
mighty power of the God of Jacob;” and fourthly, the glorious parallel drawn
between Joseph and Christ-”from thence is the shepherd, the stone of Israel.”
I. First, then, we commence with THE CRUEL ATTACK. “The archers have sorely
grieved him.” Joseph’s enemies were archers. The original has it, “masters of
the arrows;” that is, men who were well skilled in the use of the arrows.
Though all weapons are alike approved by the warrior in his thirst for blood,
there seems something more cowardly in the attack of the archer than in that
of the swordsman. The swordsman plants himself near you, foot to foot, and
lets you defend yourself, and deal your blows against him; but the archer
stands at a distance, hides himself in ambuscade, and, without you knowing
it, the arrow comes whizzing through the air, and perhaps penetrates your
heart. Just so are the enemies of God’s people. They very seldom come foot to
foot with us; they will not show their faces before us; they hate the light,
they love darkness; they dare not come and openly accuse us to our face, for
then we could reply; but they shoot the bow from a distance, so that we
cannot answer them; cowardly and dastardly as they are, they forge their
arrow-heads, and aim them, winged with hell-birds feathers, at the hearts of
God’s people. The archers sorely grieved poor Joseph. Let us consider who are
the archers who so cruelly shot at him. First, there were the archers of
envy; secondly, the archers of temptation; and thirdly, the archers of
slander and calumny.
“This article originally appeared here at Bible Bulletin Board.”