the mercy seat upon the ark. As you must know, even Aaron the high priest was cautioned against approaching this place too often, for it was very holy. According to this account, God gives a book to his people, but he locks it up in a box, and places the box behind a veil, then fixes a seat upon the box which He Himself, occupies. How could the people, under these circumstances, get at the book? But it was not meant that they should. Ah, we have here a fine illustration of what we may call the craft of the priest, or priestcraft. They announce a revelation from God, but they will not permit anyone to take it home and read it. It is locked up in a box, and God himself is made to sit on the box.

The grass dies without air and light. The birds pine away in a cage. Even the worms which creep in damp holes, come out for a glimpse of the light, now and then; but the word of God hides in the darkness of the ark, and fears the searching gaze of man! Was it born to be buried in a wooden tomb,—born to be locked up in a shittim-wood chest,—born to blink at the light! Ah, the precious priests! The sun may be seen by everybody, the stars shine in the open, but the Word of God, like a bashful maid, shrinks from observation, and sneaks into a closet. To this day, the Catholics have to go to a closet—that is to say they have to secure permission, before they can read the Word of God.[1]

To show that we have Bible authority for the statements made above, we will quote from the Book of Deuteronomy, chapter xxxi, verse 24, etc:

"And it came to pass, when Moses had made an end of writing the words of this law in a book, until they were finished. That Moses commanded the Levites which bare the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord, saying: Take this book of the law, and put it in the side of the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord, your God, that it may be there for a witness against thee."

The directions are specific. And the people's reverence for the ark or the chest containing the inspired words of God increased a thousandfold.

Let us continue: The book of the law is now in the box, with the lid closed, and the deity sitting on the lid. Surely, it will be impossible for the book ever to get lost. But it did get lost. We will tell its story presently. But first let us speak of the jealousy with which the priests watched the ark. In times of war when the Jews were compelled to move the ark from one place to another, everybody was strictly forbidden from touching it, or looking into it. On one occasion, while they had the chest containing the two tables of stone and the Book of the Law, on an ox-cart, moving it to a place of safety, the cart jostled and the ark tipped. One of the drivers, Uzzah, instinctively, put forth his hand to steady the sacred chest. He was instantly killed. He touched the ark, and that was a crime. One must not even touch the box to save it from falling, much less read and investigate the book hidden therein. Every precaution was taken to protect the Bible from being investigated. God did not guard the tree of knowledge more zealously than did the priests the book of the law.

There were some people, however, who were curious enough to peep into the ark, in spite of the threats of the rabbis. To scare these people, the awful words,—sacrilege, impiety, profanity,—blasphemy,—were invented. When these failed, murder was resorted to. Listen to this story: The people of Beth-Shemesh, being of an inquiring mind, one day, they approached the ark and peeped into it, or tried to. Well; riot and massacre followed! The Lord "smote the men of Beth-Shemesh because they had looked into the ark of the Lord, even he smote of the people fifty thousand and three score and ten men,"—fifty thousand and seventy. The rabbis charged this wholesale massacre to the deity. All successful murderers do the same. But we must admit the priests took excellent care of the ark and its contents. Unfortunately, however, it is now nearly three thousand years since the ark was last heard of. Where is it now?

But to return to our story:

Many years after the time we are now speaking of, when King Solomon finished his magnificent temple, in Jerusalem, he ordered the ark to be opened. How he dared to disobey the priests, I cannot tell, but kings enjoy special privileges, and perhaps, he had never heard that there was a prohibition against even touching the ark. When the ark was opened, lo! and behold! the Book of the Law which Moses had commanded to be put inside the ark was not there.

It was not there!

In 2nd Kings, eighth chapter, ninth verse, we read that when they opened the ark:

"There was nothing in the ark save the two tables of stone."

In other words, the book which we read about in the former quotation from the Bible, and which contained most valuable divine instructions to the people, had disappeared. The ark contained only two stones, which too, in due time, went the way of the book, and no one knows where they are at the present time. Ark and stones and book, as they are nowhere to be found, there is a bare possibility that they have returned to heaven whence they came.

But let us follow the story: The book was not in the ark.

What fate had befallen it? Was it never put there? When Uzzah, and the five thousand and seventy men were killed for touching the ark, was it empty? Solomon had the lid of the chest removed, and he found therein no "Book of the Law," which was ordered to be placed there "as a witness."

Then followed a stretch of centuries in which the Book of the Law is not heard of. Oblivion now began to spread its dusty wings upon the memory of it. Yet, suggests Saladin, the old world jogged along as usual; the sun rose and set; the moon, as ever before shed its romantic light upon sea and shore. Lovers paired, and children, like a flock of swallows, visited our earth. They toiled, grew old and died—without any Book of the Law.

There is a third chapter in the biography of the Bible. Three hundred and fifty years after Solomon had fallen asleep with his fathers, one morning,—I cannot tell whether it was on a fair or on a foul day, Hilkiah,—remember that name,—Hilkiah! the high priest, knocked on the door of Shaphan, King Josiah's private secretary, and begged for a private interview,—a tete-a-tete, as the French would say. Leaning over, he whispered in the ears of the King's minister, slowly and solemnly, as one who is burdened with some compelling news,—that—he—had—just—found—"The Book of the Law" which had been lost for three hundred and fifty years!

The two men paused and looked at each other for a moment. Yes, Hilkiah, the high priest, had found the book which had been lost for three hundred and fifty years! And where? In the Temple! Had the king's minister been in an inquiring mood, he might have asked some questions: Was the book lying there all these years and not a man stumbled upon it? Or was it just put there for Hilkiah to find it? If it had been lost for three hundred years or more, how could Hilkiah tell that the book he found was the same that Moses wrote and ordered kept in the shittim-wood chest? If Hilkiah made any changes in the book, how is the world to know which is Hilkiah's and which is Moses' contribution to the Bible? But the questions were not asked. Besides, faith can shut its small eye to even greater difficulties than are involved in Hilkiah's discovery.

When the King heard this extraordinary news, he must have doubted the word of the high priest, for he