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---               -   ---   -----—:0 0 000:000;~e; -   --   -     ---— 0000
Adz- 1                 L           o           l           0           0           0          0           0          0          0          0          0         0         --:<: =|S:::::::-::l::w:<:::j::::-                                                                                                                                                  -:::::::::::::::::::~:-~:~~~~~~~~~:~::::::::_::-::: —---  ---
----------------- -  ---------............




THE
HN. LORIE
JOIIN     tO:'      fOWRIE,   DAY.
AUoTHOR OF A WEEK WITH JESUS," "THE HEnRE EW LAWGrVER9
T" THE TRANSLATED PROPHET," SC., &C.
PHILADELPHIA:
PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICA'TION
No. 821 CHIESTNUT STRiEET.




:Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by
THE TRUSTEES Or THE
PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
Io the Olerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Eastern  District of Pennsylvania.
WESTTOTT  & THioMsoN
Stereotypers, Plilada.




IPEF ACE
THe two volumes which immliediately preceded this oneviz., I IThle Translated Prophet" and "tElisha. the Prophet''
were the last of the Author's which he was himself permritted to prepare for the press. Though designed for ultimate publication, the present volume. as left by the Author
at his decease, needed some revision before being sent to
the public.  These lessons had all been enforced from the
pulpit.  Much that is pertinent and necessary. befbre a congregation would be out of place in a volume like this; the
MS. has, therefore, been carefully revised, and the attempt
has been made to do this work in accordance with the known
plan of the Author in preparing his lectures for publication
-with how much embarrassment the reader may well imagine.
With the hope that this book may meet a like acceptanee
with those already issued —that through it the works of the
blessed dead may follow him, and above all that the blessed
gospel of the Son of David may be widely proclaimed
through its instrumentality-it is now given to the public.
M. B. L








C O N T IE N T S.
INTRODUCTION......,.......................
CHAPTER I.
PDAVID CHOSEN FOR THE TtHRONE.............,,,,......,,,,,,,...s,,.. 171
CHAPTER ILT
THE VICTORY OVER. GOlIATH o.....o.9.. t.......    * 9 G G. 999...9sG.e 30
CHAPTER III.
DAXVID'S TnROUIBLES FROM SAULJL..,,-,,,,,,...........,,,,.5 0
CHAPTER IV.
THr Pr, IENDSHIP OF DAVID AND JONATHl.N.eao......e      s............... 71.
CHAPTERI V..)AVID'S  xaa. IT TO Non AND GATHt......................... 91
CHAPTER VI.
TN4 PERSERCUTIONS OF SAUL........,,.......,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,.6...i.
CHAPTEr, VIl
sAUL AND TIHEI, W ITCIH OF ENDOR...fo................................. 128




(  CO. NrTE'S.
CHAPTER Viii.
PAGI 
ZIKLAG SPOILED AND PRECOVERED,.....).............O................ 1-8
CHAPTER IX.:DA VIDS RI T1CN INT HIlI 3ON:........................... t.... i 
CHIAPTER X.
THE REST FOuiND'PO, TrII  ATK,,...,...,.........,......................    9,  
CHAfPTER XI.
DAVID'S DESIRE TO BUILI) THE TEMPLE.,,..................,.  200
CHI-APTER XII.
TIHE LATTER WAYS OF DAVID....,....,.............,,... 213
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID........,..,,.,,....O........... 235
CHAPTER XIV.
THOUGHTS ON THE FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS............... 257
CHAPTER XV.
THE TREASON OF ABSALOMR......................................  2.,  8
CHAPTERP XVI.
THE PROGRESS OF THE RPEBELLION..,............................... 305
CHAPTER X \ TII.
GRIEF FOR THr DEATfl OF ABSALO..................................   326
CHAPTER XVII.,
TnE REBELLION  ENDED  A.-ND THE GIBEONITES AVENGED,......... 3 43




CONRTENTS.                            7
CHAPTERl XIX
PAGE
Tip PESTrILENCE OF THE NUMiBERING............................... 363
CHAPTER XX.o
PREPARATION FOR BUILDING THE, TrPLE.......................... 378
CHAPTER XXI.
THE i) DATH OF SHIME  AND JOAB................................. osO      394
CHAPTER XXII.
D)AVID s   DYING WORDS TO SOLOaION,o-0 O..........................J  414
CHAPTER XXIIL
CHARACTERISTICS OF D)AYI).............Bs.C 0... 5 0..a. C 5 433








INTRODUCTION.
IT has been said, perhaps with truth, that the wellwritten and truthful memoir of any man that ever lived would
be profitable for any other man to read. Close observers of
%men and manners have said that they could learn lessons of
wisdom from. every one they met; and while it is wisdom
rather earthly-minded than pure that has immortalized for
man the celebrated line of an English poet, yet we will
acknowledge its profundity and wisdom if we are but allowed to alter a single brief word —
A "proper study of mankind is man."
It may indeed be said that man cannot be studied properly
without rising to the Creator, with the knowledge of whom
manl19' best interests are thoroughly identified; yet it is
true, certainly, that thousands admire the poet's apothegml
and feel no obligation from it to study God or their duties
to him; and we need to be admonished that the study of
the lower branches of science does not so fairly include the
higher as the study of the higher includes the lower.
You can find many a man who has studied the alphabet and
the multiplication table without knowing anything' of rhetoric
or algebra; but you cannot find any man that has studied
oratory andt algebra who yet is ignorant of letters and num



10                  INTRODUJCTION~
berzs.  You may find many men who study human nature
and natural things around them, while they think but little
of God; but no nman ever studies the character of God,
understands his law and loves his service, who is willing to
be ignorant of what man is, or to be indolent in what he
should do toward man. We would change the poet's line,
and say,
1" The proper study of manakind is" GoD.
Yet  much of our studies concerning God is through man,
and practically bears upon the duties of life around us.
The philosophy of human feeling and action we do well to:study: and we have..many lessons to learn through our
fellow mortals.  The hurman race is a unit, not only as descended of one man, but as inheriting the same characteristics, necessities and  obligations.  The temptations to
which men are subject; are greatly alike; the principles of
duty in every land and in every age are substantially the
same; and the peculalrities which arise from the individual
disposition, fiom the age to which he belongs, from the education he has received and from  the circumstances with
which he conmes in contact, do only serve to impart interest
to the lessons taught us in his life.  Of course the life of
many a man, fairly written, would be profitable only from its
lessons of deep and solemn warning, as we erect a tall and
brilliant lighthouse upon the deceitful and dangerous rock
where a noble ship has foundered.  For it is obvious to
revery thoughtful mind that the lessons we get from biographies as they are written are not without their dangers.
The first danger is fromi the partial views they present to
us of tie truth. The cha.racters of their subjects are not




INTR OD U CTIONX                 -]..
fairly drawn; the good in theim is exaggerated; tfhe evil
in them is palliated, perhaps even applauded and vindicated, and made the dangerous allurement to lead others
astray. The proftable influence of any character implies
its just exhibition. The memoir of a bad man must but
make his vices attractive; the biography of a good man
should not make him faultless, and thus lift him above the
level of true humanity. As we know in our own experienee that history, while it has its real interest and profit
in the barest annals, yet derives its attractions largely from
the historian —while, without impeaching their veracity, we
find a great difference between two narrators of the same
historical events, and while we know that fainilia  events'
acquire a new and absorbing  interest from the graphic pen
of a new delineator —-so almost as much, for the profit of
any biogr}aphy, depends -upon the writer as upon the subject
of it.  The elements of value in any life nmay be overlooked
by the unskilful biographer, but will be discerned and presented by a wise writer. But besides the danger arisiing
from  partial views of t.ruth, there is a second danger in
biography that tue readers, especially the youthful ones,
may be led servilely to copy the examples held up for their
imitation.  And the tendency is to copy defects rather than
excellences —errors rather than virtues,
Yet there are means by which these and other dangers
may be avoided; and there are certainly umany advantages
in religious biographies, as we now speak especially of
them, which we ought to secure. No mian should ever
be a close copyist of any other man.  In God's works of
creation and providence scarcely anything is more remark-.




12                  1NT rrOD UCTIION.
able than that infinite diversity by reason of which no
two things are ever exactly alike. NI o one  Ran is exactly
like any other man, but every one has his peculiarities
that are individual to himself alone; and he will likely be
the most successful in everything, as he will certainly be
the happiest and the most useful, who acts just like himself.  Let us study others to learn P.RINCIPLES; tO see
dangers and avoid them; to discern duties and practice
them; not to copy their manners, nor to suppose that the
plans we should adopt have been stereotyped in past experience.  The principles we need for our instruction are
more interesting and more impressive when set forth in a
good example than otherwise; and there is an insensible
growth in likeness to those whom  we study and admire.
We must learn to distinguish, to avoid errors and to follow
virtues, but also carefully observe times and circumstances,
propriety and adaptedness.  Perhaps it was to meet the
exact necessities of human instruction that the scriptural
writers give us so many biographies.  It is our wisdom to
study these, and to tarry upon them  long enough to muake
our just practical reflections.  Here, by the unerring pen
of inspiration, have we given to us faithful exhibitions of
men  ~ bof like passions with ourselves:" they have their
faults, and these are not hidden; their virtues are not
magnified; and in their study we have only to guard
against this danger-which is common to all our efforts to
interpret divine teachings-that we are liable to misconceive the facts and principles here brought before us.
We perhaps too seldom reflect upon the fact, that in all
1he departments of knowledge, in earthly as well as in




INT'ROD'UCTION.                     1 3
heavenly matters, even divine teachings to tle soul of man
labour under great disadvantages, arisilng fromU the ignoranee
and stupidity of the scholar.  Unless the very nature of
thlings was altered in the present state of our existence,
capacity and aptness in the scholar are as needful to instruction as wisdom in the teacher.  God is ever teaching
men, yet, as a race, how little do we learn!  -Divine lessons are written upon the stars above us, upon the hills
and'valleys and plains around us, upon the earth and in
the'waters beneath us, and -upon our own hearts within us.
Divine lessons have been taught by Providence in- all ran's
history; are taught now in the commerce and travel, in the
progress and decayt in tfhe peace and war of nations; yet
how few are coimpetent to read correctly and to interpret
wisely the Jlessons  taught! Astronomy spreads above -us
the spangled banler of her wide domains, and the stars
have been set fior ages upon its azure folds, yet how few
mlen are astronori ers!  Meta.phbysics have exhibited tlheir
phenomena within himself to every living mnant yet htow
rare aroe l1meantal philosophlers t Men have used the fruits
of the earth since the dary that (Aod plaanted a garden in
Eden;  for ages they hiave enjoyed the light and heat and
air of heaven;  for generations they have wondered at the
disturbed strata, of the earlths surfihce and at the scattered
rerazins of past revolutions that are so often found;  and
the ceaseless swellings of hutman ambition and covetousness
have placed before them the lessons of history and political
economy; and yet, with all this, how fiw amoong men have
been intelligent in these things I —hlow few have been botanists, geologists, political economists, plilosophers or histo



14-                ]iJN-rT LO) U'CTTION. O T1
rians! Men often wonder wbhy so many different teachings
are drawn fi'om the Bible, and they even use the cavil as
an argument against its  ivitle authority.  But, unless we
fall into blank atheism, we should as well wonder that, God
teaches men every other thing so obscurely that the hummau
learners of this Divine Teacher have opinions as widely diversified upon every other subject.  God teaches men law,
medicine, philosophy, history, geology, astronomy; i. e.,
every true student notices. classifies and endeavours to colmprehend the facts as they appear, draws just principles.fi'om  them, and t.hus the sciences are elaborated.  God
made the heavens antd orders them; man studies God's
work, and just so far as he comprehends it he is an astronomner. God places before us in this fallen' world certain
phenomena of disease; just so fahr as man understands
these, in their causes, symptoms and cures, he is a physician.  So he who observes and classifies wisely the proper
faets and principles for human government is a jurist; he
that properly understands the laws of nature is a philosopher; he that knows what are the earth's strata, and can
justly explain the occurring phenomena, is a geologist.
Now look at the crude and clashing opinions upon all these
matters in all the earth. The lessons have been the same
stubstantially in all ages and climes, except as some ages
and nations have wrought out for themselves better advantages of studying them,  But are men agreed? Have they
always been agreed to understand alike the lessons they
taught?  Are even the most intelligent and scientific jurists, physicians, geologists agreed  upon more than elelentay principles inll the  matters they study most?  Now,




INTRIOD UCTIONef,                 I 5
in this state of things whom are we to blame?  Is the fault
in the Great Teacher' of all knowledge or in the vast variety of fooli.sh scholars?  MAen everywhere mtistake God's
true teachings, and he wisely demlands that only the ihuntble and diligent shall become truly wise.  If we inquire
into this natter candidly, we will find that in the Bible we
have God's very plainest teachings to the sons of men.
Here men nimay most easily learn what he designs to teach;
here the earnest and sincere learners are less liable to mistake than anywhere else in God's teachings. The instructions of this holy volume have their analogies to God's
teachings elsewhere.  He designs to educate the souls of
men. Hei wishes- to make men thinkl.   Bible so plain
that we need not even study it would be a, calanmity, if, indeed it is possible for man to learn any truth without exercising his faculties.  But the cause of different and jarring
opinions -upon matters here taught with sufficient plainness
is rather to be sought in the aversion, carelessness and prejudices of man as a student of the Bible. It requires but
little observation to prove that the diversities among men
around us spring more fioom  the neglect of the Bible than
fiorn the study of it,; and many a man has settled religious
opinions, and is strenuous to maintain them, when he knows
little or nothling of the book which God has given. Possibly the time is far distant when thoughtful men will learn
to take the same views upon any subject, but certainly religious people will think more alike when they less intermingle humnan devices with divine teachings; as we m:ay
easily discern now that the careful, humble, devotional
students of what God teaches here, though circumlstances




1 6                I-NTRODUCTION.
may have thrown thenl into different worshipping societies,
are yet generally  ewry close together, both in their faith and
love toward God their common Father and in their zealous
efforts to live a godly life among their fellow-men.  N*orI are
men ever afrtaid to trust the integrity of any one whlen they
judge that he honestly believes and truly loves the Bible.
The sacred biography that we now take up is that of one
of the remarkable men of the Bible.  The patience and
forbearance of the reader may sometimes be taxed, as
scenes of minor interest occur in every man's life; but
these, though they mnay occupy less attention and space,
cannot be omitted, for the sake of the connection. But the
general train of such a life should give us much interesting
instruction; and we look the more for this, because his life
and history take up more of the inspirecd pages than any
other, excepting Mioses and the incomparable history-that
of our Lord Jesus Christ himself.




THE
ilE OF DAVIi
JOHN  M. LOWRIE, D.TD,.AUTHOR OF o "A WEEX WITH JESUS, SC"THE HRBEEw LAWOIVER, T' THE TRANSLATED. PROPHET"'  &e., &PE
PHILADELPHIA:
PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION'
No, 821 CHESTNUT STREET.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by
THE TRISTEES oF TIE
PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
In the Clerk's Offlce of the District Court of the United States for the
E-astern District of Pennsylvania.
tWESTOTT  &  ThOMSON,
Stereotypers, Philada.




P g E F A C E.
THE two voluxmes which immlediately preceded this oneVi.  "' (The Transl~ated Prophet'  and' Elisha the Prophet"''were the last of the Author's which he was himself permitted to prepare for the press. Though designed for ultimate publication, the present volunme, as left by the Author
at his decease, needed some revision before being sent to
the public.  These lessons had all been enforced from  the
pulpit.  MIuch that is pertinent and necessary before a congregation would be out of place in a v-olumne like this; the
MIS. has, therefore, been carefully revised, and the attempt
has been inmade to do this work in accordance with the known
plan of the Author in preparing his lectures fbr publication
— with how niuch eimbarrassument the reader miayy well imagine.
With the hope that this book may nmeet a like acceptance
with those already issued —that throutgh it the works of the
blessed dead may follow him, and above all that the blessed
gospel of the Son of David imay be widely proclaimedc
through its instrumentality-it is now given to the public.
M. B. L.
3








C(O NTE NTS.
PAME
CHAPTER I.
DAViD CHOSENr FOR  HE THON.E.....,,,...,.,.......,,,...........  17
CHAPTER H.
THE ViblCTORY OVER GOLIATH.............................       30
CHAPTER IIIE
DAVID's TROUBLES FRON SAUL-..................................   50
CHAPTER IV.
THl  FSRIENDSHIP OF DhAVID AND JONATHAN..,,,,..,,.,,,,......... 71
CHAPTER V.
DAVID'S FLIGHT TO NOB AND G&ATHUT.............OsbP............o...a  91
CHAPTER VI
TrF PERSECUrTIONS OP SaUL 9,,     t0|t...........,....................    11
CHAPTER VII.
SA.r, AND TrHE WITCH orF  ENDOR...,.,.,........,,,,............  128




CHAPTER VTIi.
PACE
ZIrL.AG SPOILED AND IRECOVERIED............................... 1.48
CHAPTER IX.
DAVID'S REIGN IN  IEBRON................................................ 164
CHAPTER X,
TI'E BEST FOiJND FoR THE ARiK...................................... 1 79
CHAPTER XI.
D)AVI])'s DESIRE TO BUTILD TIE TEMPLE................................ 200
CHAPTER XII,
THE LATTER  WAYS OF D)AID........,................................. 213
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID..,................................. 235
CHAPTER XIV.
THOUGHTS ON THE FAIULT ]FOUND WITHI CHRISTIANS............... 257
CHAPTER XV.
RTHE TREASON  OF ABSATLOMt................................................ 286
CHAPTER PXVI
THE PROGRESS 0O' THE REBELLION.......................... 305
CHAPTER XVII.
GRIEF FOR THE  D)EATH OF AnsAL0 O................................ 326
CHfAPTER XVYIIt
TIE- RN EBELLIT)N ENDI))D AND T-HE (nIBrI.;ONITLS AVEsNGOED......... 343




CONTENTS.                               7
CHAPTER XIX.
$THn  Pr.ILSTENCF, O  TIE NNUiMBERIN........................... 3,63
CHAPTER XX.
PREPARATION rFO  BUILDING THE TEMPLE........................... 378
CHAPTER XXL
TIHE DEATH OF SHIIM[EI AND JOAB................................   394CHAPTER XXIL
DAVID's DYING WORDS TO SOLOMON................................... 414
CHAPTER XXIIL
HARACTEERISTICS OF DAYXD........,,,,,,,,,............,,,,,... b,... 433








