But there is yet one point connected with Aaron's robes which demands the reader's special attention, and that is the mode in which the gold was introduced in the making of them. This is presented to us in chapter xxxix, but the interpretation comes in suitably enough in this place. "And they did beat the gold into thin plates, and cut it into wires, to work it in the blue, and in the purple, and in the scarlet, and in the fine linen, with cunning work." (Ver. 3.) We have already remarked that "the blue, the purple, the scarlet, and fine twined linen" exhibit the various phases of Christ's manhood, and the gold represents his divine nature. The wire of gold was curiously insinuated into all the other materials, so as to be inseparably connected with, and yet perfectly distinct from, them. The application of this striking figure to the character of the Lord Jesus is full of interest. In various scenes throughout the gospel narrative, we can easily discern this rare and beauteous union of manhood and Godhead, and, at the same time, their mysterious distinctness. Look, for example, at Christ on the sea of Galilee. In the midst of the storm "He was asleep on a pillow" (precious exhibition of His perfect manhood!); but in a moment He rises from the attitude of real humanity into all the dignity and majesty of Godhead, and, as the supreme Governor of the universe, He hushes the storm and calms the sea. There is no effort, no haste, no girding Himself up for an occasion. With perfect ease, He rises from the condition of positive humanity into the sphere of essential deity. The repose of the former is not more natural than the activity of the latter. He is as perfectly at home in the one as in the other. Again, see Him in the case of the collectors of tribute, at the close of Matthew xvii. As the "Most High God, possessor of heaven and earth," He lays His hand upon the treasures of the ocean, and says, "They are Mine;" and, having declared that "the sea is His, and He made it," He turns round and, in the exhibition of perfect humanity, He links Himself with His poor servant by those touching words, "That take, and give unto them _for Me and thee_." Gracious words!--peculiarly gracious, when taken in connection with the miracle so entirely expressive of the Godhead of the One who was thus linking Himself, in infinite condescension, with a poor, feeble worm. Once more, see Him at the grave of Lazarus. (John xi.) He groans and weeps, and those groans and tears issue from the profound depths of a perfect manhood--from that perfect human heart which felt, as no other heart could feel, what it was to stand in the midst of a scene in which sin had produced such terrible fruits. But then, as the Resurrection and the Life, as the One who held in His omnipotent grasp "the keys of hell and of death," He cries, "Lazarus, come forth!" and death and the grave, responsive to His authoritative voice, throw open their massy doors and let go their captive.