nected with them those ideas; and though it appears that the later Jews adopted from the Greeks these notions, among many others. And yet we cannot deny that the olive-tree bore a sacred character in the eyes of the early Israelites; the holy oil used in the Tabernacle and the Temple, was carefully prepared of the fruit of the olive, and every other fuel for the sacred lamps was rigorously interdicted. It is, besides, a familiar fact, that the olive-tree grows even under the water; the greater was, therefore, the propriety of introducing a branch of that tree as the first indication of the abating floods; and it may be finally remarked, that according to a very ancient notion, the olive-tree was regarded as a type of fertility; for Herodotus relates, that the Epidaurians, at a time of barrenness of their soil, were commanded by Apollo to erect statues to Damia and Auxesia (that is, Demeter and Persephone), not of brass or stone, but "of the wood of cultivated olive." The great amount of time and care which the restoration of olive plantations requires after a hostile invasion, or agricultural neglect, is stated among the causes of its selection as an emblem of peace. The earth had been destroyed; desolation prevailed throughout the globe as a consequence of the iniquity of inan; what messenger of returning happiness could be more appro. priate than a dove, the lovely type of purity and atonement through the spirit of God, offering an olive-leaf, the symbol of the renewed fruitfulness of the earth? In this one feature alone we see the whole end of the fearful visitation of the deluge, the relief of man from his in

ternal and external misery; he feels his connection with God as a forgiving father strengthened, and receives the promise of an easier existence; both the sin of Adam, and the awful curse which it had called forth, are to a certain degree removed, or, at least, mitigated. We have given a description of the olive-tree in the commentary on Exodus, p. 370, to which we refer. That the olive-tree grows in Armenia is proved by unquestionable testimony.

15-22.The waters had been withdrawn within their banks and shores; the earth had resumed, in many respects, its former appearance; its surface was no more entirely destitute of vegetable life; the trees put forth their foliage, and the valleys their verdure; the earth was no longer to bear the aspect of desolation and confusion; nowhere was the eye struck by awful indications of a sudden convulsive destruction; the punishment had been suffered, and mercy obliterated the traces of the crime. The globe was ready to receive again its master, and to nourish him, and the num-` berless tribes of the animal creation. On the command of God, Noah and his family left the ark, together with all the living beings which had been preserved by him to secure new tribes of occupants of the air, the fields, and the forests. All the species of animals were restored to the earth; "every beast, every creeping thing, and every fowl" left the ark, that none of the creatures which were once formed by the Divine will, might be wanting; the deluge was not to interrupt the main course of universal history; all the generations, from the beginning to the latest ages, were to be connected by one

unbroken chain: the tree of time was temporarily stripped of its branches and leaves; but its stem was neither felled nor injured; it was full of its native strength, and destined soon to bloom again in all its former richness and beauty. But yet, a new order of things was to begin; therefore, God again blessed the animals with the promise of fruitfulness, desiring them to spread on the earth, which He delights to see replete with life, and to echo with the sound of joy. The renewal of the dominion of man over nature was reserved to a still more solemn moment. For, the pious Noah, who was deeply impressed with the miracle of his deliverance in the midst of the ruin of the globe, felt the irresistible desire of manifesting his gratitude to the Lord of life and death. He built, and consecrated to His name, an altar, and sacrificed upon it burnt-offerings "of every clean beast, and every clean fowl." A more magnificent animal offering was never before nor after brought to God. The whole creation contributed to it whatever species was acceptable to Him.-When Noah left the ark, he found that the variety of the animal creatures was in no way smaller than when he had entered it; they were preserved by the love and wisdom of God; and they had even been blessed anew to spread and to multiply; he felt, with all the intensity of a susceptible mind, the overwhelming debt which he owed to God. His sacrifices were, therefore, essentially thank-offerings. But he was too clearly aware of his own unworthiness of those infinite benefits; he knew, that the hand of destruction had smitten his fellow-men on account of their iniquity; and he was conscious that the evil propensities of the

human heart are too strong to withstand the temptation (ver. 21): therefore, these sacrifices partook, likewise, of the character of sin-offerings. They were, then, offered in that most sacred condition of mind, inexplicably uniting joy and fear, elevation of the soul and contrition of the heart, noble self-consciousness and trembling humility. The strength and the weakness of the human heart are never so wonderfully blended; man sees the light and the shadow of his nature; he attempts the upward flight, but is reminded of his limits. And God accepted the offering of Noah; "He smelled the sweet odour"; and was gratified. Will any one repeat the old objection, that such expressions of external gratification are unworthy of the Deity? If they were of a material or sensuous character, then they would, indeed, be used nowhere with greater impropriety than in this most solemn passage, which forms the connecting link between the world of Adam and that of Noah. But they are far from implying such perverse notions. Their primary meaning might, indeed, have been tinctured by the superstition of the time to which their origin belongs. But, at the period of the Pentateuch, they had lost every idolatrous element which might formerly have attached to them. The refinement of the language had kept, in general, pace with the intellectual and moral progress of the nation; but not always were the words altered when the ideas which they express had undergone a change; they assumed gradually, and almost imperceptibly, a nobler and more spiritual meaning; they were not brought into disuse, but accommodated to the new notions; they were