INTRODUCTIONI
IT has been said, perhaps with truth, that the well-written and truthful me-moir of any man that ever lived woulcI
be profitable for any other man to read.  Close observers of
men. and manners have said that -they could learn lessons of
wisdom from every one they met; and while it is wisdom
rather earthly-minded than pure that has immortalized for
ma.n the celebrated line of an English poet, yet we will
acknowledge its profundity and wisdom if we are but al
lowed to alter a single brief wordA "proper study of mankind is man.'".It  ay indeed be said that man cannot be studied properly
without rising to the Creator, with the knowledge of whom
man's best interests are thoroughly identified; yet it is
true, certainly, that thousands admire the poet's apothegm,
and feel no obligation fi0om it to study God or their duties
to him; and we need to be admonished that the study of
the lower branches of science does not so fairly include the
higher as the study of the higher includes the lower,
You can find many a man who has studied the alphabet and
the multiplication table without knowing anything of rhetoric
or algebra; but you cannot find any man that has studied
oratory and algebra who yet is ignorant of letters and numi




tO                 ITRODTTCH5TON.
bers.  You may find many men who study human nature
and natural things around them, while they think but little
of God; but no man ever studies the character of God,
understands his law and loves his service, who is willing to
be ignorant of what man is, or to be indolent in what he
should do toward man.  We would change the poet's line,
and say,
" The proper study of mankind is" GoD.
Yet much of our studies concerning God is through man,
and practically bears upon thGe duties of life around us.
The philosophy of hunman feeling and action we do well to
study: and we have many lessons to learn through our
fellow mortals. The human race is a unit, not only as descended of one man, but as inheriting the same characteristics, necessities and obligations.  The temlptations to
which men are sutbject are greatly alike; the principles of
duty in every land and in every age are substantially the
same; and the peculiarities which arise from the individual
disposition, from the age to which he belongs, from the education he has received and from  the circumstances with
which he comes in contact, do only serve to impart interest
to the lessons taught us in his life.  Of course the life of
many a man, fairly written, would be profitable only from its
lessons of deep and solemn warning, as we erect a tall and
brilliant lighthouse upon the deceitful and dangerous rock
where a noble ship has foundered. For it is obvious to
every thoughtful mind that the lessons we get. from biographies as they are written are not without their dangers.
The first danger is from the partial views -they present to
us of the truth. The characters of their subjects are not




INTROPUDCTTO()  
f.irly drawn; the good in them is exaggerated; the evil
in them is palliated, perhaps even applauded and vindic
cated, and muiade the dangerous allurement to lead others
astray.  The profitable influence  of any character implies
its just exhibition. The ramemoir of a bad man m1ust but
mlake his vices attractive; the biography of a good man
should not make hiMm faultless, and thus lift him above the
level of true humanity.  As we know in our own experience that history, while it has its real interest and profit
in the barest annals, yet derives its attractions largely froim
the historian —while, without impeaching their veracity, we
find a great difference between two narrators of the same
historical events, and while we know that familiar events
acquire a. new and absorbing interest fron the graphic pen
of a new delineator —-so almost as much, for the profit of
any biography, depends upon the writer as upon the sulbject
of it. The elements of value in any life may be overlooked
by the unskilful biographer, but will be discerned and presented by a wise writer. But besides the danger arising
from  partial views of truth, there is a seconed danger in
biography that the readers, especially the youthful ones,
uay be led servilely to copy the examples held up for their
imitation.  And the tendency is to copy defects rather than
excellences-errors rather than virtues.
Yet there are means by which these and other dangers
may be avoided; and there are certainly muany advantages
in religious biographies, as we now speak especially of
them, which we ought to secure. No man should ever
be a close copyist of any other nian.  In God's works of
creation and providence scarcely anything is more remark



] 2                INTRODU(CTTON.
able than that infinite diversity by reason of which (no
two things are ever exactly alike.  -N'o one man is exactly
like any other man, but every one has his peculiarities
that are individual to himself alone; and he will likely be
the most successful in everything, as he will certainly be
the happiest and the most useful, who acts just like himself.  Let -us study others to learn PRINCIPLES; to see
dangers and avoid them; to discern duties and practice
thenm; not to copy their mlanners, nor to suppose that the
plans we should adopt have been stereotyped in past experience.  The principles we need for our instruction are
more interesting and more impressive when set forth in a
good example than otherwise; and there is an insensible
growth in likeness to those whomn we study and admire.'We must learn to distinguish, to avoid errors and to fbllow
virtues, but also carefully observe times and circumstances,
propriety and adaptednesso  Perhaps it was to meet the
exact necessities of human instruction that the scriptural
writers give us so many biographies.  It is our wisdom to
study these, and to tarry upon them  long enough to malke
our just practical reflectionso  Here, by the unerring pen
of inspiration, hlave we given to us fhithful exhibitions of
mnen "iof lile passions with ourselves:" they have their
faults, and these are not hidden; their virtues are not
lnagnified; and in their study we have only to guard
against this danger —which is comnaon to all our efforts to
interpret divine teachings —that we are liable to miseonm
ceive the facts and principles here brought before us.
We perhaps too seldom reflect upon the fet, that in all
the departments of knowledge, in earthly as well as in




INTRODUCTION'                      113
heavenly matters, even divine teachings to the soul of iman
labour under great disadvantages, arising from the ignorance
and stupidity of the scholar.  Unless the very nature of
things was altered in the present state of our existence,
capacity and aptness in the scholar are as -needful to instruetion as wisdom in the teacher.  God is ever teaching
men, yet, as a race, how little do we learn!   Divine lessons are written upon the stars above us, upon the hills
and valleys and plains around us, upon the earth and in
the waters beneath us, and upon our own hearts within us.
Divine lessons have been taught by Providenuce in all man's
history; are taught now in the commerce and tra vel, in the
progress and decay, in t;he peace and war of nations; yet
how few are competent to read correctly and to interpret
wisely the lessons taught! Astronomny spreads above us
the spangled banner of her wide domains, and the stars
have been set for: ages upon its azure folds, yet how few
men are astronomers!,Ietaphysics h ave  exhibited their
phenomena within himself to every living man, yet how
rare are mental philosophers! Men have used the fruits
of the earth since the day that God planted a garden in
Eden; for ages they have enjoyed the light and heat and
air of heaven; fol generations they have wondered at the
disturbed strata of the earth's surface and at the scattered
remains of past revolutions that are so often found; and
the ceaseless swellings of human ambition and covetousness
have placed before thenm the lessons of history and political
economy; and yet, with all this, how few among men have
been intelligent in these things!-how few have been botanists, geologists, political economists, philosophers or listo



Id1 AIIN'TR1ODUCTION.
rians!.ien often wonder why so many different teachings
are drawn froim the Bible, and they even use the cavil as
an argument against its civine authority.  But, lunless we
fall into blank atheisn, we should as well wonder that God
teaches men every other thing so obscurely that the humnan
learners of this Divine Teacher have opinions as widely diversified upon every other subject.  God teaches men law,
nmedicine, philosophy, history, geology, astronomy; i. e.,
every true student notices, classifies and endeavours to eoinprehend the facts as they appear, draws just principles
from  them, and thus the sciences are elaborated.  God
made the heavens and orders thenm; man studies God's
work, and just so faIr as he comprehends it he is an astronomer.  God places before us in this fallen world certain
phenomena of disease; just so far as man understands
these: in their causes, symptoms and cures, he is a physician.  So he who observes and classifies wisely the proper
facts and principles for human government is a jurist; he
that properly understands the laws of nature is a philosopher; he that knows what are the earth's strata, and can
justly explain the occurring phenomena, is a geologist.
INow look at the crude and clashing opinions upon all these
nmlatters in all the earth.  The lessons have been the same
substantially in all ages and climes, except as some ages
and nations have wrought out for themselves better advantages of studying them.  But are men agreed?  HI-ave they
always been agreed to understand alike the lessons they
tauglht?  Are even the most intelligent and scientific jurists, physieians, geologists agreed upon more than elementary principles in the matters they study most?  Now,




INTRODUCTION.'                    15
in this state of things whom are we to blame? Is the fiult
in the Great Teachller of all knowledge or in the vast variety of foolish scholars?  Men everywhere mistake God's
true teachings, and he wisely denmands that only the humble and diligent shall become truly wise. If we inquire
into this matter candidly, we will find that in the Bible we
have God's very plainest teachings to the sons of men.
Here men imay most easily learn what he designs to teach;
here the earnest and sincere learners are less liable to nistake than anywhere else in God's teachings.  The instructions of this holy volume have their analogies to God's
teachings elsewhere.  He designs to educate the souls of
men. Hle wishes to make men think.   A Bible so plain
that we need not even study it would be a calaamity, if, indeed it is possible for man to learn any truth without exercising his faculties.  But the cause of different and jarring
opinions upon matters here taught with sufficient plainness
is rather to be sought in the aversion, carelessness and prejudices of man as a student of the Bible. It requires but
little observation to prove that the diversities among men
around us spring more from the neglect of the Bible than
from the study of it; and many a mnan has settled religious
opinions, and is strenuous to;maintai-n them, when he knows
little or nothing of the book which God has given. Possibly the time is far distant when thoughtful imen will learn
to take the same views upon any subject, but certainly religious people will think more alike when they less intermingle human devices with divine teachings; as we may
easily discern now that the careful, humnble, devotional
students of what GCod teaches here, though circumllstances




1         6         NITRODUCTION'8
may have thrown them into different worshipping societies,
are yet generally very close together, both in their faith and
love toward God their common Father and in their zealous
efforts to live a godly life among their fellow-men.  Nor are
men ever afraid to trust the integrity of any one when. they
judge that he honestly believes and truly loves the Bible.
The sacred biography that we now take up is that of one
of the remarkable men of the Bible.  The patience and
forbearance of the reader may sometimes be taxed, as
scenes of minor interest occur in every' man's life; but
these, though they may occupy less attention and space,
cannot be omitted, for the sake of the connection.  But the
general train of such a life should give us much interesting
instruction; and we look the more for this, because his!ife
and history take up more of the inspired pages than any
other, excepting Moses and the incomparable history-that
of our L-Jord Jesus Christ himself[




LIFE OF DAV'ID
CHAPTER  I.
DA  ID) CILOSN  FOR TILE T[ 7Ol.
AS we are first introduced to David, the son of
Jesse, he is a shepherd lad upon the plains of
Bethlehem; he passes thenee to become a leader of
no small renown in the armies of Israel; and then,
after a fiery ordeal through the king's envy and
jealousy, he passes on, having achieved a moral
triumph more honourable than any he ever won by
his sword, to take his firm seat -upon the throne in
the most flourishing days of the Jewish nmonarchy.
A poet is here-the sweet singer of Israel-inl
ferior to none that have ever held the lyre in the
celebrity of his poetry, in the influence that his
sacred songs have exerted, or in the immense multitudes that have adopted them as eminently fitted
for the expression of their religious emotions.  It
is no exaggeration to say that the Psalnms of David
have been sung by more voices, have excited more
feeling, and have been more truly loved and admired, than any other poetns ever w ritten. This
~ery hour they form  the basis of divine praise in.
2                                    17




18              LIIFE OF D;AID.
thousands of Christian assemblies all around the
earth; and the growth of numbers in the Church
of Christ is blt the increase of those that sing the
praises of God in the words of David.  A wtrrior
also is lere, whose first conflict was Israel's signal
deliverance; and who never actrually lost a battle
fiom that day forward, but was unifornily successful, save when once a guilty father abandoned for
a season his palace and his capital to a rebellious
son-a warrior: who firmly established his kingdom,
gave it rest fiom its enemies on every side,z and fill
of wealth and peace, and honotur and prosperityr,
handed it quietly down to his wise successor.  A.
kingm, moreover, is here, of renown in his own day,
the founder of a long line to rule over the eovenant people, whose  kingdomn is the scriptural
exemplar of Christ's everlasting kingdom,and frtoml
whom espzecially the Miessiah was to (leseend.  The
name, of David is one fianous in the annals of the
kin gdom of Christ: snuch expressions in the Scriptures as the throne of David, and the house of
3David, and the sure mercies of David should make
every believer desirous of an acquaintance with the
life and character and times of tlhis shl-epherd-poet
-this warrior-king.
Tekel, the significant expression of a later prophet_, was already written against the namne of Saul
-" Thon art weighled in the balance and art found
wanting,9"  The aged Samuel yet mourned for his
perverseness while he stood aloof in obedience to




C.i-osEiN FOR.p THE T.rI-ONE. o      J9
the divine directions, -But now he was tlold to take
his horn of oil and go and anoint one of the sons
of Jesse at Bethlehem. The jealousy of Saul, however, was now so aroused that such a service publicly perfornmed would have provoked the death
of Samuel and of any man whom lhe would venture
to anoint;,   Ve cannot think that Sanmuel would
use untruthful means to conceal the object of his
visit to Bethlehem —much less that hte would be
divinely directed so to do. But if it is manifestly
proper to do things which vwe do not wish were
lknown publicly, so it is right to ward off the suspicion of our chief designs by allowing minor matters to become public. Samuel did attend a sacrifice in Bethlehem: this was well known.  Whatever else le did there, he designed to do more
privately. The elders of the city treimbled at his
coming.   As the prophet was now old, and had
been relieved of his cares as a civil ruler, perhaps
he seldom went abroad except to correct some existing abuse. But lie came now to sacrifice; and all
he himself knows as yet of the person that most is
concerned in his visit is, that the family of Jesse
must be summoned. There were eight sons and
two daughters, though perhaps one of the sons
died not long after this, since the names of but
seven are recorded in 1 Clron. ii. 13.  Of these,
David was the youngest, and was held in so little
estimation-doubtless on the mere account of his
youth-that his father did not even call him to the




20             IUFE OF DATTVID.
sacrifice. The ideas of Samuel were as they were
when Saul was chosen, and he looked foir one of
fine personal appearance; and perhaps, supposing
that the reign of Saul would come to an end
sooner, he had no thought that the choice of the
Lord would fall upon one so young.  IHe Was
ready to pour the oil of consecration upon the
stately form  of Eliab.   But the Lord had ntot
chosen.him.
It, is difficult to understand, in this entire transaction, how publicly the actual anointing was performed, and how much of its purport was understood at the time.  We think clearly that the prophet's thought, " Surely, the Lord's anointed is before me;" and the several answers, " The Lord
hath not chosen this,"  were not words spoken
aloud, but the Lord's communing with the mind
of Samuel. As it was needful to send off for David,
the day passed well on before they sat down to eat,
and the company may have dispersed befbre he
was anointed; or as Samuel  had sent the servant
away, and anointed Saul when no witnesses were
by, so now may it have been in the case of David.
If this was so, we may read verse 13 differently.
Hle anointed David froam the midst of his brethren;
or, if this anointing was public, perhaps it was not
understood by any one there. It was cunstomary
to anoint prophets and priests as well as kings;
and it may have been thought, and in part it; was
really so, that the shepherd-poet of Jesse's family




CHOSEN FOR THE THRIONE.              21
was now anointed a prophet by the aged man so
soon to need a successor.  The facts  which occur
afterward; the little esteem  in waich David e.ontinued to be held; the reproof which his elder brother gave him in the camp of' Israel; the remarkable fiacts that no one ever accused David before
Saul, and that Saul betrayed no jealousy for this
anoin-ting as treason against his throne; and finally
the fact that David was again anointed befo:re he
ascended the throne, -all these things seem to inply either that this anointing was not understood,
or that it was a pr)ivate matter between David and
the prophet, as before between Samuel and Saul.
Although in this transaction the personal appearanee of David is spoken of rather slightinglyr yet
it is said lie twas of a beautiful countenance ancd
goodly; and we believe, as he was then but a growing lad, that in the course of a few years he did
not lack the accomplishments of a kingly presence.
Yet we lay the less stress upon what we may- judge
of these things because of the express testimony
colncerning him, in words which may properly be
-weighed in. every age: "  Ian looketh on the out.ward appearance, but. the Lord looketh upon the
heart'"
A captions infidelity, whNich delights to find. occasion to revile the sacred volume, even upon the
most fiivolous pretexts, has selected as a mark for
its poisoned arrows the expression of Samuel upon
Saul's rejection, "'The Lord bath soughilt a man




22               LIFE OF DA.VID~
after his own heart."  An outcry is therefore made,
not against the general character of David, but
against that dark and shameful sin which disfigures
a later period of his history.  It may not be imnproper for us, then, to tarry a little upon this expression of' the Lord's regard fior this newly-chosen
king of Israel.  Wve need not, indeed, understand,
when IDavid is called a nman after God's heart, that
anvy ref-rence is had to his individual character.
It. may place his choice as king in contrast with
that of Saul.  Saul was madle king at the urgent
solicitation of the people, but God chose David of
his own mind, without any wish expressed on the
part of the people, and against the thoughts both
of Jesse and Samuel.  Or it ma-y refer to God's
approval of David's efficient character, in. contrast
with the vain, fickle and unfaithfutl  aul.  Saul
was rejected for not carrying out the divine will,
while David steatdfastly adhiered  to the discharge
of his official duties in the control of the khingdom:.
But without excluding these thoughts, we judge
that the expression refers to the personal character
of David.  IH-e was not a perfect servant to God.
God has no such servants upon earth.  But he was
a man of real piety.  Taking the character of this
nman as a whole, there have been few such upon
earth-of early piety, of amiable disposition, of
lofty cenius, of refined poetic taste.  We may look
at his courage as a soldier, his kindness as a man,
his constancy as a friield, his justice as a ruler, his




CHOSEN FOR TlE THROiNE               23
magnificence as a king, his faith as a believer or his
fervour as a worshipper; and we may justly decide
that here is a man of exalted  excellence.  Even
from  his  lamentabile  fall we  may  derive just
thoughts to elevate his general character, and to
vindicate the Lord's condescending  love towatrd
such a servant.  If any man can so impose upon
his own im-ind and conscience as to believe that the
mention of this sin implies the approval of it, in
any degree or shape, by the writers of the Scriptures or by the believers in the Bible, or on the part
of David himself, much less on the part of God,
such a conclusion is reached not only against the
nature of religion,  but in defiance of the  acts as
mentioned  and of the explicit expressions of the
sacred writings.  "l The th1ing which David Mhad
done displeased the Lord," is the express record in
thie case:  this is followed by many similar expressions of the divine displeasure, and by repeated jutlgments upon the household of' the sitmncr, and by penitent acknowledgments and long
and deep mourning on the part of David hIimself.
The sin of David is aggravated by the high position lhe had previously occupied as the firiend of
Go1d; but surely it magnifies our ideas of God's
condescending  mrrercy that he forgave  such an
offender.  And if David is no example for our
imitation as he thus departs fro'm  the usual rectitude of his character, even here is he not without
his redeeming trait. Not many who sin as David




