A single day brought Joseph into a totally new position. From being a prisoner in the king's gaol he was suddenly summoned to appear before the great Pharaoh. He found the king in much distress from the pressure of two supernatural dreams, which he could not banish from his mind, and which the magi of Egypt could not explain. The restored butler of Pharaoh had prepared the way for the request that Joseph should become interpreter; and he, protesting that his secret could be revealed only by God, undertook to tell Pharaoh the signification of his dreams. The result was, that the despotic monarch at once elevated Joseph to the highest post in the kingdom next to the throne, and put at his disposal unlimited power to carry out whatever measures he thought best for the welfare of the kingdom. Joseph went out from the presence of Pharaoh armed with full authority to inaugurate those far-reaching and wise arrangements by which the coming years of famine were to be provided for. In this work three things were conspicuous, though the details of them are not given.
1. It was the principle of economy upon which Joseph wrought. The way to provide for the future is to economize in the present, for the waste of plentiful years brings want in years of famine. It is the waste of our abundance that breeds want and poverty. When there is much, we should learn to lay by in store that which is not wanted for present need. This is a very hard lesson to learn. We are all naturally extravagant and wasteful, spending that which we should save, and wasting that which should be laid up in store. Joseph demonstrated that, properly managed, the produce of the earth is sufficient to supply the needs of all men, taking years of plenty and years of scarcity together. God means us to learn how to manage our substance so that in years of plenty there shall be no waste in order that in years of famine there be no lack.
2. Another point which strikes us is Joseph's industry. It must have required a vast amount of careful industry to arrange for the housing of the surplus corn of those seven plentiful years. Houses had to be built. Contracts had to be made. Transportation had to be provided. We doubt not that much authority had to be exercised in compelling the farmers to sell their wheat and cultivate all available land. The perfect success of his plans demonstrates that every detail had been carefully thought out. During all these seven years, so fully occupied was Joseph that he had scarcely time to think of his old home, of his beloved father, or his faithless brothers, although we may be sure that he did not forget them altogether.
3. Joseph showed great patience in his difficult undertaking. He was carrying on all these toilsome works solely upon the authority of the conviction of the truth of his interpretation of Pharaoh's dream. Seven years was a long time to hold fast by a purpose, especially when there was no outward sign of need. But Joseph had learned to wait. Had he not waited thirteen years already for his dreams to begin to be fulfilled? Surely he knew how to wait patiently for other seven years. The people, blinded by their present prosperity, must have thought of him as a visionary dreamer. Well, he had borne that taunt before. Still, it is hard to persevere in the face of unbelief, especially when one's patience is taxed for years upon years. But Joseph lived to see his patience and faith rewarded.
Dr. Gordon's patience was, from a psychological point of view, marvellous. Such constant intrusions, such various and frequent interruptions, such unremitting labour, such continuous expenditure of vitality, would have kept most men in a chronic condition of nervous irritability. Yet no one ever reported a single outbreak of petulance, a single expression of impatience, in his whole career. His heart kept a “high, calm, spheric frame,” undisturbed by the exasperating incidents which beset every one who has to deal largely with the helpless, the broken and the weak.1 [Note: E. B. Gordon, A. J. Gordon: A Biography, 188.]
Plodding, common-place workman though Patience seem, hers is a work that, will we let it, comes to a wonder of perfection. There is an air about things her hand has been on that is as unmistakable as it is indescribable. Not to sudden and bold strokes does the marble owe its utmost perfectness. No, but to the silent, oft-repeated passages of the chisel over the stone, little more than audible in the occurrence, almost imperceptible in the separate result-it is these that leave the statue a marvel and a desire. Let us “run with patience.”1 [Note: R. W. Barbour, Thoughts, 40.]
Patience! why, 'tis the soul of peace:
Of all the virtues, 'tis nearest kin to heaven:
It makes men look like gods. The best of men
That e'er wore earth about Him was a sufferer;
A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit;
The first true gentleman that ever breathed.2 [Note: Thomas Dekker.]
