and to thy seed after thee" (xiii. 14, 15). How truly gracious it is of the Lord to enable His servant to make a sacrifice for Him, and then reward that sacrifice by a vast increase of blessing. Such are His ways--His ever adorable ways. We are now called to trace in Abram the development of a feature which, in a special manner, demonstrates the high order of his communion with God. After all God's revelations and promises to him, his soul still breathes after an object without which all besides was defective. True, he had surveyed, with the eye of faith, the promised inheritance--the magnificent gift of divine benevolence; yet, notwithstanding all this, was there a great desideratum--a mighty blank. He sighed for a SON. A son _alone_ could render complete, in Abram's estimation, all his previous privileges. "And Abram said, Lord God, what wilt thou give me, seeing I go childless, and _the steward of my house is this Eliezer of Damascus_. And Abram said, Behold to me thou hast given no seed: and lo, _one born in my house_ is mine heir" (vers. 2, 3). Now, we have, in tracing the path of this remarkable man, beheld him, at times, displaying some very noble features of character. His generosity--his high elevation of mind--his pilgrim-like habits--all these things denote a man of the very highest order; yet I hesitate not to say, that we find him, in the passage just quoted, exhibiting a temper of soul, more in harmony with the mind of heaven than anything we have met hitherto. Abram desired to have his house enlivened by the cry of a child. He had been long enough conversant with the spirit of bondage breathed by "the steward of his house," but the titles of _lord_ and _master_, though all very good in their place, could not satisfy the heart of Abram, for Abram had been taught of God, and God ever instructs His children in those things which He loves, and which He exhibits in His dealings with them. And I would just observe, in connection with this, that we see in the case of the prodigal in Luke xv., the development of a principle very much in connection with what we have been saying. He says, in the very midst of all his misery "I will arise and go unto my Father, and will say unto him, _Father_." Here we have a fine feature in the character of this poor wanderer. He had such a sense of the grace of him against whom he had sinned, that he could yet say "_Father_" notwithstanding his long course of rebellion and folly.