24              LIFE OF )DA-VID.
did, repent as he did. We may look upon  David
as a penitent sinner after his lamentable fall; and
while we admire God's pardoning mlercy to the
chief of sinners, let us take courage to return from
our far wanderings to Him who is ready to forgive.
It was by the Lord, who looketh upon the hea rt,
that David was now chosen. This does not indeed
exclude the idea of the divine sovereignty.  It
does not exclude the call of David to piety through
God's sovereign mercy; nor does it forbid the suip
position that God's omniscience mnay have discerned,
or God's grace have raised up in Israel, other instruments as fit as he to fulfil the divine will,  But
primarily the expression teaches us that David was
prepared by eminence in piety for eminent service
in the Church of God.  And as we think it just
and proper through all the life of David to learn
the state of his mind, in his various emergencies,
from the expression of his th.oughts in his Psalms,
so far as we can ascertain the occasions on which
they were composed, so mayv we learn his early
character fromt the Psalins which we jundge were
earliest written,  Soime of those Psalmstlse g., the
eighth-seenm to have been composed as he watched
his flocks by night, and while no mention is nmade
of the sun or the green fields around him, the mind
of the thoughtfil lad is deeply impressed with the
cont.rast betw-ween the magnificence of the starry
hosts above and the insignificance of man, for
whorm yet God cares:  "When I consider the h.eant




CHOSEN  F'OR TH-E T1HOI.TNE           25
ens, the work of thLy fingers, the moon and sta'rs
whichi thou hai t ordainec, what is man?"  On the
other lhanI ld te nineteenth PIsalm seems to have been.
conmposed as the lonog watch is closilng  as the slhadows of night are fleeing and as dayt is beginning to
dawn upon tihe earth.  ITt begons with -wondering
at the glory of God in tile starry heavens; it proceeds with aidmirilnog the glory of God in the rising
sun, coming fortl fromn the chambers of the east;
but as the light spreads around, and he is able to
read the parchment roll of God's covenanted mercy,
the devotional shepherd turns fronm God's works to
God's wordt and finds greater evidences of God's
glory in the perfect law that converts the soul.
Doubtless the engagements of a shephercd  were
in many respects favourable for the fbrmation of a
pious chracter and for the culltivation of religious
feelin gs~  Piety has indeed flourished, and m1ay
agoain flourish, Under many disadvantages, and an
earnest and resolute mind may refuse to bend to
-the most untoward circumstances.  Yet is it proper
and wise for every iman to secure the best advaini
talges he maiy. The earlier periods of life are always
more favourable than the later for the instruction
of the nmind in religious truths and for the formation of pious habits.  This indeed depends upon
the very constitution of the huiman mind; and it
is as true in other matters as it is in religion.
When any wise teacher can select his own pupils,
he wvishes the young and the unpr(judiced.B A phy



26                LIFE OF' DAV'IDo
sician desires his student not only to be younrg in
years, but untranmmzelled also by the vicious teachings of an erroneous school.  A pupil of' bad ha-cbits
and erroneous teaci.inogs is tGr harder to instruct
than one who is ready to learn and has nothinlg to
unlearn.  As nman grows  up, he must have moral
habits and religious views of some kind; and the
youngenr   le is the better wlhen he learns the salutary lessons and feels tlhe wholesome emotions of
true piety.  Ile keeps thus fri'o1om  mutch evil, and
learns (and loves good lmore easily andt thoroughly.
True piety implies self-cominiuniono   In atll ag es
it is can affa ir o t P e heart.  The basis of religion
is thoug:Ltfulness   " I thiouglt on mly ways and
turaetd mly  frket unto thy testimloniues/~  lien are
seldonm irreligioius t.hrough deliberate tlioutlhtfuitelss, ai perhaps never   are aien systemiatically
impious in erroneous views  until teic piachtical impiecty of lii: has prepared them for the acceptance
of impious doctrines.  The general truth, undoubtedly, is, men are irreligious  througll   carelessness.
A  spiri t of serious thourght in any man usually
precedes his decided  piety ftbr piety  will  bear
tiloughyt, and tihe more   e thilk aboiut it the more
reasoLiable it is.  Th1e busyi  bustlino- ace in- w-hich
vwe live is one dangerous to thue souls of nmle,l because Awe are too prone to let other things cro-twd
religion from our thoughts.  In spite of all earthly
en(gargeaienits mai n must thilnk about  salvation or
lie must be lost.  Youth  is  ta f vourcable time for




CHIOSEN FOn TH-E TtIRONE.             27
thlought because the mind is then less occupied
than it ever a ain will be.  And there are occupations which give greater leisure tkhan others. Every
man has his sabbaths3 or wrongs  his own soul if' he
gives them  up.  But imany have more tlhan this.
As a shephelrdt  David lhad time for meditation, and
we cannot question t, hat his thouglhts ran  mnuch.ipon the law of the Lord.   Not once alone, beut
manty   a timh, we may )elieve,  he passed a sleepless
night, and thoughts of what God  lad done for
m'an filled his soulo, LNot one but m1any a bright
day, passed he in readming  thne volume of divine
truth and in treasuring  up its lessons of wisdom.
Little drealned he then tihat he treasured up these
thoullhts to order thle lit-f of Israel's greatest king.
Little thought lie then that his influence would
pass dowt in t-he Church. for so much good through
so ma.ny ogenerations.   N-o man can tell what coming ages wxill eat the sweet or the bitter fruit of the
good or evil tree which his hand has planted, ilor
how many trees may be multiplied, nor how much
fruit may be increased, from the seeds his planting
mayr scatter.  It was not in vain for the good of his
own heart, not in vain for the great blessing of his
people, that David made the plains of' Bethlehem
resound with the sweet notes of his harp, and sang
his midgllht sonmg to those echoes -whilch awaked, a
thousand vears later, at the birth of David's greater
Son, to hear the chant of angelic voices, " Peace on
eartht; good-wvill to;wardTl men."




28                LIFE OF DAVID,
But let uts not make thle mistake of' supposing
thlat the life of a shepherd was efillminate or indolent; or the grosser error of supposing   that a
life of idleness is favourable to the formation of a
religious character.  As true piety is to be exercised amlonlg  the usefil duties of lift  so it is best
formed among life's useful duties; and hlie is a wise
man who strikes the proper balance between the
attention he should give to the thlings of time and
the tingrs  of eternity.   T either should  be neglected; it is easy to judge what is of superior
importance,   and a just regard to either will help
rather than hiinder a just regard for the othler.  Religion  is not passing out of the world, nor away
from  the world's atflrirs; it fits us for the world,
and its most important influences may  be secured
while we are not slothful in. our worldly concerns.
The life of a shepherd had its hours of leisure, but
it had its seasons of laborious toil; few Eastern
occupations exc(eeded it in its exposures to the seasons, and none but that of a warrior had  more
dangerous encounters to expect.  So Jacob describes
the life ie led in Laban's service in terms like
these: " In the day the drought consumed me, and
thle frost by nigllt, and  my sleep  departed fiom
mine eves." Geno xxxi. 40.  The rangle of their
flocks was large; they must often be led to other
and distant pasturage; they:must pass sometimes
through  dangerous defiles and the rough  rocks
wounded the flock, or the fierce wild beast lay in




CHOSEN FOR T-HE THRtONE.             29
wait for them.  The good shepherd would  not
stand back from the peril that, threatened the flock
and we are informed that David  had ha   his fierce
but successful encounters with the strongest beasts
of the forest,. His was a character formed by wise
contemplation, butf settled also by the toil he endured, and rendered firm  by the energy of' the
efforts he must needs put forth.l




CHAPTER  1.
TIE EICTOB 0   7 6OIAaPo
r-"HE  condition of the unhappy king of Israel
grew mlore and more wretched and miserable
as lie brooded over the judgments which God had
denounced against his sins.  How  frequently are
we tauight in tihe hiiistory of the world that no sinner is the master of his own happiness!  God has
written it almost as plainly upon the pages of providence as upon the pages of revelation.  There
is no peace to the wieked.  Men are often, indeed,
careless in their sins; they often find pleasure in
the indullgenme of them.   But tlis is in God's ifrbearance    Whe:n God lets loose upon any man the
terrors of Lhis own awa  kened conscience% then flee
away fr'om him all carelessness     and all peace.  No
sinner needs more to iatke  him   wretched bevond)
all eartlily relief thian the awakenino  of his own
conscience at the bidddinlg of God-: all the past memoroies of life may thriong unexpectedly upon himl
aucld fill hinm wvith angmish and  lorror'; and in his
happiest hours lie is liable to an inw-ard awakenincg which wouldi mnake him forget every surrounding joy, and ovelrwhelm him with unspeakable ter80




THIE VICTORY OVER CGOLIATH.            31.
roi. The nind of Saul iwas filled with indefinable
fears. He knew that God had rejected  him; he
knew that a successor was designed for the throne;
but he knew not wbhon the Lord had chosen, nor
when the revolution should begin that would ecast
him down; nor by what bloody trlagedy, ending in
his own sudden and violent death and t;he extermination of his fimily, it micght be consumnmated.
Judging, perhaps, by the usual changes in the
governmen ts of other nations; filled with the various and  perplexing  agitations which  excite a
man's worst fears as he looks forward to the un1known future; fearinrg to trust the men of his OWn1
household lest the elements to overthrow his family,,
might, be gathering at tbhe very ftoot of the throne
itself; not knowing friend fioom foe, nor which way
to turn; forsaklen of God and theref-:re distrustful of
mann,-can we well inmagine a nmore distressing~ colndition than that of Saul? and can wire wonder that
he becanme jealonus, gloonmy desponde nt, or that per-t
haps reason staglered ulpon her seat amnd the king
of Israsel was a derangced man?
Yet Saul had aro'und  hin  f~aithfuln and sympathizinlp aand attached ~riendso  The loyaltty of 1is
people, even tke lovalt of tie anoited Davx xid was
tirmlny exhibited lonIe after this.  Even the divine
displeasure against him  (lid not deprive him  of
everyx support;  and tnhongh we hlardly tfhi'nk it w'as
so, yet it may even have been that he was'fosaken
of God simply in his official charadter, and thus,




32'IFE OF D)AVDig
after Ihis irrevoen:b!e rejection fromn the throne, there
muay have been opportunityr yet given in the divine
mercy for Sati's personal humiliation and repentanice and return to God.
In the despondency of the king means were used
to relieve his malatdy~ We will not dwell upon
tis part of the history. In all a ges the pow er of
mulsic to relieve mental distresses has beent fecote -
nized, a.d many  instances of it are recorded iln
history,  Amnon  the mnost remarkable is the relief
given to Philip V. of Spain by' a muisician na.med
[Farinell, about a hundred years ago.  By this
time, David the son of Jesse had acquired considerable repu-tation, in his o-wn neighbourhood, at least,
as a young mlan of coturale and of remarkable nusical talents. Though he is called a  iZ man of war,"
we can hardly suppose that li he had been in any
battle with the enemies of his countrary.  The attacks made upon his focks by wild beasts, or perhaps by predatory incursions fiomn the neiglibouring
tribes, mnay have been mlet by him with a promiptitude and courage which gave him reputation among
those that knew  him.  As Gibeah, where Saul
dwelt, was not over tein or twelve miles fromn the
abode of Jesse, it is not surprising that, the young
man was known to some around the king.  I-e
was therefore sent for.  His playing hlad the desired effect upon Saul's mind, and though hie had
returns of his morbid melancholy at timfes, yet it
nmay be said that, as far as the nature of the




THE VICTORY OVER GOLIATLI-.            33
case admitted, a cure was effected througlh this
ImeCanlS.'We may notice here, in passing, one of the
providential prleparations which fit David for the
throne.  The young shepherd lad is introduced
into the king's house, sees what is the state of a
ling, and has the opportunity of learning how business is there transacted.  But the chief matter needinog our attentionl in these incidents is the stranie:qet tha t Saul now loved IDavid and made himl his
atrmour-bearer, and yet afterward did not seem  to
know him at all when he appeared in the camp and
volunteered to fight the giant of Gath.  The first
remark we may make upon tis apparent inconsistenev is this, that the -writer of the sacred pages does
not attempt to explain it at all!  This seems to
imply that the reconciliation is easy.  When an
intelligent and truthful writer makes a plain statement upon one page and upon the next page a
statement, equally plain, and these two do not seem
to'tgree together, yet without manifest contradiction, we may easily judge that they would'-agree if'we had his explanation, and. that he sees no need
of reconciling the two, for certainly he would not
allow a plain inconsisteny to go without remarkS.
Some have supposed that in the interval David
had grown to more mature manhood, at which time
a great change often takes place in the personal
appearance. Perhaps that when he came the first
time to Saul he was beardless; and certainly a full




34              LIFE OF' DAVID,
beard makes a wonderful change from  a smooth
fce, Others suppose that thle king, having lmany
persons around him, could easily forget a youth
who had h.eld but the nomninal office of armourbearer in a time of peaee, or at least awhen Saul wtas
not personally engaged in war.  But wlhy mav not
the whole matter be solved by rememnbering the
nature of Saul's disease? David perhaps remlained
at court no longer thanl the kiing's recovery, and it
is certainly no uncommon thing for deranged persons, when their mLalady takes a despondent turn,
to forget, upon their recovery, the persons they
have seen and the events that have occurred during the time of their despondency..The next scene in the life of David is the one
where hie slew Goliath of the Philistines.  A new
war had  sprung up, and the opposing armies,
stationed upon  opposite hills, were watching each
other.  While  neither army seemed  willing to
leave its strong  position to advance to a disadvanta-gleous attack and both were kept thus in suspense
for some time, a single chlamlpion of the Philistines
came forth between thle two hosts and challenged
any man in all the army of Israel to meet in single
combat.  It was no'uncommon. thinog in ancient
warfhre for champions to be selected to fight,~ either
to decide the issue of the entire conflict in their
Iersons, or as preliminary to the general battle
and as exerting a great influence upon it.  The
reader of Roman history will readily recall the




THE VICTORY OVER GOLIATILh            35
famous triple combat, when the superiority of t'he
PRomnans over the Albans was decided by three
brothers on each side —tle Horatii andI the Curatiifive of whom ln ll in the battle, and the sixth was
but, spared frorn the hand of justice fir an aet of
flagrant wickedness done in the flush of his victory,
Even as late as the battle of Bannockburn,  Robert
Bruce himself put his life and. his throne in peril
by venturi ng upon a single combat between the two
armies with Sir i-enry de Bohun.  Such combats
belong to the ancient style of wrarfare; then personal strength  often  gave sueeccess, now  secured
rather by superior arms or superior skill.  The
champion of the Philistines upon this occasion was
Goliath of G-ath, distinguished for his extraordinarly
bheight. This was six cubits and a span.  We do
not definitely know the length of the scriptural
cubit.  It was, perhaps, fronm eighteenl to twentyone inches of our rmeasurement, and thus the height
of Goliath was fron nine to eleven feet. We hIave
no good reason. to believe that for ages back, if
ever, the average height of the human race has decreased.  There is a disposition among men to
slight the present age in comparison with the past,
and this in respect of physical strength and firm
health, as well as in other matters.  Yet the tables
of mortality denote rather a lengthening of human
life, and men grow about as tall as they ever did,
Yet we have manny accounts in. history of the existence of very large men-some of them altogether




36              LIFE OF DAVID.
fabulous, some exaggerated and others authentic.
There seems to have been a IaLmily of gi(gantic race
in Canaan, of whom mention is frequently made in
the sacred narratives. The spies sent up by Israel
from the wilderness brought back the report friom
the promised land that there were giants there; and
long after this time even we find David and his
heroes fighting against the kindred of Goliath.
The armour of this gigantic e. hampion is particularly described, and thus is the more remarkable because it is the first description of arniour
that we find in the Scriptures.  Perhaps defensive armour was  now  gradually coning  into
use among these tribes.  Saul also, we learn, had
armour; but it is likely that the coat of mail of
Goliath was very superior for the age, and thus he
had more than the mere advantage of superior
personal strength.  It is interesting to know that
among the ruins of ancient Assyria, Mr. Layard
has disinterred not only the figures of warriors in
armour made of scales, but has actually found some
of the scales that composed this armoulr  They are
generally of iron, but some are inlaid  rith copper,
and seem to have been fastened upon a kind of
coarse shirt, so that the person wotuld be completely
covered, while yet the motion would be comparatively easy. It was between the scales or joinings
of armour like this that the arrow entered that
slew Abab. The other parts of the armour are
also described, but we will not delay upon the de



THE VICTORY OVER GOLIATH.            37
scription.'We may only say that similar pieces of
armour are found portrayed in the remains of Egypt
and Assyria.
The appearance of this champion on the field between the two armies struck dismay into the hosts
of I'srael. HIis itnense height and his complete
equipment prevented any man from daring to meet
him.  Even the brave and pious Jonathan, who
hlad  shown  his courage  and  capa.city upon  a
former occasion, at Michmash, shrunk back fron
the opportunity now afforded. We are told that
for forty days the challenge was repeated and was
not accepted, but that no conflict took place between
thle ar:mies: that the exulting Philistines, with the
giant at their head, made no advance to scatter the
disheartened hosts of' Israel was doubtless owing to
thle fact that the latter occupied too strong a position
to be easily forced.
The long delay rendered it needful that the
people of Israel should send supplies of food to
the camp of Saul. Accordingly, Jesse, who had
tlhree sons there, sent David with provisions for
them and a present for their captain; yet, doubt=
less, with no other thought than that he should
perform  his errand and return peacefuilly to his
homrne. He found the camp in great agitation and
the challenge of Goliath in every mouth.  The
indignation of thle young man was roused that any
enemy of Israel should be allowed to defy the
armies of God's people; and, doubtless in a good




38               LIFE OF DAVID.
deal of excitement, he talked freely about the matter t:o every man he met,  His eldest brother,
Eliab, who hlad perhaps never learnled to regard
himn as alvthing  more than a child, and  who
thoughtl  his stout words mere youthful vauntings
or perhlaps a reflection  upon his own courage,
roughly rebuked him; and yet implies that lhe
knew well his daring and bold charaeter, that he
desired to be present when the battle catme on.
David firmly contends that he had come there in
obedience to his father's orders, and that, certainly
there was good cause for his present zeal, in the
fact that not only Israel, but the God of Israel, had
been insulted by this bold challenger.  The whole
affair created so mu1ch stir anmong the Israelites that
Saul heard of David's words and sent for him.
Byv this time David is ready to offer himself as the
champion of Israel.  It is not an easy thing for ius
to decide in advance concerning the rashness or the
faith of an offer like this.  In this case t he result
proves that David was right; abut it seemed to or=
diuary eyes a rash undertaking indeed, and we are
rather surprised  that; Saul should consent to allow
hirm to go forth as Israel's representative aguainst
such an one as Goliath.  Yet it seems often true
that the ventures of faith are assisted, emven wIhen
not pronmpted, by desperate circumstances and the
reflection that this is all that can be done.  Yet
this is not thve feeling of David.  No one would
hlave thought him  lacking in courage or faith had




