How nearly that connection had been lost through the death of the forefather of the Israelitish people was recorded in the story of the sacrifice of Isaac. A voice came to Abraham, which he believed to be divine, bidding him offer ‘for a burnt-offering’ the son of his old age, the heir of the covenant which had been made with him. It was a form of sacrifice only too well known in Canaan. In time of pestilence or trouble the parent was called upon to sacrifice to Baal that which was dearest and nearest to him, his firstborn or his only son. The gods themselves had set the example. Once when a plague had fallen upon the land, El had clothed Yeud, his only son, in royal purple, and on one of the high-places of Palestine had offered him up to the offended deities.[61] The doctrine of vicarious sacrifice was deeply enrooted in the minds of the Canaanitish people. But it needed to be a sacrifice which cost the offerer almost as much as his own life. The fruit of his own body could alone wipe away the sin of his soul. And the sacrifice had to be by fire. Only through that purifying element could the stains of sin and impurity be obliterated, and the offering made acceptable to heaven. The practice, horrible as it seems to us, was nevertheless founded on a truth. The victim, if he were to be accepted, must be the most precious that the offerer could present. The gods did not require that which cost him nothing. It needed to be the most costly that could be given; it needed to be also, in the words of the prophet, the fruit of the sinner’s own body. Nothing else would suffice: the gods demanded the firstborn son, still more the only son. In no other way could Baal be satisfied that the sinner had repented of his guilt or had made to him an offering which was of equal value to his own life.