dwell distinct,
separate from each other and from all other nations, awaiting the day
when blindness shall be removed from the eyes of the children of
promise, and the descendants of Sarah and of Hagar shall be both
gathered with the fold of Christ.

There are Hagars of modern, as well as of ancient days,--of western as
of eastern lands. She who is wedded from interest and convenience; she
who forms a heartless union from pride and ambition; she who awakes from
her dreams of bliss to find herself an unloved, and perhaps to become a
deserted wife--all these prove the bitterness of the lot of the Egyptian
Hagar. He who has ordained marriage has graciously implanted the
affections which are to make it a source of happiness; and those who
form this union under other motives and influences run fearful risks.
There are many Hagars in the highest ranks of life, and even where the
artificial distinctions of society are most highly regarded and
carefully recognised.

When youth is wedded to age or sacrificed to decrepitude to promote some
State policy, though the victims are not clothed in the garb of the
Egyptian slave, but arrayed in the pomp of regal vestments, yet the
diamond often rests upon an aching brow, and the pearls press a
saddened bosom; and when the holiest of earthly institutions is thus
violated, each relation of life is profaned; and polluted streams
descend from the highest sources and diffuse their poison through all
the ranks of life--through all the gradations of society.

There will still be Hagars--women who marry for a home, or a support;
and especially while woman is educated to be helpless--unable to provide
for her own wants; or while that prejudice is cherished which leads her
to deem useful employment a degradation.

* * * * *

HAGAR'S EXILE.

She fled, with one reproachful look
On him who bade her go,
And scarcely could the patriarch brook
That glance of voiceless wo:
In vain her quivering lips essay'd
His mercy to implore;
Silent the mandate she obey'd,
And then was seen no more.

The burning waste and lonely wild
Received her as she went;
Hopeless, she clasp'd her fainting child,
With thirst and sorrow spent.
And in the wilderness so drear,
She raised her voice on high,
And sent forth that heart-stricken prayer
"Let me not see him die!"

Her beautiful, her only boy,