THE VICTORY OVER GOLIATHI             39
he now stood aloof from the contest.  Nro man in
the canmp could do it more honourably than l he;
perhaps no one was as little thought of to do this
thing  as he.  A youthful shepherd sent merely to
carry bread to his brethren, armed only with 1is
staff and a sling, and not even attached to the
army, he niiglht come alnd go without remark.
God often employs a feeble instlruimentality to
carry out great purposes. Jro member of a congregation is so insignificant that his or her faith
mnay not prove a blessing to the entire Church of
God.  Faith in God can do wonders.  It is David's striking characteristic that, he gives the honour
to God of all that he is able to secure.  It is nlot
thlrough vain-glory that lie relates to Saul the deeds
he was able to accomplish in his shepherd life. He
tells his victories over the lion and the bear only
to give proof that he is not wholly unacquainted
with danger; alnd he is careful to say that he then
experienced a divine deliverance.  But this is a
case where he may more reasonably expect the
divine aid, for this champion had defied God's
people, and the hlionour of Jehovah hinmself seemed
involved.  In no case can we more confidently expect God's blessing than when we most directly
aim at his glory.
Saul accepted David as the champion of Israel,
Ve can hlardly think that the armour with which
lie thought to clothe him was Saul's personal arrecur: this would hardly fit the youth. But it was




40              LIFE OF DAVID,
armour from  Saul's armory.'Yet, as David had
never been accustomed to wear anything  of the
kindl he declined to go in it and would venture
forth in his usual dress. This circumstance gives
natural rise to the reflection that men ever think
and act effectively only when they act naturally.
Had David gone out in Saul's arnour, he could
not have used the sling at all —certainly not xwith
the usual freedonm; and he could have contended
safely with the giant with no different weapon. Let
every man fobllow out his own character, and let
every effort at self-improvement and every aim to
do good be without the servile imitation of any
other.  Our principles may be exactl.y like those
of other good men, yet every man has his own natural peculiarities, which may be wisely preserved
Thile carrying out correct principles.
We may imaginae the breathless interest with
which the hosts of Israel saw the young David
step forth from  their ranks and go toward the
camp of the Philistines,  There were doubtless
conflicting opinions upon the matter-some judging it the extreme of rashness to send out such an
one; others blaming themselves, as veterans in
warfare, that, since the issue must be tried, they
had not been bold enough, and are now put to
shame by the courage of a stripling;  and a few
perhaps, hoping in the blessing of Israel's God.
Yet we can easily judge that all the confidence in
the issue lay in the Philistines and David was the




TH:E VICTORiY OVER GOLIATH.           41
fbrlorn hope of Israel.  But he himself went forth
cheerfully and full of courage.  As he passed the
brook in the vallev, the dividing line between the
two armies, he selected five smooth stones and put
them in a coarse bag in his hand. The use of the
sling has been comn on in many lands and ages.
Every one is perhaps sufficiently acquainted with
it to judge of the great force with which a stone
may be sent firom  such an instrumnent; and the
precision which practice gives is astonishing.  We
are told in one place of a regiment of Benjamites
who could sling a stone and scarce swerve the
breadth of a hair in their aim, and this too with
the left hand.  tRather, perhaps, they were amibi
dexters, and could throw equally well with either
hand.*'jhe Egyptians,  Assyrians and  Persians
all used the sling, and the ball was sometimes lead
rather than a stone.
Yet, as this weapon was despised by the heavy
armed troops, Goliath was galled by the double
insult-that a boy should be sent against him, and
that he should be armed with a staff and a sling.
As they drew near each other, he began to curse
David and to threaten him.  Wihat we would
regard  as the nmost arrant bracggadocia was the
very common language of ancient heroes.  The
speeches which HIomer puts into the mouth of his
heroes can hardly be read without a smile at the
abuse they heap upon each other before they begin
- 1 Chron. xii. 2.




42               LIFE OF DAVTID
the battle. Thle modern Chinese, with other features
of antiquity  ret:ain this ancient n.ode of warfhre,
Tro see two Chiniese wra.ngling upon the street we
would hardly thinik they could separate without
bloodshed(, and yet they rarely come to blows.
The recent wars of the people with- civilized nations show also the same temper in their gravest
public documents. The speech of Goliath is nothing more than would be uttered by any of these
heroes,  especially one   11ho  felt insulted by the
meanness of his antagonist.
On the other Iand  the speech of David is characterized by humility and piety,  It does not lack
in boldness; there is not a sign of an intimidated
spirit. But his dependence upon. the God of Israei is clearly avowed, and proclamation clearly
made that his appeal is to the divine Arm.
It seems likely that as Goliath came on he left
open. the vizor of his helnmet-doubtless through
contempt of his feeble foe.  It is the folly of maany
imen to despise their enemies-to think too lightly
of the trials they are to meet. Vain confidence has
been the temrporatl and eternal ruin of multitudes
of souls.  True courage is never fbolhardy.  Lord
WTellington is said to have made this remark upon
an officer whomn he saw turn pale as he marched
against a battery  " That is a brave miani; he understands the danger, but he does not flinch from
it."9  True courage makes  no needless ventures.'We can secure every valuable end, and yet never




TIlE VICTORY OVER GOLIATHi              43
allow  ourselves to be boastful or presumptuous.
Even a sling might have had no effect had the
stone struck the strongl helmet of the giant.  As
he camne on, David hasted anil ran to meet him,
i-e took a well-chosen stone friom  his shepherd's
bag, and delivered it from his sling with such precision and force that the single stroke sufficed for
his victory.  The haughty chlampion of the Philh
istines sank lifeless to -the earth,  Then, amidst
the shontings of Israel and the dismay of' the enerliy, he ran forward, drew  forth the great sword
of the giant and smote off his head as the trophy
of -the great occasion.  I]n the mean time, the hosts
of Israel ran forward to the battle, and the Philistines fled and were pursued to the very gates of
their own cities,  The victory was decided and important in its influence; and fromn this time forward
David was one of the chief terrors of the Plhilistine
armies.
In the Septuagint version of the Book of Psalms,
and in the Syriac, Ethiopic and Arabic versions,
there is an additional Psalmn to the nutmber of the
Psalms in the -Hebrew, and the subnject of this one
hundred  and  fifty-first Psalm  is David's victory
over Goliath, It is a very ancient production,'but
lacks internal and external evidences of its genuineness,  It has never been received as authentic, is
lot found in the HIebrew, and possesses nothing of
the excellences of David's writings.  It may be
mentioned, as a mere matter of curiosity, that such




4~4               LIFE OF DAVID.
a psalnm  exists, but neither the style nor the contents of it are worthy of the trouble of quoting
entire.  But while we give no credit to this as a
psalm of David upon that memorrable day, iwe are
quite unwilling to think  that David gained  thliat
great victory- without returning his grateful thanks
to that God who had given him poweri over his fbe.
lIe ventured  to fighllt with Goliath  because  t.le
cause was the cause of the  Lord of hosts, and
the thanksgiving   after the victory was too conso*
nant with the tone of David's piety to be omitted.
MWe do not know  that the  youthtiffl  chalmpion
pressed on in the pursuit; let us rather adopt the
idea of a modern poet:
" The carniage moved on, and alone in the vale
The shepherd knelt down by the dead in his mail;
Antc there, with his arm on that still reeking sword,
Poured forth his thanksgiving in prayer to the Lord.
" CAPtRICES,"
It would be an easy thing  for us to a7legoori:ze the chief scene we have  regarded, and  to
take the champion of Gath  as an  exemplar of
many a girgantic  evii with wllich we are called
to  contend  in  the world.  The points of analogy are neither few nor triflingc.  For it seems
that evil all around us, more easily  than good,
attains to  a giant's strength  and  stature; that
good men stand back too often appalled at its great
strength and its weapons of defensive armour; and
that there are not wanting Eliabs in the camp of




TIE VICTORY OVER GOLIA TIi.             45
Israel to rebuke the forwardness of the humble
piety that is jealous for the Ionotur of God.  B.tA
there is one lesson of more importance than any
other which we may- draw from  that eventful coinflict.  The lesson is thlis, that the bold virttues of an
hnumble, earnest faith in God are nowhere uponl
these sacred pages discouraged or put to shamte.
The triumphs of faith are here recorded, and the
defects of unbelief are here rebukled.  But amnidst
all the bold efforts which men have made to serve
God; with all their wonderful reliance upon his
promises in the most discouraging cases; with all
their hopes directed toward  him  in their deepest
distress; with all the trials to which faith itself is
sometimes subjected to test its strength and genuineness,-we find nothing designed to hinder, but
everything to foster, our faith in God.  As God
hlimself is infinite in excellence, and as oulr hol love
and reverence cannot possibly outstep the boundaries which his nature justifies, so our reasons for
trusting him  are to be bounded and regulated by
the infinite excellency of his own nature.  It is recorded in praise of Abraham, that, " against hope
he believed in hope;" and. the most extraordinary
act of his lifei was faith in the commland of God iln
apparent contradiction to God's promises.  The
history of redemption is the history of the triumphs
of faith; and we learn from  it that it is a sint to
despair while God is graeious, and that all things
are possible to hima that believeth.




46             LIFE OF DAVID.
But let us understand that the faith thus highly
commended is faith in God-in his character, his
covenant, his word and his promises. We must
carefully guard against the delusive idea, prevalent
in many minds, that faith is the firm persuasion
that God will do for us what we ask of him. This
is no definition of faith. If this is faith, then God
is under the government of man —not man under
the government of God. Faith is the belief of
truth respecting God, and the belief of a falsehood
he will not respond to. It would be dishonouring
to God and calamitous to man if God should do,
at man's request, that which the divine,truth and
goodness and wisdom do not approve. If a man
asks that which God cannot consistently do, because
forbidden by his truth or his holiness or his justice,
no confident expectation will secure that such a
thing must be done. And as faith must thus be
conformed to God's character, and as it is presumption, and not faith, which expects him to do an
unholy or an unwise thing, so faith mnust be conformed to the word and covenant and promises of
God. We do not say, indeed, that the thing which
we hope for from God must be expressly named in
his word before we are justified in believing that it
will be granted. But we are certainly never right
in believing that God will grant a desire whose very
character is opposed to his covenants, his truth and
his promises. If he has promised to save only the
believing and the obedient, then it cannot be faith,




THE VICTORY OVER GOLIATH.        47
but presumption, which trusts and expects the salvation of the unbelieving, the prayerless and the
disobedient. Faith need not depend upon an express pledge in the word of God that what we ask
shall be granted.  On the contrary, some of its
most exemplary actings have been when no such
pledge existed. The parents of Moses had no express promise that the life of Moses would be
spared, when, by faith, they laid him by the margin
of the Nile. Esther had no express promise that
her life would be spared when she ventured in before
the king. Our Lord commends the faith of Gentiles who came with urgent requests that depended
upon no invitation. But faith, if not depending
upon a direct promise, must ever ask things consonant with the divine character and the covenant
and promises of God.
Thus the faith of David when he ventured forth
against Goliath accorded with the covenant and the
promises of God. God had promised good to his
people; he was jealous of his honour; he had ever
been ready to help Israel. David took up this
quarrel as one that would vindicate the honour of
God and secure a blessing to the covenant people.
Our believing prayers and efforts for the blessing
of God upon the souls of men around us depend
in general upon God's promises for enlarging his
Church, but for their individual application they
are called forth and encouraged by their consonance
with the divine word and character. God has not




48             LIFE OF DAVID.
promised definitely to convert this or that soul, but
he has encouraged our prayers for such things, and
it is far from being presumptuous to plead earnestly and believingly for those whom we love.
Often he says, According to your faith, so be it
unto you. Let us be reverent; let us study the
principles upon which he answers prayer; let us
rather rejoice when an unwise petition remains unanswered, and we may rely with unbounded confidence upon God's willingness to bless.
But let sinful men rejoice to draw near to God
and exercise toward him that earnest faith which.
becomes the soul's salvation.  The faith exercised
by a soul that hears the gospel and lays hold upon
its blessings unto everlasting life is a faith warranted not only by God's holy character, but by
the express and plain pledges of God's own word.
The question, Is a sinner justified in believing the
gospel to his soul's salvation? is one answered not
only by the direction of the gospel commission,
"TO EVERY CREATURE," not only by the express
promise itself, " He that believeth shall be saved,"
but also by the solemn assurance of that threatening which shuts every soul up to this imperative
duty, "He that believeth not shall be damned."
There is not a living sinner who hears the gospel
message who is not by its own terms warranted immediately to receive it. The man that says now,
" I am a lost sinner; I know that Christ came to
save; I know that if I believe not I must perish;




THE VICTORY OVE1R GOLIATH.          49
I cast away my sins at his bidding; I renounce
every other dependence; I have confidence in his
ability; I trust in his gracious promise; I will
yield myself to his service; I long for his salvation" —this man is a believer in Christ; his humble faith is accepted of Christ; he shall never be
confounded.
4




CHAPTER I II.
DAViID'S TBO UBOJBLS FROM SAIJLJ.
THERE are two important ends which are secured by the varying and severe trials of life.
One is, they tend to fobrm the character; the other
is, they tend to test it. A piece of counterfeit coin
or a fraudulent bank-note may pass currently from
]land to hand for a long time, until it meet the eye
of a competent judge, when its worthlessness is
immediately detected. Or possibly the ring of the
true metal may be so nearly secured in a base piece
that it must be broken or melted down before it is
fully known.  It is the character of a good coin
that it will abide any test, even that of' the crucible; and he who knows his own honesty in passing
money is not afraid of the most rigid scrutiny.
Now we may say, in regard to character, that only
is a virtuous character which will abide the test of
severe examination. He is truly honest who is so
not only upon ordinary occasions, but when motives of gain and secresy are strongest to tempt
him. aside. He only is a true patriot who abides
by his duty in the most trying times and when
most poorly supported by those who should stand
A..




TROUBLES FROM SAUL.            51
by him. He only is a true Christian who maintains his place and piety when the current of irreligion sets all away from truth and the Church of
God, and who finds reason to be more earnest in
the very fact that many around him are remiss in
their duties. But while we thus reason abstractly of what ought to be the principles of a stable
character, we should not overlook the important
fact that character is the result of growth.  As
perhaps no human character is ever perfectly firm
and proof against all temptation-as certainly we
cannot admit that any man is safe without the supportings of divine grace, so those characters that
are now the firmest have not always possessed their
present strength of principle. Even though in earlier life the principles of a man may be as sincere
and as upright as ever they shall be, they are not
as well established. We may admire the giant oak
on the mountain's brow as it spreads its brawny
arms and defies the fiercest storms, but that oak is
now what it once was not. There was a time when
it could have been pulled out of the ground by the
hand of a passing stranger, or when its very trunk
could have been easily snappediin two. It was an
oak then as truly as now, but it needed growth.
And had its subsequent growth been in the shelter
of a conservatory, though it might have grown
more rapidly and to a larger size, it could not have
attained its present firmness and strength. Planted
among the rocks, exposed to every storm, obliged




52             LIFE OF DAVID.
to send out its tendril roots to seek for the meagre
soil in every crevice, during all the life of that"
tree there ha; been a wonderfill proportion, arranged by the providence of God, between the
tempests to which it was exposed and the strength
it had to endure them.  Even if we should say
that the winds swept as fiercely over that mountain
exposure when the tree was a sapling as when it
was older, we must still remember that the tree
felt the violence of the storm just in proportion to
its size, and that before it spread its arms so wide
its roots were equally spread to fasten it in the soil,
and its trunk and branches had their symmetry of
strength with the growth of the whole. Now, just
as it is hard to decide for how much of its strength
the oak is indebted to its exposed position, and yet
easy to judge that it has greater strength because
it grew there, so it is difficult to say for how much
of his strength of character any manl is indebted to
the trials and temptations of life. We do not pretend to say that the analogy between the man and
the tree is a perfect analogy; we do not decide
that the character of a child ought to be exposed
to temptation that it may be formed to resist it;
but as we judge that a healthy and hardy plant is
not to be reared in a hot-house, so we judge that a
decided and worthy character is best formed by a
healthy exposure to cold as well as heat-to the
storm as well as the sunshine.  We fear to have
the young enter into temptation; we warn them




TROUBLES FROM SAUL.            53
against it.  Especially we fear for those whose
principles are less firmly established.  But the
needful exposure involved in their providential
position in life we ought not to fear. Watchful
we may be; watchful we may urge them to be;
but so timid as to shrink back from the path of
duty, so fearful that they may not venture forth to
grapple with the trials of life, we should neither be
for them nor wish them to be for themselves. If
in mature life we may speak of temptations as
testing the character, perhaps we ought to consider
the trials of earlier life as serving to form the character. The young man who contends successfully
and righteously with the trials he now meets will
be prepared to endure the harder trials which life
may yet bring to him. Few men have ever been
great in goodness who have not been schooled for
their public position by a long course of trials,
which, while they have searched and proved them,
have served also to develop and strengthen their
powers for the duties which Providence has designed for them.
The early life of David had been so spent as to
give him the advantage of learning the principles
of righteousness from the sacred word of God.
The value of these years of retirement and of early
instruction it is impossible to estimate; and happy,
indeed, was it for the young man as he ventured
forth into the world that already he was a lover
of God's law and an humble servant of the Lord.




