First, his beloved Rachel was torn from his side in the pangs of Benjamin's birth. Then Reuben committed an unnatural crime, and dishonored his father's name in a way which, on his dying bed, the old patriarch remembered with fatal emphasis. And then came the saddest, longest, darkest, strangest of all — the loss of Joseph, Rachel's firstborn son. For a quarter of a century, perhaps, that weary trial dragged along, and not one ray of light fell on the blackness of his desolation. And then came the years of famine, the necessity for the journey to Egypt for corn, and, the last drop in the overflowing cup, the demand for little Benjamin, too. It was too much for the broken heart to bear, and he cried out in agony, "Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and ye will take Benjamin away; all these things are against me!" But even this drop must be drunk, and all he has on earth must be left in trust and complete abandonment in God's sole hands. And so he waits the issue.
It is enough. The cup is empty at last, and it shall be filled with "a joy so strangely sweet" that even Jacob's faith shall scarcely be able to believe it. To think that God could have for him, after these buried years, so great a joy — not only Benjamin safe, but Joseph, too! Oh! it needed the sight of Joseph's wagons to convince him that it was true, and Jacob cried, "It is enough — Joseph, my son, is yet alive."