not replaced by other words, but filled with another meaning. A misunderstanding was the less possible, the deeper the purer ideas had penetrated into the heart of the people. Among the many phrases which have thus been internally metamorphosed, that which occurs in our text is one of the most striking instances. The Hebrews might certainly, in the time of their physical and mental degradation, have shared the universal superstition of the heathen world, that the deities "smell the sweet odour" of the sacrifices, and find their delight in it. But when the multitude of gods gave way, in their convictions, to the One invisible and incorporeal God, who includes them all, the "sweet odour" received a different meaning; it was used as perfectly identical in meaning with delight or pleasure; this is plain beyond controversy from several later passages. The natural vigour of the language applied easily external functions of the senses to abstract notions and to operations of the mind. It would be bold, indeed, to assert, that the Pentateuch which enforces, with all the energy of which language is capable, the incorporeality and spirituality of God, should attribute to Him qualities of the grossest and most sensuous nature; the theology of the Pentateuch forms a consistent system in which one part cannot be in direct opposition with another; but the nature of God is the foundation of the whole system; we cannot doubt the one without destroying the other. The "sweet odour" of the incense or the burnt sacrifices was the spirit of God which hovered round the offerings, as a messenger of rest and peace, and which was hoped to be won or conciliated by the humble piety which had prompted the gift. It is the spirit of God which brought

the chaos of matter into order and harmony; which fills and animates His prophets, and which revives the despondency of an err ing heart, or the dry bones of a sunken nation. Nor did the New Testament reject that phrase, even in reference to its most sacred idea; for, it says: “Christ has given himself for us as an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling savour" (Ephes. v. 2). Thus, the Divine presence graciously accepted the grand sacrifice of Noah; He saw with delight the piety of the only family which had escaped the universal calamity; and He determined never again to expose the earth to so fearful a destruction, but to be mindful of the weakness of the human heart, which, though capable of godlike purity, falls an easy prey to the numberless allurements that surround it. He received the sinoffering of Noah as an atonement for the wickedness of the former generations; the sin of man was no more to be measured after the test of justice, but after that of mercy. God had, during several centuries, judged him after his innate Divine attributes; He now intended to view him with due regard to his human imperfections; He was aware, that though the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak. God proclaimed, that man cannot gain salvation by his own righteousness, but by Divine mercy. By this new and all-important doctrine, the love of God shines in higher splendour; but man sinks into deeper dependence; he lives henceforth not in virtue of his own moral excellence, but in consequence of Divine favour. The intellectual eminence which man had attained by partaking of the fruit of knowledge, was far from securing to him "to be like God"; he might, with his reason, penetrate into the mysteries of creation, but his heart is

feeble and insufficient, and requires the merciful assistance of God. However, this very weakness was destined in future to form man's most powerful protection. For God proclaimed, that although He does not eradicate sin from the heart of man, He regards it not with the severity of a judge, who demands perfect rectitude, but with the love of a father, who indulgently overlooks many offences springing from innate weakness. The deluge had, thus, been necessary, it was indispensable to serve an important end in the government of the moral world; and, though God regretted that it was necessary, He did not "repent" having inflicted it. The fall ended with a curse on the earth, the deluge with the cheering prospect, that it should no more suffer for the sin of man (ver. 21); and if, later, Sodom and Gomorrah were converted into dreary deserts, and Palestine was menaced with fearful desolation for the iniquity of its inhabitants, these visitations did not befall the whole globe, but only certain limited parts or districts.

As long as the earth stands, that is, in eternity, the regular change of the seasons shall not again be suspended, as had been the case in the year of the deluge; seedtime

shall duly alternate with harvest, cold with heat, summer with winter, and day with night. It is evident, that these words express merely the general idea of the future preservation of a regular order in nature; they do not exactly enumerate all the usual changes which the inhabitants of our planet experience; they do not even distinctly specify the four seasons of the year; and still less six parts, as the Persian and Hindoo legends count; for, summer and winter only are clearly mentioned, and although the "seedtime" might correspond with autumn, the "harvest" is certainly not the spring, but the summer. Hereto are joined the general terms of "cold and heat," and, in order to complete the picture of regular succession, “" day and night" are added, from which words we are, therefore, not justified in inferring, that, in the author's opinion, during the year of the flood, the light of the sun was either entirely or generally invisible. The year is, in western Asia, indeed, composed only of two markedly different seasons; the autumn, or rainy season, belongs to the winter; and the spring, or the months of the ripening corn, is reckoned with the summer (see notes on xxvii. 27-29).

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