54              LIFE OF DAVID.
This was David's safeguard, as now his bark crept
no lonlger along the shores of his early associations,
but stood boldly out for the rough and stormy sea
of life.  We must go with him now, and see ho\w
these trials and difficulties at once prove his uprightness and prepare him  for more important
duties of the distant future.
How strange it is that as some of the sweetest
consolations and enjoyments of this our mortal
life grow out-of our severest sorrows, so our deepest troubles sometimes spring out of our highest
triumphs! So one of our evangelical poets truly
writes:
"The brightest things below the skies
Give but a flattering light;
We should suspect some danger nigh
When we possess delight."
David is no longer now the youthful shepherd,
but the champion of Israel; he is no longer the
little esteemed of the house of Jesse, but his name
has honourable mention in all the families of the
land; the noble Jonathan gives him  substantial
tokens that he loved him as his own. soul; he is
the idol of the army; and as they come home
from the triumphant campaign, the cities of Israel
pour out their glad processions of daughters with
songs and dances, ascribing the merited honours in
thankful language —" Saul hath slain his thousands
and David his ten thousands." Happy deliverer
of his people! The new and flattering strain fell




TROUBLES FROM SAUL.            55
gratefully on his ear; and the heart of David,
while it swelled with thankfulness toward God,
felt perhaps also a proud happiness as he stood the
chief object'of observation among the crowds of
his fellow-citizens.  But the very height of his
triumph was the source of his danger. The words
uttered so cheerfully by the daughters of the landthe words that fell so pleasantly on his ear-awakened far different feelings in the mind of Saul.
This unhappy monarch, rejected of God, forewarned that the kingdom was to be taken from
him, and ignorant of the time and person through
whose means he was to be cast down, had become
jealous of those around him; and while perhaps he
formed no definite suspicions of David for some
time after this, he took up immediately the expressions of the grateful people and made them
the ground of an envious hostility to the young
man. Though he now owed to David the most
illustrious victory that had occurred in his reign,
it seemed as nothing to the dangerous popularity
which it seemed to have secured to the youthful
hero. " What can he have here but the kingdom?"
is an expression which seems sufficiently to indicate
the turn which Saul's suspicions took; and this
feeling-certainly not without its just groundslaid the foundation for all the unhappy intercourse
of these two men from that day on. We have no
reason to judge that David had any improper aspirations for the kingdom. Even though he had




56            LIFE OF DAVID.
been before anointed-and this he knew well, if no
one else did-yet we can discern in David from
this time onward not a word or thought of disloyalty toward Saul so long as he was king, not a
symptom of impatience, as though he longed to
wear the crown himself. And now we have no
reason to think that David at all understood the
jealousy and suspicion of Saul toward him. The
unhappy passions of envy, jealousy and suspicion
are the tormentors of those that indulge them.
The same events that give delight to others around
them fill them  with wretchedness, and the gladness of others makes them more gloomy. That
night Saul revolved the praises of David in his
envious breast, and by the morning he had a return of his former malady. Yet even in his madness he knew well where to strike, and David was
twice obliged to avoid the stroke of a javelin, by
which Saul would have rewarded his services to
himself and to Israel.
And now begin the checkered scenes of David's
earlier public life, while for a time he is alternately
courted and persecuted by the king, and afterward
driven out from society to wander a fugitive or an
exile. At first, Saul, having no plausible pretext
for his hostility, did not venture to cast him off,
much less to show open enmity. The service rendered had been too great, the love of the people
had been too plainly shown, and the merit of the
young man was too eminent, not to make open hos



TROUBLES FROM SAUL.            57
tility unpopular and possibly dangerous to Saul
himself.  The very things which provoked him
most in David were yet the things which obliged
him to move cautiously against him. But he carefully evaded fulfilling the promise he had made
that the slayer of Goliath should be son-in-law to
the king. If he suspected that David was to be
his successor, it might be a step upon his path to
the throne to become the king's son-in-law even in
a kingdom where no lawful queen ever held the
sceptre. But what Saul keeps back from David as
too dangerous an honour in spite of his royal
promise, he is willing to hold out to him as a snare
to secure his destruction. Knowing his public zeal
and ready valour, he gave him to understand that
by victories over the Philistines he could secure
his daughter for a wife; and though in the very
midst of the negotiations he exhibited his faithlessness by marrying his eldest daughter to another
man, he took immediate occasion to renew his proposals upon learning that his youngest daughter bore
an affection for David. We might almost understand the meekness of David as a want of spirit
to resent the insults of the king, but we are not
to interpret his conduct by the usages of our own
times. Better, at all events, the meekness of David
than a temper of proud defiance. It will perhaps
seldom be found in any man's experience that the
meek endurance of personal slights has been much
cause of subsequent regrets, while hasty resent



58             LIFE OF DAVID.
ments often cause bitter and permanent sorrow.
The snare of Saul was set in vain. David gave
evidence that he had slain double as many of the
enemy as the king had r:equired. No possible
excuse could be alleged, and the son of Jesse becamne the son-in-law of Saul.
And now David is in the family of the king,
and two members of that family at least are
warmly attached to him. These were Michal, his
wife, and Jonathan, his brother-in-law. This position did not abate the jealousy of Saul, but it rendered it needful for him to move cautiously in his
schemes of mischief. But in seeking for those that
might render him the service of killing David,
Saul happily mentioned the matter to his eldest
son. Doubtless he thought that Jonathan would
have much the same reasons with himself for wishing David out of the way. But among all the
characters drawn upon these sacred pages there are
few that command more our esteem and respect
than Jonathan. Hardly a greater contrast could
be instituted than we may find between the father
and the son; and if we allow ourselves to conjecture what would have been the state of Israel had
the natural succession gone on, and Jonathan
reigned in the room of Saul his father, we can
hardly anticipate a sceptre in his hands less exalted
and righteous than the rule in the hands of David.
If we vindicate the downfall of Saul upon principles of divine rectitude, we must rather regard




TROUBLES FROM SAUL.            59
the transfer of sceptre from Saul's family to that
of David as a display of divine sovereignty, which,
while not inconsistent with righteousness, yet rests
rather upon His will who raiseth up kings or casts
them down as he pleases. The upright and loving
Jonathan had no sympathy with the dark schemes
of his envious father. ~ He not only informed David
of the plots formed against him, but devised measures to defeat them. We have no reason to charge
Jonathan with any breach of confidence toward his
father. No worker of mischievous schemes has any
right to make a confidant of an upright man, and
thien expect that he will at least favour them so
much as to keep silent about them. Let every
good man guard against being ensnared by any
promises of secresy in evil things; let him judge
that no righteous principles canll bind him to the
complicity of silence or indifference, and if wicked
men must have confidants, let them be men of their
own stamp.  We may very properly listen to
righteous schemes, and keep sacredly the confidence
reposed in us when we are expected so to do; but
we are under no obligations to keep silence respecting wickedness because its actors have presumed.
upon our co-operation and have made us confidants
of their plans. Jonathan did not even so far comply with his father's plans as to keep silent while
he explained them. As he divulged them to David,
so he expostulated with his father against them.
He so arranged an interview  that David was




60             LIFE OF DAVID.
allowed to listen and learn for himself in what
danger he stood. At this time Jonathan, with the
warmth of disinterested friendship, set before his
father the wickedness of his purposes, and their
especial ingratitude in view of the eminent services
which David had rendered. There was, perhaps,
no living mall who could better venture this remonstrance with Saul or better make it successful.
Jonathan was as deeply interested in the regular
succession of the crown as Saul was; he had gained
a high reputation for wisdom, piety and valour,
and he doubtless had as much influence over Saul
as any one. We cannot, indeed, decide that he
awakened some of the better feelings in his father's
nature and made him ashamed of his suspicions.
Two things were against the safety of David, which
even Jonathan could not explain away.  First,
the evil instincts of Saul were really upon the right
track; and however unjust he was to David or unwise toward God to attempt to thwart the declarations of the prophet, this really was the man to
whom his throne was to descend. Secondly, the
morbid envy and jealousy of Saul were too deeplyseated, evil had too full possession of him, to give
way at any expostulations, or even to yield long to
any convictions. Perhaps it is not just to surmise
that Saul hypocritically gave an apparent consent
to Jonathan's views, with the design still to pursue
his schemes of malice. Bad a man as he was, he
might perhaps start back from the sin of perjury.




TROUBLES FROM SAUL.            61
But in pretence or in sincerity, a promise, even if
sealed by an oath, binds very slightly the conscience of a suspicious and wicked man. The king
solemnly swore that David should be safe, but it
amounted to nothing. He returned to his duties
in the royal presence, and perhaps for a little time
no plots were formed against him. But war sprang
up again between Israel and the Philistines, and
David's precarious position could easily be discerned. He was in danger whichever way turned
the tide of battle. If he defeated the Philistines,
he incurred anew the jealousy of Saul; if he was
defeated by them, they would take their vengeance
for Goliath's death, and Saul would have made his
defeat a pretext for his murderous schemes. The
success of his arms began afresh the plans of the
king. He endeavoured again to strike him with the
javelin, and as David again avoided him —and now
this was an open declaration of his feelings-Saul
was excited to energetic measures and David was
fully upon his guard. An attempt was niade that
night to secure him in his own house. A watch
was set around it to prevent his escape, and but for
the care of his wife the plot might have succeeded.
She warned him of it, assisted him to escape, and
used measures to delay the pursuit as long as possible. She placed an image in his bed and feigned
that he was sick. So the messengers returned to
Saul and told that David was sick.  Perhaps
Miehal thought that the report of his illness




62             LIFE OF DAVID.
would change the current of her father's thoughtspossibly lead him to abandon his attempts, at least
until the issue of the sickness was known. But
the delay occasioned was perhaps several hours
after the departure of David.  Of course we offer
no justification of the falsehoods of his wife in securing his escape.  Her language toward her father
is widely different from the bold stand and the
frank expostulations which her brother Jonathah
would have used in such a case.
The escape of David gave occasion to. his conmposing the fifty-ninth Psalm, and we may mention
this to contrast his character with the falsehood of
his wife.  He ascribes his safety to the watchful
providence of God, and relies with unshaken confidence upon the divine protection, while he describes his pursuers as a disappointed pack of  dogs
round the walls of the city, hungry for their prey,
yet unable to reach it.
The reftige of David was with Samuel.  This
was a natural movement upon his part, but perhaps
it was as.dangerous a step as he could have taken,
unless he had already given up all hope of a reconciliation with Saul.  For if the king's persecutions
arose from his suspecting that David was to be his
successor, these suspicions would be confirmed by
the intimacy of David with the venerable prophet
through whose lips Saul had learned his own rejection.  But it may be that now David preferred an
open outbreak to the insidious plots which up to




TROUBLES FROMI SAUL.           63
this time had been formed against him. He knew
how to guard against open violence; against secret
machinations he knew not how to protect himself.
Samuel took him to Naioth, where was established
a school of the prophets, which would prove a protection against the designs of the king. But Saul
had no regard for the sanctity of places when his
revenge urged him on. He sent a first and a second and a third band of messengers to tear him
away, even from  the presence of Samuel.  But
these messengers returned not to him. Each band
of them, as they came before the prophet and
among the sons of the prophets, was seized by
an uncontrollable divine impulse, listened to the
prophesyings of the young men and began themselves to prophesy. Saul seems to have been in a
transport of rage as he heard of these things, and,
bent upon his wicked purpose, he resolved to go
himself for the arrest of the fugitive.  But his
coming was equally ineffectual. Even the wicked
king of Israel, when he came among the sons of
the prophets, was influenced beyond his own will.
HIe stripped off his royal robes and lay down
naked all that day and all that night. The expression naced is not to be literally understood.
It means simply that he took off his upper garments-those that were the emblems of his royal
estate. WVe cannot pretend to explain the nature
of the influence which rested upon Saul and his
messengers. It excited great surprise, and revived




64             LIFE OF DAVID.
the proverb to which a former occurrence in his
life had given origin, "Is Saul also among the
prophets?"  It expresses the wonderful nature of
the change that had passed upon such a man to
make him appear among those that testify for God.
It may be applied to two distinct classes of' religious experience which we sometimes see: 1st. We
may wonder at the extraordinary spiritual influences which at different times have affected entire
communities. In the great religious excitements
which prevailed in Kentucky and Tennessee at the
beginning of the present century, there were some
affections for which we are unable to account upon
any known principles in physiology, metaphysics
or religion. That there was much genuine religious
experience at these times of religious interest cannot be questioned, for the fruit was long tested in
the Church, and at this very hour one of the most
useful men in the Presbyterian Church is an elder
who was a subject of these peculiar exercises, and
whose piety has been tested since by half a century
of devotion to the service of Christ. But " enthusiasm is the counterfeit of true religion," and where
the genuine much abounds the copy will rarely be
entirely absent. So there was much at that time
that was spurious mixed up with the genuine, and
the bodily effects of the excitements were shared
alike by the willing and the unwilling. Instances
are recorded of men who had resolutely resolved
they would not be influenced, and who had kept




TROUBLES FROM SAUL.            65
out of the way, yet affected against their wills.
"It affected the good and the bad alike," writes
an eye-witness of the scenes-"the aged and the
young. It was entirely involuntary, dreaded and
hated and even cursed by some, while it was desired and courted and highly prized by others."
So, again, "It was not confined to the public
assembly; it invaded the private circle, while engaged in domestic business or travelling on the
road. The same individual was frequently the
subject of it; young and old, male and female,
refined and unrefined, the pious and the wicked
were alike under its operations." There is no real
piety in any of these things, but the point of our
present notice is, that they exist alongside of influences that are really religious. And we have
other examples in the sacred Scriptures besides this
of Saul to show that the influences of the prophetic
spirit fell sometimes upon unwilling and wicked
men. So Balaam was a wicked man, but a prophet.
So Caiaphas, unconsciously to himself, testified concerning Christ's death. We do not pretend to explain all these things; we cannot accurately draw
the line between spurious and genuine religious
influences; but we do as did the Israelites in that
day-we stand and wonder and exclaim, " Is Saul
also among the prophets?" When we see wicked
men continuing in their wickedness, yet compelled
to acknowledge the genuineness of religion, we do
not judge that the mixture of evil in their views
5




66             LIFE OF DAVID.
and feelings destroys the value of their testimony,
but we take what they confess as the verdict of their
consciences to the truth. When we see ungodly
men upon a sick bed asking for the prayers of the
pious and longing for the death of the righteous,
we do not judge that their unrighteous lives, after
a sudden restoration, is proof that all their views
were wrong. We take the testimony of their consciences in an honest hour in favour of the true
excellence of religion even in their esteem. When
we discover in the unguarded or the unwilling testimony of men who have no religious predilections
proof corroborative of the evidences of Christianity, and find even our enemies bearing witness that
God is with us, we regard it as the finger of God
bringing good out of evil and calling light out of
darkness. In all those cases we ask, "Is Saul also
among the prophets?"  As God held his hook in
the jaws of even the rejected king to restrain him
at his pleasure, so often he causes the wrath of man
to praise him and restrains the remainder thereof.
But, 2d. This proverb may apply, not only when
men experience religious influences that have no
transforming and permanent effect upon their characters, but with yet more force when the entire
man is changed by the renewing power of God the
Holy Spirit. Do we wonder that Saul, the king
of Israel, should be constrained by a power he
could not resist to utter words of prophecy and to
stand back from the revenge he meditated? We




TROUBLES FROM SAUL.             67
may be yet more surprised that the Spirit of God
long afterward arrested another and a greater Saul
as he was on a fiercer errand against the greater
Son of David-that Saul of Tarsus, so much aside
from his thoughts, should be smitten down at noonday, and after three days of blindness and perplexity be led as a humble follower of Jesus to
spend years of earnest and holy labours for the
good of his race! We may be surprised that the
Spirit of God should take a man like John Bunyan
and transform the profane soldier, the. wicked, Sabbath-breaking tinker, into the devoted preacher, the
inimitable dreamer for the rich instruction of
Christian people in all after ages.  Perhaps we
have met in our own experiences instances of the
most surprising changes wrought in the most sovereign and remarkable manner as to the persons,
the time, the means and the important results.
But it is really true that every genuine conversion
of a soul through the power of the Spirit may
excite our thankful wonder. Strange that any sinful soul should be so changed by the influences of
the Divine Spirit! The change that makes any
man truly pious is the effect of divine power.
As it occurs in many persons who have been trained
all their lives to observe many precepts of religion,
it is less striking in its external results, and therefore the evidences of it are not so apparent. But
a thorough change in the man results from it. It
produces an entire change in his relations to God,




68             LIFE OF DAVID.
and involves the most glorious prospects beyond
this life. The effect upon Saul, to make him lay
aside his revenge for a season, is not worthy of
comparison with the influence of religion upon
David, to produce meekness and patience and
trust in God in the midst of these unprovoked
persecutions.
The varieties of human experience are as great
in religion as they are in other matters. As each
one of us has a past history peculiarly his own,
however much it may be like another man's life, so
each one may expect the future to differ from all
we have heretofore felt and known. Every day of
life has its lessons, and the profit we derive from
them may not at all be proportionate to the importance we now attach to them. The period of
David's life at which we now look is one of very
great importance in fitting him for his future
duties, and he here shows some of the most quiet
yet most valuable and difficult virtues of piety.
He here shows meekness amidst his provocations,
and a forbearing and forgiving temper amidst unprovoked persecutions. In all ages piety has required that the heart be schooled, and the showy
accomplishments which men have admired have
been of low esteem in the sight of God. He that
hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that
is broken down and without walls. As God had
said before that David was chosen for the throne
of Israel, not because of his noble bearing, but be



TROUBLES FROM SAUL.              69
cause of the virtues of his heart, so will we see
that these virtues shine brightly in these early
times of David's unjust persecutions from Saul.
Every young man especially is wise when he regards himself in his providential lot as undergoing
those trials which tend at once to test and to form
the character.  We must not decide that only in
adversity are men tried.  If we are surrounded by
all that heart can wish, we should fear lest our
prosperity should prove our snare. If we have
difficulties to contend with, let the overcoming of
these give us strength for future tasks. But overlook not what too many regard as the trifles of life.
If we decide that a man's principles of truth and
honesty can be tested by trifles; if we judge that
he is a liar who wilfully tells a single falsehoodthat he is dishonest who wilfully defrauds another
of a single penny; if we claim that the dereliction
of principle is aggravated by meanness when a
man consents to be a liar or a thief for a trifle's
sake, —when we say that we cannot prejudge how
far the man may go astray who has thus begun, we
should transfer all these decisions to other matters
of conduct and character.  Nothing is a trifle that
is right or wrong. The spark of anger that is
stricken out from our rough contact with a neighbour cannot be safely allowed to burn, or the little
fire may kindle a great matter.  Err on the side
of forgiveness, not of revenge; of meekness, not
of impatience; of suffering, rather than of inflict



70             LIFE OF DAVID,
ing evils-if there can be any error in fostering
good or in suppressing evil. The hasty word let
go cannot be recalled; how often we have wished
it could! The unholy thought indulged often increases to more ungodliness. Every day we need
to watch; we are not safe in any hour of carelessness. We have no greater matters to attend to than
the care of our own spirits, especially in reference to
those cardinal principles which regard our eternal
well-being. Yet let us not neglect the chief of these
things-the reconciling of our simple hearts themselves to God through the mediation of Jesus
Christ. For we have often heard his question of
unanswerable emphasis, "WTWhat is a man profited
if he gain the wholeworld and lose his own soul?"
The man who has practically neglected the great
matter has reason to judge that his past experience
has found him wanting, and has reason to fear that
the longer he allows this to be so, the danger increases that he will rank with Saul rather than
IDavid-be rejected rather than accepted. What
care we. indeed, for any of our duties without the
divine blessing and assistance? How mad to decline the needful aid which the Holy Spirit of God
proffers! How cheerfully should we hear and obey
his voice, and harden not our hearts!
To refuse to repent this hour, though we know
that our sins and the voice of God call us to the
duty, is a peril from the venturing of which every
immortal soul should earnestly shrink back.




