It is not a little remarkable that the candlestick is the only part of the furniture of the tabernacle introduced in this place. We have nothing about the golden altar, nothing about the golden table. The candlestick alone is before us, and that not in its covering of blue and of badgers’ skins, as in chapter iv, where it, like all the rest, is seen in its traveling-dress. It is here seen lighted, not covered. It comes in between the offerings of the princes and the consecration of the Levites, and sheds forth its mystic light according to the commandment of the Lord. Light cannot be dispensed with in the wilderness, and therefore the golden candlestick must be stripped of its covering, and allowed to shine in testimony for God, which, be it ever remembered, is the grand object of every thing, whether it be the offering of our _substance_, as in the case of the princes; or the dedication of our _persons_, as in the case of the Levites. It is only in the light of the sanctuary that the true worth of any thing or any one can be seen. Hence, the moral order of the whole of this part of our book is striking and beautiful; indeed, it is divinely perfect. Having read, in chapter vii, the lengthened statement of the princes’ liberality, _we_, in our wisdom, might suppose that the next thing in order would be the consecration of the Levites, thus presenting, in unbroken connection, “our persons and offerings.” But no; the Spirit of God causes the light of the sanctuary to intervene, in order that we may learn in it the true object of all liberality and service in the wilderness. Is there not lovely moral appropriateness in this? Can any spiritual reader fail to see it? Why have we not the golden altar, with its cloud of incense, here? why not the pure table, with its twelve loaves? Because neither of these would have the least moral connection with what goes before or what follows after; but the golden candlestick stands connected with both, inasmuch as it shows us that all liberality and all work must be viewed in the light of the sanctuary, in order to ascertain its real worth. This is a grand wilderness-lesson, and it is taught us here as blessedly as type can teach us. In our progress through the book of Numbers, we have just read the account of the large-hearted liberality of the great heads of the congregation, on the occasion of the dedication of the altar; and we are about to read the record of the consecration of the Levites; but between the one and the other the inspired penman pauses, in order to let the light of the sanctuary shine on both.