Amoz, Isaiah's father, was of a noble family, very near the throne in Jerusalem, and a dear personal friend of the king. Isaiah, too, was a prime favorite of Uzziah's, not by virtue of his father's friendship for the king, but because of his own fine qualities and excellent disposition.

Often Isaiah had been invited, with the Crown Prince, Jotham, to be present at the Great Councils of State-a very distinguished honor for so young a man. But no one thought, for an instant, that this change in manner and behavior, so noticeable to everyone, had come upon Isaiah because of his grief over the aged king's fatal illness.

Isaiah was being trained to enter upon a political career. His politics was the only serious thing in life for him. The country was so peaceful and prosperous, however, that even politics was a matter of little consequence to most of the royalty in Jerusalem. They lived the joyous life, paid little attention to the Temple and its priests, and often laughed at the whole religious ritual. But when great State functions occurred at the Palace or foreign ambassadors appeared at Court, all royalty celebrated with feasting-and Isaiah was among those present and in high favor.

He always came to these occasions in rare good humor and with cheerful enthusiasm. He was a young man of many accomplishments. His knowledge of affairs was wide and extensive. His cleverness and wit had made him famed far and wide. His occasional poems, written for sport and festivals, showed a genuine talent, almost a genius, for the poetic art. He was considered by all the very life and spirit of the younger Court set. A great future as a statesman and man of letters was predicted for him by everybody.

Now, however, since King Uzziah became so critically ill that his life was despaired of, this unexplainable change took place in Isaiah. He seemed to have quarreled with Prince Jotham, who had been reigning as king since Uzziah was smitten beyond hope of recovery, though both laughed at the rumor and denied it.

What proved the greatest surprise to all, was the fact that Isaiah often went to the Temple and talked earnestly with the priests. At times he would linger about the place long after the evening sacrifices had been offered and the priests had gone home. His jolly friends would make sport of him; but his more sober-minded companions became quite alarmed when, instead of displaying his usual good humor, he spoke with bitter sarcasm. His contagious laugh began to ring forced and hollow. He was morose and always ill at ease, as if he were laboring under a great strain that burdened his heart and mind.

King Uzziah's death was a lingering one. For many weeks reports from the sick chamber were to the effect that he was passing away, but he clung to life. Jerusalem had doffed its gala attire and the whole of Judah was prepared to go into mourning for its king. For a month or more the nobility and the Court had not indulged in any social functions, state or private. The Capital and the country were awaiting the royal funeral.

Uzziah had been a great king and a good ruler. He had done much for the whole country, and especially for the Capital. The mourning in Jerusalem and all through Judah was, therefore, genuine and sincere, when the king died. The pomp and ceremony that characterized the funeral procession were not mere royal show, but expressions of honor and deep regret of a loyal people for its beloved sovereign.

The young Isaiah was accorded an honored place in the long list of notables who followed the body of the king to its last resting place. He walked beside Jotham, his bosom friend; but did not accompany the new king on the return to the palace. In the slight confusion that followed after Uzziah had been "buried with his fathers," Isaiah slipped quietly away and took the road to the Temple Mount.

Taking his way through the Water Gate, on the west side of the Temple, he entered the Inner Court. Then he mounted the twelve steps leading to the vestibule of the Temple proper. Two priests, who had just come out of the chamber where the implements for sacrificing were kept, bowed low to him and passed out into the Inner Court. Isaiah was evidently so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice them, for he did not return their salute, but walked forward to the entrance of the Hekal, or Temple proper.

There he stood for a moment in silence; then he leaned wearily against one of the entrance pillars. Behind him the Priests' Hall and the Inner Court were deserted. Before him, in the Hekal, was the Altar of Incense, on which coals from the recent sacrifices were still alive. To the right of the Altar was the Menorah, the seven-light candlestick, and to the left the table of showbread. Behind these hung the golden curtains that separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the Temple.

A thin line of blue and purple smoke rose from the live coals on the Incense Altar and wound its way upward to the ceiling of the Hekal. As Isaiah watched the rising smoke, it became thicker and thicker, and filled the whole Temple. His eyes gazed from the Altar to the glittering gold curtains behind it. The reflection from the coals, and the playing of the blue and purple smoke on the golden sheets, caused them to sheen and shimmer until they faded entirely away into the blue and purple maze that filled the Hekal.

Isaiah was gazing right into the Holy of Holies, where no human eyes, except those of the High Priest, once a year, ever looked, and behold! he saw a most remarkable vision.

There, instead of the wooden Ark of the Covenant, he beheld a great and lofty throne on which was God, Himself. Instead of the two Cherubim of wood and gold, that surmounted the Ark, he beheld Seraphim, the fiery Angels, standing attendant before Him. Each of the Seraphim had six wings, with two he covered his face, with two he covered his feet and with two he flew. And one cried unto another and said:

"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts,

The whole earth is full of His glory."

Isaiah felt the very foundations of the threshold shake under him, at the sound of the calling. Covering his face with both hands, he cried out:

"Woe is me!

I am undone.

For I am a man of unclean lips.

And I am dwelling among a people of unclean lips;

Yet mine eyes have seen the King, the God of hosts."

Uncovering his face, he stretched out his hands towards the throne in mute appeal. Thereupon one of the Seraphim flew to the Altar and, with a pair of tongs, took from it a live coal. From the Altar the Seraph flew directly to Isaiah and, touching his mouth with the live coal, said:

"See, this has touched thy lips,

Therefore thine iniquity is gone

And thy sin forgiven."

Then Isaiah heard the voice of God Himself, saying:

"Whom shall I send,

And who will go for us?"

Falling to his knees, and again stretching out his hands towards the throne, Isaiah answered:

"Here am I!

Send me!"

Kneeling there, motionless, hardly breathing, his lips apart, his face expressing the fear and anguish that were in his heart, Isaiah heard the reply:

"Go and say to this people:

Hear and hear again, but understand not;

See and see again, but perceive not.

Make fat the heart of this people,

And their ears dull, and besmear their eyes,

Lest they see with their eyes and hear with their ears

And their heart should understand and they be healed."

The force of this message struck Isaiah to the heart. He understood its meaning very well. It was terrible! It carried with it the sound of doom and the end of his nation. The very thought of it terrified him. Holding his head with both hands his back bent forward as under a heavy weight, until his face touched his knees upon the floor, he cried in heartbreaking tones:

"Lord! How long?"

And God answered him:

"Until the cities are in ruin without an inhabitant,

And the houses without a human occupant,

And the land become utterly desolate,

And God hath sent the men far away,

And in the midst of the land the deserted territory be great.

And should there be a tenth in it,

It must in turn be fuel for flame,

Like the terebinth and the oak,

Of which, after falling, but a stump remains."

For a long time after the voice had ceased speaking, Isaiah remained in the position in which he had listened to the last reply.

When, finally, in fear and trembling, he slowly raised his head, the vision had gone! Behind him the Priests' Hall and the Inner Court were deserted. Before him a thin line of blue and purple smoke rose from the live coals on the Incense Altar and wound its way upward to the ceiling of the Hekal.

Isaiah passed his hands over his eyes. For a moment he let his cool palm rest against his burning forehead. Then he slowly found his way out of the Temple and passed out into the silent night.