CHAPTER IV.
THIE ERI-ENDSHiP 01? DAVID AND JONATI'HAN.
"_A FRIEND loveth at all times, and a brother
is born for adversity."  These are the words
of the wisest of mortals. To say that they commend themselves to our common experience is but'
to recognize that the wisdom of Solomon was practical, and that his most valuable thoughts seem to
express only what every one else could utter. It
may be that Solomon learned many of the truths
he uttered concerning friends and friendship from
the remarkable attachment between his father and
the eldest son of Saul. If any one wishes to know
what true friendship is, and to see how firm and
abiding are its attachments, let him study what the
sacred pages tell us of the intercourse of David
and Jonathan. As if to sustain David in the unjust and unexpected trials to which he was exposed
from his first entrance upon public life until the
death of Saul, Providence raised up for him a
friend of the most tender attachment, of the most
disinterested affection and of the most enduring
constancy. It is not possible, perhaps, for us to
explain fully the grounds of a genuine friendclship.
7i




72              LIFE OF DAVID.
It is not mere esteem, for we may esteem one for
whom we have not this peculiar attachment; it is
not mere congeniality of temper, for, though friendship can exist only between kindred spirits, it is
such congeniality as admits of wide diversity of age,
culture, engagements and even tastes.  It would
rather seem  that true friendship, like some other
attachments of life, springs in a large degree out of
inexplicable sympathies between the parties. There
may be rational grounds of esteem toward one who
still does not hold the place of a friend in the intimate sense of that word; there may be kindred
tastes and dispositions without this relation; so
that, however proper these things may be to form
a wise basis of friendship, they are not the sole
grounds.  No friendship can be true or lasting that
is not supported by those proper qualities in the
parties which justify the claims it makes upon them;
but it arises also froIn promptings of- natural sympathy, which direct these kind affections toward this
or that person, while others, quite as worthy of the
sentiment, are not the objects of it. As we often
see ill-assorted marriages, and wonder how these
parties could ever be drawn together-while yet we
must confess that they love each other truly-so we
find it difficult to explain many attachments of
friendship. The cases are not parallel, we may
admit, but they are sufficiently so to illustrate the
point before us.  Let friendship be founded upon
estimable qualities; let there be congeniality of mind.




FRIENDSHIP OF DAVID AND JONATHAN.  73
We need more than this; we need a certain sympathetic bond of union, which draws men together
as friends more than mere esteem  or mere congeniality can alone do.
In ancient writings, and in the writings of later
times, much is said of friendship-its nature and
claims and its excellences.  The most celebrated
instances of friendship in ancient history and poetry
are Damon and  Pythias, Nisus and Euryalus,
Scipio and Laebius, David and Jonathan. It would
indeed be a defect in the sacred Scriptures if, as a
celebrated infidel insinuates, they made no inculcation of this virtue.  The charge is as bold and as
false as if one should venture to charge it upon
the sun that he did not shine. Nowhere are truer
friendships fostered than under the influence of
Christian piety.  If, as Cicero very properly urges,
true friendship must be subservient to true virtue,
we may as properly urge that mutual virtue is an
important preparative for the sentiment of friendship; and surely the prospect of permanent colmpanionship, as held forth by Christianity, is an aid
to these social attachments which Paganism was
Nwholly incapable of affording. And so we find not
only that the Great Master of Christianity was
susceptible of the delights of friendship, but that
his followers have ever cultivated it. In reading
the life of Dr. Chalmers, there are few chapters
that do more honour to the nobler feelings of the
heart than that which gives us an account of his




74             LIFE OF DAVID.
tender attachment-interrupted, indeed, by an early
death-to a young man named Thomas Smith.
But let us consider the instance here brought
before us-the friendship of David and Jonathan.
It was not the mutual friendship of two persons
upon an equality with each other. We judge that
Jonathan was older than David, as he was also
superior in rank. He was the king's son, and was
already a hero of tried experience in battle before
David is ready to go forth in the armies of Israel.
It is not needful that friends should stand upon an
equality. It may even be that one is able and
willing to bestow large favours upon the other,
though a mercenary expectation of such favours as
the bond of attachment is inconsistent with true
friendship in the dependent party. But it deserves
to be considered that, while favours may be received by a friend without indulging such a mind
as leaves us chargeable with selfishness, the power
of granting favours may be an important test of
disinterested feeling in the giver. So we see it in
this case.  David and Jonathan are warmly attached to each other, but so long as they both lived
all the sacrifices which we find mentioned are sacrifices on the side rather of Jonathan than of David.
The subsequent history of David makes him appear
the prominent character, but if we judge of them
during the period of their attachment, we mullst
decide that Jonathan is David's superior in age, in
social position, in the sacrifices which his friendship




FRIENDSHIP OF DAVID AND JONATHAN. 75
makes, in the bestowment of kindness, and apparently also in the exhibition of strong feeling.
The soul of Jonathan was knit toward David even
when he was comparatively unknown in Israel,
while Jonathan was the king's eldest son. Doubtless it is but justice to acknowledge that David
deserved his warmest esteem and affection, but it
was a rare mind indeed that was willing to bestow
such affection in such a case. One of the strongest
of the bad passions of men is jealousy, and few are
more easily roused in the mind. And when we see
the bad feeling so keenly awakened toward David
in the breast of Saul, it seems the more strange
that a son of Saul should be so entirely free from
it. If ever a man had reason to be jealous of another, Jonathan had reason to be jealous of David.
Men are usually tenacious of their military standing; and just at the period when Jonathan seemed
the most promising leader in Israel's armies, David
stood forth and by his victory over the giant of
Gath became Jonathan's military rival. When
the hearts of the people were turned toward the
eldest son of Saul, the son of Jesse became a new
object for their warm affection. It is yet more to
be noticed that at a time when a venerable prophet
had predicted the downfall of his father's family,
when the heir of the throne might well look with a
scrutinizing eye upon any man that would be likely
to come between him and the right of his inheritance, Jonathan should fix his esteem and exhibit




76             LIFE OF DAVID.
his tender attachment toward tile very man who
was to take his place and wear the crown that by
natural descent belonged to him.  Nor are we
doing justice to the character of Jonathan if we
suppose that he gave his warm affections to David
because he was ignorant of the rival claims which
he thus held. It may be, indeed, that in the beginning of their friendship he foresaw little or
nothing of these things; but it is very certain that
he abated nothing of his love at a later period,
when both he and his father were well persuaded
that David would be the future king. So we are
told that during the time that David hid himself
fromn Saul, Jonathan " arose and went to David in
the wood and strengthened his hand in God; and
he said unto him, Fear thou not: for the hand of
Saul my father shall not find thee; and thou shalt
be king over Israel, and I shall be next unto thee,
and that also Saul my father knoweth."
~We have here exhibited, then, a wonderful degree of disinterested feeling in the friendship of
Jonathan for David. Admire as we should the
qualities in David that called this forth, let us give
that honour to Jonathan which his noble conduct
deserves. Friendship has ever been noted for the
sacrifices it is willing to manke. but the history of
the race affords no more excellent example than
this. See how easy a thing it would have been for
Jonathan to remove out of his way a dangerous
rival, whose success he had such good reason to an



FRIENDSHIP OF DAVID AND JONATHAN.  77
ticipate.  He did not need. to strike a blow himself.
Had Jonathan but stood out of the way and allowed the malice of his father to act, David would
have been slain.  And men are often willing to
allow that to be done which they would not venture
to do themselves; and they allow  their minds to
be at ease for crimes at which they have but connived.  No upright mind will ever reason so; no
one whose heart is truly interested for another will
be any more ready to see an evil befall him which
he can prevent than himself to inflict it.  The
true reasoning is,
" He that declines to ward it, gives the blow."
WTe may neither do evil, nor, if we can prevent,
may we suffer it to be done.  A heart that feels
right is the soundest casuist.  Jonathan  loved
David, and he allowed none of the conflicts of interest to excite his jealousy.  But in order to a fair
understanding of their mutual attachment, it becomes us to notice that it had its firm foundation
in piety. Every good writer upon this subject acknowledges that virtue is necessary to the firm and
just esteem and affection inspired by true friendship. It is interesting to notice, in Cicero's treatise
upon Friendship, in how strong terms he condemns
the thought that any one for friendship's sake
should be willing to do an unrighteous thing. It
is no excuse for a fault that it was committed for
the sake of a friend, for friendship cannot exist




78              LIFE OF DAVID.
when we depart from virtue. It is asking too
much of' any friend to demand that he should support or aid us in wrong. It is not in the nature
of thlings that we can put confidence in one who
would so do, for he who is willing to wrong truth
and justice can hardly be faithful to anything else;
and lie can easily judge that one who wishes him
so to do would not scruple to do the same. Tile
attachments of wicked men are liable to be easily
sundered when policy or advantage seems to demand this.  A true and reliable friendship rests
upon the solid foundation of virtuous principles.
The friendship of David and Jonathan was eminently a pious friendship.  There is not a vestige
of any feeling on the part of either which does not
seem to breathe the true spirit of piety, and this of
an exalted nature.  Look first at the conduct of
David through the whole period —from the first
mention of this extraordinary attachment until the
death of Jonathan-and he voluntarily gives his
friend not a single occasion for jealousy or unkind
feeling.  It is true David did seem to take the
legad of Jonathan from his battle with Goliath onward. He was in high esteem among the people,
and every act seemed to increase his popularity. It
is also true that David became king of Israel, and
that he was the proper person for Jonathan to fear
in regard to Samuel's prophecy. But to do David
full justice in the case, it is also true that none of
these things came to pass through his scheming;




FRIENDSHIP OF DAVID AND JONATHAN.  79
that he was as loyal to Saul as a subject could beas loyal to Jonathan as a friend could be; that in
no single instance did he wrong his friend or plot
against his king. mVhen Saul was inflicting upon
David the grossest injuries, when he separated him
from his wvife, exiled him from the land, banished
him from the ordinances of Israel's worship and,
hunted him for his life " as a partridge upon the
mountains," there was not a moment of the whole
period in which David was betrayed to a word or
act hostile to Saul or traitorous to Israel. We may
find fault with some of his sayings or doings in
these times of trial and persecutions, but not touching these things-his friendship to Jonathan and his
loyalty to Saul. Though provoked by Saul's injustice, grieved by his cruelty in putting to death
the Lord's priests, and doubtless convinced of his
growing  incompetency to govern the kingdom,
David took not the slightest step toward the kingdom which might justly have excited the jealousy
of Saul or his son. Nor can we say he had no opportunity. Saul was twice at least in his power,
and self-defence would in both cases have been a
plausible plea for freeing himself from  his malicious persecutions.  If, as we shall presently see,
their friendship cost Jonathan many sacrifices, we
may judge also that it cost David a vast deal of
forbearance.
But let us look next at Jonathan's side of the
matter. We have already seen that it was not in




80             LIFE OF DAVID.
ignorance of the dangers to his interest which lay
couched beneath David's advancement that Jonathan continued his warm attachment. The matter
gradually became clear to him that the God of Israel designed David to sit upon the throne. His
own father called his attention to this evident tendency of things, and urged him, for his own sake
as the heir of the throne, to join in the efforts for
David's destruction. And he saw for himself, from
the rising influence of David and the plain working of God's providence, that this must be the
issue. And we greatly misjudge this noble-mindedc
prince of Israel if we suppose that through tameness of spirit he consented to pass below David
and take the second place in the kingdom, where
his own birthright bade him look for the first.
We account for this conduct of Jonathan upon the
noblest principles. It was not a weak mind becoming subject to a stronger; nor was it the sacrifice which a friend will make to gratify a friend,
since such a principle might justly make David
keep his own place and retain Jonathan's esteem,
while he also maintained his.  We account for
Jonathan's submission to David's prospective prosperity in this way: that he was a pious child of
Israel's covenant, who meekly acquiesced in the
decision of Israel's God, and who would not allow
himself to resist the movements of his providential
will. Having no fault to find with David and his
conduct, he will not take occasion to find fault for




FRIENDSHIP OF DAVID AND JONATHAN. 81
the workings of God's providence in David's behalf.
Indeed he calmly recognizes the tendencies of Providence for David's advancement, furthers them by
his advice and protection, makles a solemn covenant with his friend, in the details of which not a
trace of envious feeling can be found, and cheerfully acquiesces in the sacrifices which he is thus
called to make.
All this was simply the duty of Jonathan as a
pious man. Since God evidently exhibited this
flvour toward David, it would have been folly and
madness for him to resist the divine will. But we
honour the man who does his duty, especially when
he departs widely from the course which men generally adopt, and when his conduct is in wide contrast with those whom  he might be expected to
imitate. The dealings of Saul toward David are
widely different from  the line of conduct in his
pious son. Saul had as good reason to judge well
of David; he had given him no cause for enmity;
he was his faithfill servant. But the king of Israel acted toward David in violation of every
sacred duty, and made use of the most violent and
wicked means to secure his death.  Not content
with aiming directly at his life and with stirring
up the members of his family against him; not
content with laying snares in his very fidelity and
bravery; not content with breaking his own royal
promise for his safety, the king even massacred a
whole village of the Lord's priests where David
6




82             LIFE OF DAVID.
had been entertained, and went forth himself to
pursue the fugitive when he feared that his own
troops might fail in fidelity or in energy.  In
short, whether we make the contrast between the
forgiving temper of David and the implacable
nmalice of Saul, or between the meek submission
of Jonathan to the divine -indications and the
restive rebellion of his father, we may equally
discern the piety of the two friends, and see that
their mutual attachment is strengthened by the
common bond of an earnest faith in God. The
favour of God shown to David is for Jonathan no
cause of alienation.
The two friends upon one occasion made a
solemn covenant with each other with reference to
future matters. Doubtless this originated -in the
anxiety of Jonathan respecting the events he anticipates. Ite has gradually come to recognize that
his friend, and not himself, is to be the king of the
land; and knowing well the changes which power
often produces and the cruelties which often attended a change of kings, he desires to secure his
own safety and that of his family. In this interview David exhibits more fear of Saul, for Jonathan
would naturally judge leniently of his father's designs, and from such a son Saul would be likely to
conceal much, while Jonathan exhibits more faith
and foresight respecting the plans of providence.
He made David swear, not only to show him kindness while he lived, but also to continue his kind



FRIENDSHIP OF DAVID AND JONATHAN. 83
ness to his children afterward.  To give David
assurance of the peaceful designs of Saul, he promised to bring the matter up for conversation between him and his father, and ascertain definitely
and tell his friend the truth of the case. It resulted as David had anticipated; and Jonathan,
true to his friendship, told David the whole. Perhaps they had not designed to see each other if
Jonathan's report was unfaivourable for their mutual
safety, lest Saul should- know  that his son was
more closely drawn toward David, lest his anger
should be kindled against Jonathan, lest it should
be less in his power to discover the plans devised
against David. But their warm affection could
not obey these urgings of policy. They were now
about to separate, and but once after this did they
ever meet again. David came forth from the place
of concealment, where he had heard all that Jonathan desired to communicate, and the two met in
warm and tearful embrace. The solemn covenant in
the presence of God was renewed, and they parted.
Doubtless in the subsequent wanderings of David
he received many tokens of sympathy from his
friend. He was supported in his trials by knowing
that one heart even in Saul's house beat in kindly
unison with his. We hear little more of this
noble-minded man from this time forward, save
the simple record of his death upon the battle-field
of Gilboa. He went into that battle perhaps with
sad presentiments, because the jealousy of his father




84             LIFE OF DAVID.
had driven off Israel's most illustrious warrior; and
though doubtless Jonathan fought bravely until he
lost his own life in the vain effort to retrieve the
fortunes of Israel, yet even he would have struck
harder blows for victory if the arm  of David,
which had never turned back from the foe, had
been with him in the battle. The hope of success
is often the chief means of securing success.
If David, though separated from his friend
Jonathan after this, yet held him  in the most
affectionate remembrance, and  never forgot the
solemn covenant they had made, we can easily
judge that it was far better for the advancement of
providential designs that Jonathan should die in
the great battle which proved fatal to Saul. The
people in general were yet loyal to the family of
Saul, as appears evident from  the fact that they
put one of his sons upon the throne. If Jonathan
had been alive, he would have been made a rival
king to David-an event that might have been
deeply disastrous to the interests of all the tribes.
But the lamentation of David over his early death
is sincere and truthful, in entire keeping with the
tenor of his life as faithful to his friend. And
many years after this David remembered his covenant in behalf of the house of Jonathan.  When
Jonathan died upon Mount Gilboa, he left behind
him one son, then five years of age. Through the
fiight of his nurse, who caught him up to escape
when the sad tidings came of Israel's defeat, the




FRIENDSHIP OF DAVID AND JONATHAN. 85
poor child became a helpless cripple for life. For
this son, now grown to maturity, David made
ample provision; and though afterward he seems
to have judged of him too hastily upon the doubtfill report of an interested informer, yet the provision he made for Mephibosheth was such as to
render him comfortable for life. We might indeed
say that the unfortunate condition of this son of
Jonathan appealed to his sympathy; but let us not
forget that Mephihosheth was the son of the heir
of the throne, and thus, notwithstanding his infirmity, might have many friends in the kingdom,
to the endangering of David's prosperity; and we
may see the king's generosity and faithfulness. Nor
is this an idle suggestion of a thought that David
did not weigh. When Ziba treacherously accused
Mephibosheth to David, this is the very charge he
made against him: "To-day shall the house of
Israel restore me the kingdom  of my father."
David did for the son of Jonathan only what the
covenant with Jonathan bade hinm do, and what
his warm friendship might otherwise prompt.'But, considering the frail tenure of monarchy in
the East and the usual jealousy of monarchs, he
did otherwise than many would have done in his
place. As he had received favours from his friend
when Jonathan had the power to bestow them, so
he is willing to make his sacrifices when the power
belongs to him. That only is true friendship
which abides the test of changing fortunes, and




86             LIFE OF DAVID.
which forgets not to cherish its warm attachments,
and to nmake its cheerful sacrifices when death has
made its separation between the parties, and time
has filled the survivor with new and pressing cares.
There was also another occasion when the friendship of David for Jonathan, and the covenant they
had made together, were the means of saving the
life of Mephibosheth.  The crime of Saul in persecuting the Gibeonites had brought a judgment upon
the land, which could only be averted by giving
some satisfaction to that injured people. They demanded that seven of the descendants of Saul
should be delivered into their hands as reparation
of the injury. The transaction will be more fully
considered hereafter.  We mention it now only to
bring to view the kindness of David toward the
son of Jonathan.  He selected seven other descendants of Saulto suffer death, and for the sake of his
covenant spared Mephibosheth.
We remark, by the way, that the sacredness of
an oath is shown plainly in this transaction.
Thoucgh the Israelites had been deceived in covenanting with Gibeon, and though four hundred
years passed before the oath was violated, the
breach of such an oath and after so long a time was
severely punished. In the light of this transaction,
as well as urged by his own friendly feelings toward Jonathan and his family, well might David
be willing to remember his covenant and spare the
son of his early friend.




