he could only undo the past; if he could only be as he was a short
time ago, clear of this guilt, how thankful he would be! But there it
was, staring him in the face, and he could not blot out the memory of
it. He fancied himself again getting a kid from amongst his flock;
giving it to his mother to dress, so that his father would not know
it from venison; stooping down, while she put on the back of his
neck small pieces of the kid's skin, that it might feel, to the blind
Isaac, like the hairy skin of his brother Esau; carrying in the
smoking-hot dish; telling, one after another, gross falsehoods, in
reply to the questions put by his puzzled father; repeating oft his
assurances that he was indeed Isaac's very son Esau; and bowing his
head to receive the blessing intended for his elder brother. Once
more, in imagination, he was hurrying out of his father's apartment;
and the loud and bitter cry of his wronged brother was ringing
through the tent, never to die away or be forgotten. He saw again his
brother white with rage, and heard him take the solemn oath, that, as
soon as the mourning for his father was over, he would be avenged. He
heard his frightened mother plead with Isaac, that he might be sent
away to her brother in Padan Aram. He heard his father's consent, and
saw his mother packing up the few things that he needed, and sending
him away with her blessing and with floods of tears. He remembered
how, when he had turned round to take a last look at his home; she
was still standing in the door of the tent, watching, as far as she
could see him, the son of her love, and wiping her streaming eyes.

And now he was lying on the bare ground, with only a cold, hard stone
for his pillow: all that he loved left far behind; an unknown future
before him; and wild beasts prowling about in the distance, in hungry
search of prey. How heavily on his conscience lay his deep sin! And
how the pure, bright moon and the peaceful stars seemed to be
reproaching him!

He thought upon his father's God, and his grandfather's trusting
obedience, that had gained for him the title of the friend of the
great Ruler of the universe. And, as he contrasted with Abraham's
faith his own wicked conduct, he felt miserably unworthy to bear his
name. Gladly would he have closed his eyes in repose, and thankfully
would he have forgotten, for a time at least, his heavy sorrows;
but--

"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep,"

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