FRIENDSHIP OF DAVID AND JONATHAN. 87
Upon the general subject of friendship, we may
remark that there are two classes of friends. The
first includes the large circle of persons with whom
we maintain kindly intercourse-this circle is
smaller than the number of our acquaintance-for
the indulgence of kindly feelings toward all men,
even toward the hostile, the iinjurious and the
wicked, is fully consistent with our refraining from
all dangerous and unprofitable company. Though
we may be willing to do good to any man, there are
men whose society we may avoid; and there are
many into whose company we may often be thrown,
with whom yet we cultivate little intercourse.
Many are profitable as acquaintances and general
friends who do not wish any intimate relation to
us, and with whom Mwe need but to exchange those
courtesies and kindnesses which make up so much
of the enjoyment of life. The second class includes
those whom  we receive to intimate friendship.
Some of these are more closely drawn to us than
others.  But a few may be very near and dear.
They are our counsellors in perplexity, our supporters in adversity, our comforters in sorrow.
They share our delights, and we are truly glad in
their prosperity.  It is proper for every one to
have special friends. Let them be carefully selected, let the intercourse we have with them  be
fiank, sincere and faithful, and never should any
mere changes of worldly condition affect our attachmnent to them.




88             LIFE OF DAVID.
But, above all, for the sake of the permanency
and the real excellence of our friendship, let it be
founded on virtuous principles. If a heathen philosopher, uninstructed in the great teachings of
divine revelation, should "lay it down as a primary law concerning friendship that we expect
from our friends only what is honourable, and (ldo
for our friends what is honourable,"* if such an
one could say, "Virtue both wins friendship and
preserves it,"t much more should those that are
taught in the sacred Scriptures desire to make true
piety the substantial basis of every friendship.
We may find those that love us, those that formn
sincere attachments to us, those that are willing to
do much for us, and those to whom we have formed
strong attachments, where piety is wanting. And
yet there is an important matter lacking when the
heart is not right before God. Can we be entirely
true to man when we are faithless toward God?
If you knew a man to be a faithless husband or a
disobedient and unkind son, could you fully trust
him as a faithful friend? Is it not a more dangerous lack of principle when the duties we owe to
God are forgotten?
But true piety is the firmest basis of friendship,
because it alone promises a permanent attachment.
There is a sense in which the best delights of earth
are the deepest sources of trouble to an ungodly
mind. We are liable to lose our best treasures in
* Cicero, De Amicitia, { viii.  t Ibid., { xxvii,




FRIENDSHIP OF DAVID AND] JONATHAN. 89
any passing moment. These enjoyments of friendship, how soon may they be lost! Death, unpitying
Death, steps in to sever us from those we have loved,
and we soon know them  no more. Oh what a
poor consolation is that to which the philosophic
mind of Cicero turned upon a friend's decease!"If this be rather the truth, that the death of the
soul and of the body is one and the same, and that
no consciousness remains, as there is no advantage
in death, so certainly there is no evil." If we lose
a friend, the loss is irreparable. This is Paganism.
Upon Christian principles the separation of ungodly friends is more dreadful indeed; but we have
the most precious supports and comforts when
friendship is associated with piety. If we love
each other as Christian friends, then the principles
of the gospel hold out to us the animating prospect
of everlasting and  happy companionship.  The
ties that bind us together are not only more tender
and delightful in their very nature, but they grow
more precious as they grow older; death separates
us from a large circle of friends, but it also introduces us to a much larger circle. Everything that
can endear us to each other is provided for in the
promises of the gospel, and the everlasting bliss
of heaven is the completion of all. Surely those
who prize the delights of friendship should desire
to sanctify it with the privileges of piety.
It is obvious that the highest honour to which
any man can aspire is to be the friend of God.




90             LIFE OF DAVID.
Here is a friendcship where indeed the parties stand
not upon an equality. There is infinite condescension on his part to ask our friendship. Do we
wonder at Jonathan, the king's son, desiring the
friendship of the shepherd boy-stripping off his
own clothing to adorn him, and willing to descend
from the very throne that his friend may be
crowned a king? All these are feeble analogies to
the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. The Son of
the Eternal King left his throne of glory to raise
us to immortal crowns; left his robes of light to
clothe us in garments of righteousness; and died a
shameful death that we might live for ever. No
comparison drawn from  mortal scenes can adequately present the condescension of his grace.
Can we hold back when he calls us to share his
friendship?  It is by our sins we are at enmity
with him-at enmity with God; and to atone for
these he shed his priceless blood. Here is a Friend
worth having indeed. Can immortal minds be
called to the enjoyment of a higher privilege?
"There is a Friend that sticketh closer than a
brother." If the expression may apply to those
we know here, how much rather is it applicable to
him? The dignity of this great Friend, the infinite excellence of his character, the abundant resources of his wealth and his willingness to bless us
with the largest benefits, are all reasons why we
should desire his love. Blessed are all they who
put their trust in him!




CHAPTER V.
DA VID'S TILIGHT_ TO NOB AND GATE.
T HROUGH  the disinterested faithfulness of
Jonathan, David is now fully aware that all
hopes are at an end of any reconciliation with Saul;
and though conscious of his own loyalty, he can
easily understand that no care or pains would be
spared by Saul to secure his destruction; especially
if there is likelihood that Saul now had heard of
his anointing by Samuel. David therefore resolved
to seek refuge in a foreign land. This was a sad
alternative for a Jew, but not without its examples
in other cases, and even by divine direction. When
the prophet Elijah was in necessitous circumstances,
and could not venture to seek relief among his own
people, he was directed to go to a widow woman in
the neighbouring country of Zidon, where he remained for over two years. If we had nothing
else to charge against David except his seeking
refuge among the Philistines in this period of persecution, his conduct could be better vindicated.
The tabernacle seems at this time to have been
at Nob. It is sad proof-if we needed further
evidence than that furnished by the life of Saul91




92             LIFE OF DAVID.
of the low estate of religion in Israel that we cannot even trace the wanderings of the tabernacle.
It is at one time in one place, at one time in another; and if here said to be at Nob, the place of
its sojourn was so insignificant that we cannot fiully
decide where it was. It was evidently a small city,
perhaps belonging entirely to a few families of
priests. After parting with Jonathan, David came
to this city first in his flight. It would seem that
he arrived there on the evening before the Sabbath.
The Jewish day was reckoned from sunset to sunset. He came there on Friday evening, and, as the
Jewish law forbade travelling upon the Sabbath, he
expected to remain there till the sacred day was
past. The proof that he was there on the Sabbath
lies chiefly in this, that the shew-bread was changed
upon the day he came there, and the law expressly
made the priests change it on the Sabbath.*  This
is corroborated by the fact that Doeg, the Edomite,
was that (lay detained before the Lord-i. e., he was
not allowed to travel upon that day-and that
David and his men were compelled to eat the
shew-bread.  The necessity arose not so much
from the fact that in his hasty flight they could
not wait till food was prepared, but from the fact
that upon the Sabbath-day it was not lawfill to
kindle a fire or make even the hasty preparation
of a meal.  It is said that David escaped that day.
This seems to tell us that he did not remain there
* Levit. xxiv. 8; 1 Chron. ix. 32.




FLIGHT TO NOB AND GATH.            93
over the Sabbath.  The sight.of Doeg there, with
whose character he was doubtless well acquainted,
alarmed him  lest tidings of his route and delay
should reach the ears of Saul.  He had good reason to fear that the unscrupulous king would pay
but little regard to the Sabbath, and he felt himself justified ini continuing his journey, even on the
sacred day.
The high priest, Ahimelech, was greatly surprised to see David alone, unarmed and no man
with him. le was not indeed entirely alone. tie
had young men with him, as the narrative plainly
declares.  But he was the son-in-law of the king
and one of the chief officers in the army, and for
him to come with so small a retinue was to be
"alone." Alas! David departs widely fromn the
character he has usually maintained, and answers
the inquiry of the high priest, and this too at the
tabernacle of God, with deliberate falsehood.
There is no reason why, on the one hand, we
should think to vindicate David in this thing, or,
on the other, palliate his sad offence by considerations which subvert the very foundations of pure
morality, as some that rank among Christian moralists are willing to do. Here is the first important
stain upon the character of David; he was doubtless betrayed into it by an improper, unbelieving
and exaggerated sense of personal danger.  We
cannot say, with Archdeacon Paley, that it is no
wrong to lie to save your life or your property, or




94             LIFE OF DAVID.
where little inconvenience will result from  the
falsehood, for in a matter of plain right and
wrong the results of an action are not to determine
their moral quality. The Bible never teaches us
that we may do evil that good may come. Let
Jesuits say, "The end justifies the means."  We
have no such maxim. Yet, if even Christian moralists, at so late a day teach that a falsehood is
sometimes justifiable, we may recognize that the
prevailing sentiments of any particular age often
carry good men along with them  to judge and
allow things that are not really right. A. hundred
years ago things were not thought wrong in the
Church which more enlightened piety now abhors.
A  great change has ~aken place in reference to
many matters. A century ago, good men were
engaged in the slave-trade, and within that period
churches have been erected from the proceeds of the
drawings of lotteries; and a great change has taken
place in the views and practices of Christian people
upon the subject of temperance.  TNow, if we argue
upon these things abstractly, we must allow that
the standard of right and wrong is of unchangeable
excellence.  What was right a thousand years ago
is right now, and what was then wrong has not become virtuous by the lapse of years. Yet the guilt
of a transgressor is to be judged by the light upon
his mind, and by the influences against which he
sins. In a certain sense, the sin was the very same
for a mall to destroy himself by intemperance a




FLIGHT TO NOB AND GATIt.          95
hundred years ago as for a young man to do it in
our ovwn age. In another sense, the sin is very different; it is almost a perfect contrast. So many
influences then favoured intemperance that the
wonder is how a young man could escape from
forming the wretched habit;* now, on the contrary,
though there are many insidious influences favouring the spread of intemperance, every young man
can escape who wishes to do so; and the sin of
forming the habit of drinking intoxicating liquors
in an age when so much has been said upon the
subject is very great. Thus we see that men are
to be judged not simply by the immutable laws of
morality, but by the light and sentiments of their
own age. The reasoning may, perhaps, be less applicable to falsehood than to many other things.
What is thought wrong in one age is not thought
erroneous in another. It is our duty for the government of our own hearts and lives to secure and
follow, as nearly as we may, the true standard of
morality, but when we are judging of others, true
justice and true charity alike require us to understand the true state of the case and to make every
proper allowance. David is to be judged according
to the age in which he lived.
It does not seem to be true that the character of
David as an inspired prophet is to be reckoned as
lifting him above the imperfections of the age in
which he lived, and as therefore placing him at
least upon a level with us. For certainly the in



96              LIFE OF DAVID.
spired character of the Old Testament prophets did
not put them in the same rank-as to clearness of
intelligence —with the New  Testament apostles,
and in neither of them did the inspired authority
of their public ministry free them  from errors in
their private capacity.' The fall of Peter, upon two
occasions at least, is proof enough of this.
These thoughts may enable us to form a more
correct idea of the sin of David upon this occasion.
We have no desire to apologize for him, but we
have no wish to exaggerate his offence. The sin
of falsehood is always a great sin. No virtue that
is ever understood, appreciated or cultivated among
men is more important in itself and in its influence
upon the character, and in its influence over others,
than the love of truth.  No volume ever known
on earth is so truthful, is of so nmuch power to
make men love the truth, as the Bible.  The law
of truth in all its fulness and integrity is here set
before us, the inflexibility of its demands is clearly
explained, and the most powerfill motives, drawn
from the character of a holy God and the infinite
rewards of heaven and hell, are presented to impress upon us the value of this great virtue.  This
is a world of lies indeed, but against every inroad
of fhlsehood this holy volume lifts up its opposing
standard.  If there be any two things needful to
the estate of man as a reasonable and responsible
being, they are knowledge and conscience; and both
these demand our unchanging adherence to the




FLIGHT TO NOB AND GATH.            97
truth.  No man can be intelligent except as he is
able to rely upon the truth-the belief of a falsehood is not knowledge-and without truth neither
wisdom nor virtue can effect any valuable results.
David told Ahinelech that he had been despatched upon the king's business, that it was a
secret matter, and that he was to meet his suite at
an appointed place. This was all deliberately untrue. There is no sin of which a man can be more
fully aware that it is committed in violation of
right than lying. We are not, indeed, to regard it
as lying when a man declares that which he believes
to be true, if even his words are false. Every man
should use carefi:ully and diligently the best sources
of information in his power; should endcleavour, to
separate the false from the true, the doubtful from
the certain, and should avoid all deceitful and exaggerated representations. But with all the caution
that a man can use he is liable to be deceived.
With all sincerity of aim and motive, such a mall
may then deceive others. It is possible that even
unintentional falsehood may not pass through a
man's mind without leaving its influence to darken
the understanding; as a quenched coal, though it
does not burn the hand, mlay leave its black mark
upon it. Yet we do not lose our confidence in the
moral character of a man who has deceived us
when we are assured that he himself was equally
deceived, and had no design to speak untruthfully.
We make this plain distinction: that a falsehood is
7




*98. LIFE OF DAVID.
the assertion of that which is not; true, be the
motives of him who speaks what they may; while
a. lie is a-falsehood, with the additional vice that he
who utters it is aware that it is false. Such lies
may be greatly aggravated by the motives that
prompt them  or by the results that flow fronm
them; but in its very lightest form knowingly to
utter that which is not true, with the design or result of deceiving another for any reason, is a sin
against the clearest dictates of conscience, and of
such a nature that no virtuous man should ever be
willing to extenuate it. The word of God upon
no page gives its sanction to this dangerous vice,
but it places among its closing warnings an enumeration of the characters who shall never enter the
glorious-presence of a truth-loving God; and there
let the guilty read this prominent description, Whosoever loveth and maketh a lie.
This sin of David had not truly the common
plea of necessity. He doubtless felt that he was
in danger of his life as he fled from the vengeance
of Saul, and it may be that he pleaded this necessity
at the bar of his own conscience as an excuse for
his bare falsehoods; but it does not seem evident
that he needed to say these things. The rule of
sincerity, which ought to govern every man, does
not forbid us to be silent in regard to the truth or
give partial and evasive information where the design is not to deceive, but to conceal. So Samuel
concealed the main design he had at Bethlehem




FLIGHT TO NOB AND GATH.           99
when he allowed it to- be known that'Le:came'
there to sacrifice. We are never allowed, ifh d"
to use falsehood for the purpose of evading inquiries, but when it is proper or important to conceal
the truth we may be silent, or we may avoid curious and dangerous questions by partial information.
It does not seem in this case that the priest inquired so curiously into the business of David as
to give him even the appearance of necessity for
the story he firamed. Iad he simply said that he
did not feel free to tell his errand, it, ought to have
been enough. It was not a case where any duty
called upon him to declare his business. Concealment was his privilege. Any undue pressing of
the inquiry would have been improper meddling
on the part of his interrogator; but in no case
of all these can we justify his deliberate untruthfulness.
Nor would we vindicate the conduct of David
as recorded in the latter part of the chapter, as it
may be proper to consider that point here. When
David left Nob, he went to Gath and took refuge
there with Achish, the Philistine king. It was
indeed a bold venture for the man who slew Goliath to go thus to the very city where the giant
belonged.  Perhaps he thought it safer to go
among a people at war with Saul, rather than
among the peaceful nations around, who might
be disposed to deliver him up at Saul's demand.
Perhaps he thought that his standing in the armies




100            LIFE OF DAVID.
of Israel might be the cause of his glad reception
among the Philistines-as long afterward the Volscians received Coriolanus, the Persians Themristocles, and the Bithynians Hannibal. But this only
involves David in deeper deception, as we shall see
that at a later period he did appear to favour the
Philistines, while he had no design to turn his
hand against Israel, but was simply consulting his
own safety.  Nor had he been long at Gath before
he found that the battle with Goliath was not forgotten against him. He heard them speak of him
not only as the victor over their champion, but as
the very king of the land; that is, doubtless, the
man to whom  had been ascribed honours even
superior to those ascribed to Saul. These whisperings alarmed David, and he began to meditate
his escape.  His stratagems again take the form
of deceit.  In the East the person of a deranged
man is sacred.  No matter what kind of excesses
are committed by a lunatic, no attempt is made
to restrain him. If this was the custom in those
lands, as it is now, we may easily see the reason for
David's assuming that character, and account for
the success of his stratagem. The Philistine king,
it would seem, at first did lay his hand upon him,
but after this he even drove him  away from his
presence. (See Psalm lvi., title.)
But to return to the falsehood of David to the
high priest: let us notice, further, that his falsehood
was one of very serious mischief. It is but slight




FLIGHT TO NOB AND GATH.           101
justification for an act of wrong in any case that
no harm was meant by it.  We do not intend to
say that a thoughtless falsehood is in itself as heinous as a malicious lie, nor that a man is as fully to
be charged with evil results as if he had designed
them.  But, as the common proverb runs, "A liar
should have a good memory," because false statements made at various times are almost certain to
be inconsistent with each other; so a sinner ought
to be able to cast his thoughts far forward and over
a wide territory, lest the time may come when his
evil deed will bring forth far larger and more mischievous fruit than he would wish to gather. The
man who plants good seed is never afraid of too
large a harvest, but the man who plants thistles
may find them spread faster than he desires, and
may heartily wish some day he could root them all
up. David did not design the mischief he wrought
that day. But we cannot hold him guiltless; his
own conscience held him  not guiltless of the sad
consequences of that day's falsehood.
The painful result will be noticed again.  We
cannot properly dismiss what we say of his falsehood without adverting to the penitence of David
in regard to the entire matter. The fifty-second
Psalm was written in view of the slaughter of the
priests by Saul upon the information of Doeg, the
Edomite. The bitter evils of a lying tongue are
therein graphically set forth, with special regard to
the additional falsehoods of Doeg, but surely also




102            LIFE OF' DAVID.
with due regard to the falsehoods of the Psalmist
himself, less malicious in design, but the source of
so much evil. The thirty-fourth Psalm was composed when he changed his conduct before Achish.
In it he again brings forward, in a remarkable
manner, the importance of keeping the tongue from
speaking evil and the lips from uttering deceit; so
that when we connect the Psalm. with the Psalmist's
thanksgiving for his escape upon that occasion, we
can hardly regard. it otherwise than as his recognizing a most unmerited' forbearance on the part of
God toward his deception, as his conviction that
such deception is by no. means necessary to their
safety who are under the divine protection, and as
his earnest dissuasion to prevent others from imitating a course like that which he pursued.
But it would scarcely be proper to overlook an
important reference made in the New Testament,
and by our Lord Jesus Christ himself, to this portion of David's history. When David and his
men were hungry, they received from the hands of
the priests and ate the shew-bread. This bread
was made of fine flour, and twelve cakes or loaves
of it stood continually upon the golden table in the
tabernacle, an offering to God fronm the children of
Israel as a memorial of their continual providential dependence. These loaves were replaced every
Sabbath day by fresh ones, and since the whole
had been devoted to God, it, was unlawful for any
one to eat of them except the priests. This was'




FLIGHT TO NOB AND GATH.          103
the express commandment. On the plea of necessity, David and his men broke this express law.
They were hungry; they could scarcely tarry till
otler bread could be prepared, and it seemed a
violation of the great law of the Sabbath to prepare any. They ate the shew-breadl.  Our Lord
justifies the action. Hiis citation of this case seems
the more in point for his argument with the Pharisees, because they charged him with violating the
Sabbath, and this act of David's occurred on the
Sabbath. It is a matter of interest for us to ask,
In what respect does our Lord here justify David?
and what is the true bearing upon the perpetual
obligation and sanctity of the Sabbath of our Lord's
controversy with the Jews?  We may get true
views of the Sabbath from the Son of Man, the
Lord of the Sabbath.
We have no just reason to think that our Lord
here would derogate from the full propriety and
perpetual obligation of the law of the Sabbath.
He himself kept the Sabbath, and spoke of it as an
institution which should remain in force after the
disappearing of the Jewish dispensation.* And
when he tells us that the Sabbath was made for
man, whatever else he implies, he teaches that it is
not a local, sectional or national institution, not
one belonging only to this age or that, but that as
the necessity for it and the benefits of it belong to
man as a race, so its institution was at the Creation,
* Matt. xxiv. 20.




1-04.          LIFE OF DAVID.
and its obligations belong to man whenever or
wherever he lives. If the Saviour had at all designed to deny the obligation and sanctity of the
Sabbath, his language would have been quite different. But his argument is plainly directed to the
just interpretation' of a law whose obligation is
acknowledged. As no lawyer would argue any
cause by explaining a law which is no longer of
force, but as such a law is dismissed as needing no
interpretation, so the very arguing of the case by
our Lord is the acknowledgment of the yet binding force of the Sabbath. Indeed his discussions
with the Pharisees seldom had reference to the Old
Testament laws themselves, but to the false interpftations put upon those laws. He could say of
the laws themselves, "I am not come to destroy
the law, but to fulfil."  The true spirit of any law
is the law itself. The false rendering of a law is
of no obligation. Our Lord vindicates the law of
the Sabbath from the glosses of the Jews, and
teaches us that the true spirit of every law is rather
to be regarded than the mere letter of it.
It is plain that the letter of the law was violated
both by the disciples and by David. The disciples
were allowed by the law of Moses to gather and
eat as many heads of barley as they pleased while
they passed through any man's growing field, but
they were not allowed to gather for the purpose of
carrying away. This law itself suggested the merciful character of the Lawgiver, since it gave the




FLIGHT TO NOB AND GATH.          105
hungry the opportunity of supporting life, while it
stopped short of supplying more than their necessities. The law made a nice distinction between
what a man might carry away to increase his own
stores-which would be theft-and what he might
need for his present distresses, which charity might
easily grant him. The law of the Sabbath has the
same two aspects. If the disciples had gathered
food for other days as they passed through that
field, they would have violated both the law of
honesty and the law of the Sabbath. If they had
entered that field as harvest labourers under the
direction of the owner of the grain, their work would
have been honest enough, but it would have broken
the Sabbath. Gathering grain for their hunger and
to eat as they passed along was not dishonest, for the
law expressly allowed it; it was no violation of the
Sabbath, for while the law of the Sabbath forbids
servile work, the design of that prohibition is to be
justly considered, and any work that conflicts not
with the end of the Sabbath law is not forbidden
by that law.'
The case of David is remarkably analogous, and
our attention may well be called to the wonderful
readiness of reply and the close adaptation of every
thought and word to its place which ever characterized our blessed Lord. No matter how difficult
the topic or how unexpectedly he was called to discuss it, his extemporaneous replies confounded
every adversary and delighted every friend at the




106            LIFE OF DAVID.
time, and have been the delight and amazement of
keen-witted friends and foes ever since. Well may
we say of him, "Never man spake like this man."
This case of David is exactly in point. David
plainly broke the letter of the law. No man but a
priest ought to eat the shew-bread. But times and
circumstances are to be regarded. So Samuel had
previously assured Saul that sacrifice was inferior
to obedience-that no ceremonial observance could
claim precedence of spiritual duty. It would have
been wrong for David to eat the shew-bread had
there been other there; his necessities laid aside
the ordinary law and justified what had: else been
sacrilege. It was right to argue that God would
be better pleased that the special necessities of
David and his men should be satisfied than that
the bread be used for the ordinary necessities of
the priests.
While it is just that the law of the Sabbath
should be thus interpreted as we should explain
every law, it is obvious that to set aside a plain precept on the plea of necessity or expediency throws
the door open to wide abuses, and of this men who
care little for the Sabbath will take all advantage.
Suffice it for the present to say that no man can
have a clear conscience upon the subject of the
Sabbath, or any other moral: subject, who does not
take pains to study it, so that he may understandit, and that those who are unwilling to submit to
thle law as God has imposed it will find some kind




FLIGHT TO NOB AND GATH.          107
of subterfuge to stupefy their consciences and allow
them peaceably to do as they please. If any mall
is really disposed to know and do his duty toward
God in regard to the law of the Sabbath, he can
easily know what that duty is. Let any one keep
before his mind the design of the Sabbath as hallowed to the Lord's service, and he can easily decide upon the duties enjoined upon the irrelevant
engagements which yet are allowed. The line is
clear and distinct which separates doing our own
ways and finding our own pleasure and speaking
our own words upon the Sabbath, from the duties
appropriate to the day. Allowing that it may be
right to do some servile works on the Sabbath, yet
ordinary labour violates duty; the labours allowed
are justified only so far as necessary, and the conscience should be careful to notice when we are disposed to urge this allowed and necessary indulgence
too far.
But we must return to the narrative. David
received from the hands of the priest the sacred
bread and the sword of Goliath, and by the use of
the ephod-how we do not understand-he inquired
of the Lord for him. It would seem from this as
if David's hurried flight to Gath was by divine direction. If so, it would relieve him of the apparent
wrong of going into a heathen land, but it would
aggravate his unbelief in God's protecting mercy
as shown there. Perhaps the fact that lie had Goliath's sword with him may have increased the




108           LIFE OF DAVID.
danger to which he exposed himself in going to
Goliath's own city. But there was a man at the
city of the priests who took sad note of the proceedings.  This was Doeg, an Edomite and the
chief of Saul's herdsmen. This man was there
" detained  before the Lord;" which doubtless
means that he was not allowed to travel upon the
Sabbath. It is not likely that this man understood
David's fugitive character at the time, but, knowing his devotion to the interests of Saul, David
was afraid of him as soon as he saw him. And
not without good reason; for soon after this Saul
reproached his servants for their delay in searching
for David, and charged them with seeming not to
favour his cause; and Doeg related what had occurred at Nob. To the whole transaction he gave
a colour which really belonged not to it, but which,
before a monarch so jealous as Saul, was fatal to
Ahimelech and the entire city. The lying lips of
Doeg would make it appear that the priest knew
David as a fugitive, and had assisted him through
disfavour to the king. The enraged Saul sent for
Ahimelech, and charged him with a conspiracy with
David against his throne. The astonished high
priest answered with dignity and truthfulness, like
an innocent man. He had known of no charges
against David; he had regarded him as one intimately related to the royal family and esteemed in
the army; he had been accustomed to inquire of
God for him; and in this case he had been told, and




FLIGHT TO NOB AND GATH.          109
he believed the assurance, that David was going on
the king's business. But this just and dignified
defence availed nothing before the anger of Saul.
He was resolved that no favour shown to David
should go unpunished.  He therefore gave command to his guards to fall upon the priests of the
Lord and put them all to death. The reverence
which the Hebrews paid to the ministers of God
forbade their obedience, and the guard shrank back
with horror from the wicked and cruel command.
The king then gave the command to Doeg. It
does not appear that this man was even a nominal
proselyte to the Jewish religion.  He was an
Edomite, and felt restrained by no scruples respecting the servants of the God of Israel. Possibly, too, having told his lying story, he is fearful
that close inquiry might implicate him in the doom
of the high priest; for the question might be asked,
If Ahimelech knew David's errand, did not Doeg
also know it? And if so, why did he make no
effort to stop him?  But Doeg felt no scruples.
MWith the aid of men under his command, he massacred in cold blood eighty-five priests, together
with the women and children and the very cattle
of the place. Abiathar, the son of the high priest,
escaped and fled to David, and filled his heart mith
remorse as he reflected that his falsehood was the
first cause of this great calamity. So he said to
Abiathar, " I have occasioned the death of all the
persons of thy father's house."




110            LIFE OF DAVID.
Two important results to the progress of affairs
followed this cruel massacre:
First. It must have produced a great shock to
the authority of Saul all over the land; have filled
the minds, especially of pious people, with horror;
and, while it awakened the nation to the controversy between the king and David, have spread
abroad also the conviction that the words of Samuel
for Saul's rejection were soon to be fulfilled. And
it is worthy of our notice respecting this wicked
man that from first to last his rejection and ruin
were the legitimate results of his own sins.
Secondly. The cause of David was promoted by
the wicked and ill-advised measure.  Not only
would the tide of sympathy flow in his favour as
for one who had given the king no just ground of
persecution, but had been the rather distinguished
for his zeal and faithfulness-not only would the
tidings now begin to circulate that Samuel had
anointed him for the crown-not only would Saul
and his cruelties now be put in contrast with the
virtues of the son of Jesse-but the entire religious
sentiment of the land would turn in his favour,
since now the high priest had been forced to join
him in his exile, and since there was little reason
to believe that religion would again flourish in
Israel while Saul maintained his throne.




CHAPTER VI.
TIZ  P-ERSEGUTT'IONS Of SAUL.
T-IE danger of David, when he trusted himself
in Gath, was not imaginary, for in the title of
Psalm lvi. we are told that the Philistines laid hold
upon him. But his feigned madness was successful in deceiving them, for in the title of Psalm xxxiv.
we are told that the king drove him away. HIe
returned to Judah and took refuge in a cave at
Adullam, which is near Bethlehem. By this time,
and especially perhaps after the slaughter of the
priests, the malice of Saul and his unfitness to rule
became more clearly exhibited to the nation, and
they began to form a party in favour of David. It
would seem that the relatives of David now became the objects of Saul's rage. So we find David
compelled to remove his parents out of danger.
Not willing that they should share his privations
in the cave, he committed them to the care of the
king of Moab, with whom they dwelt in safety.
Gradually David gathered about him a band of
men, some of whom remained with him during all
his reign and were among the renowned men of
his army. Some of them came to himn now, and
111




112            LIFE OF DAVID.
some came after this, when he was in Ziklag.
Originally a great number of them  were lawless
men. Some came to avoid their creditors; some
to escape punishment for their crimes; some because of the oppressions of Saul's government, and
others from  sympathy with David, from attachmlent to right or from restless love of adventure.
Some of these had been David's companions in
many a fierce battle.  Three were David's own
nephews-the sons of his eldest sister, Zeruiahand they became famous in the history afterward
-Abishai,Joab and Asahel. It is not certain that
the Amasa here named is the same as Aimasa who
was the leader of Absalom's army, but Benaiah,
the son of Jehoiada, was long after this the leader
of the armies of Israel in the days of Solomon.
It is greatly to the credit of David that he gradually brought under wholesome discipline these
various materials, and that under his control they
formed, not a mere predatory band, but a valuable
foundation of a future army. He checked their
lawlessness and forbade any outbreaks that would
seem disloyal to Israel. The presence of the
prophet Gad and of the priest Abiathar was doubtless of great assistance to him in maintaining a
wholesome discipline, while, as we have before intimated, the slaughter of the priests had alienated
the minds of many pious men from Saul; and many
of these were perhaps present with David. The
strong attachment of his soldiers to him reminds




PERSECUTIONS OF SAUL.          1-13
us of the enthusiasm which all great commanders
are able to inspire in their followers. One instance
is given of attachment and valour on their part,
and of piety on David's. The war now in progress
had so far turned in favour of the Philistines that
they occupied the city of Bethlehem, and perhaps
because it was the scene of war, as well as for
Saul's jealousy, David  had removed  his aged
parents. In the heat of harvest, and perhaps
poorly supplied with good water, David thoughtlessly expressed a wish for a good drink from the
well at the gate of Bethlehem. He had often
drank there when he was a boy, and the enjoyment
of it naturally came up before him now that those
times of careless and hearty cheerfulness were past.
The expression of the wish originated a plan with
three of his mighty men to procure the water for
him.  We can hardly think, from  the result,
that they asked his consent to the plan. They
broke through the guard at the gate, drew  up
water from the well and brought it to David. But
David would not drink of it. Much as he desired
it. there was something here of which he highly
disapproved. Not their valour, but their foolhardiness. It would have been a noble act for
these men thus to break through the guard of the
Philistines if any adequate motive had called for
the enterprise. But true courage is to be judged,
not simply fiom its daring, but from the proper
object that calls it forth. True courage is moral
8




114            LIFE OF DAVID.
courage, and moral courage is based upon reasonable motives. To rush into a burning house wvhen.
nothing is to be saved firom it, to stand before a
coming danger when wisdom bids us stand aside,
to hold out an unflinching finger that a venomous
snake may strike it, are instances of folly, not of
bravery. We want something more than steady
nerves. David- wished no act like this to be repeated for him. This wvalter, secured at the peril
of life, seemed too costly; he could not venture to
drink it. No man should peril life but when God
calls, for the voice of duty is the voice of God.
Rather than drink the precious draught, so rashly,
so dearly purchased, David poured it out before
the Lord. He thus taught his army, in the most
significant manner, that their valour should be wisely
directed-that their lives should be put in jeopardy
only at the call of duty.
- Perhaps it was immediately after that harvest
that David learned that the Philistines had come
up against Keilah that they might destroy the
grain which the Israelites had just gathered.
David and his men, though persecuted by Saul, remained faithful to Saul's kingdom. Yet, when he
had smitten the Philistines and delivered Keilah,
the ungrateful citizens plotted to betray him into
the hands of his great enemy. But made aware
of their treachery, David left the city and the
scheme failed. But David's help in defeating the
common foe only gave Saul greater leisure to pur



PERSECUTIONS OF SAUL.          115
sue him. He roused all his energies to seek him,
and at one time he nearly laid his hands on him.
The Ziphites promised to deliver him into Saul's
hands; and while David and his party went on
one side of a certain hill, Saul and his men were in
full pursuit upon the other. It is likely that Saul's
force was larger than that of David, but we may.
justly judge that an encounter between them was
prevented by David's policy. He did not wish
to fight against one whom  he still regarded as
king. His sole effort was to avoid any conflict.
lie succeeded in doing this until a reported invasion of the Philistines called Saul off in another
direction.
In his absence, David drew off his men to a
safer position. Near the Dead Sea, upon high and
inaccessible rocks, is a fountain called Engedi-i. e.,
the fountain of wild goats, as though that venturesome and surefooted creature alone could reach it.
Here Saul followed him as soon as he was relieved
from his anxiety concerning the Philistines, and
this time he took with him a force of three thousand men. David continued his eluding policy,
and his loyalty and generosity were soon made apparent. Saul fell into his power. He chanced to
enter alone the cave where David and his men were
hidden, and they had him completely in their
hands. Yet the passions' of his men were so under
the control of their leader that no harm came to
Saul. But David himself ventured to cut off the




116:           LIFE OF DAVID.
skirt of the king's garment-for what purpose it is
hard to say. It would seem trifling and dangerous
merely to allow the king to depart with a token
that he had been in the power of the enemy, since
it would be a plain clue to find David's secret
place. But so great was David's loyalty that his
heart smote him for venturing an indignity even so
trifling as this against the anointed king. Following, therefore, his own generous impulses, he went
forth and called after Saul, exhibited the proof that
he had indeed been in; his power, and urged in a
forcible expostulation that he was innocent of the
charges nmade against him  or of any harmful designs against Saul. If he had been at all disposed
to do violence to the king, or to put forth his hand
toward the kingdom, he surely had that day possessed a favourable opportunity for the death of
Saul. Scarcely any man could have decided otherwise than that such an act in him was a justifiable
self-defence.
The words of David had a strong effect upon
Saul. His conscience bore witness to their truth,
and though, like all other good influences upon
this unhappy man, the effect was transient, and he
soon began to pursue David as bitterly as before,
yet he now confessed all that could be wished. He
was even affected to tears, perhaps in part fiom his
own near escape from death, and acknowledges that
David had behaved far better than himself. He
could scarcely call him an. enemy when he allowed




PERSECUTIONS OF SAUL.          117
him to go free though he could so easily have
taken his life; and he discerns beyond all this the
certain truth that the crown shall belong to David.
So lhe exacted from David a solemn oath that when
he did reign he should not cut off the family of
Saul. This oath David made and kept. We have
no account that he took the life of a single descendant of Saul to gain his throne or to make his
seat more secure. If the death of Ishbosheth enlarged his dominions, yet he had no share in that
crime, and he avenged it upon the murderers. But
evidently David had little confidence in the promises of Saul: he still kept in his strong place,
and had need of his vigilance as much as ever.
The next incident in David's history is the account concerning Nabal. This man-whose very
name signifies a fool —was possessed of great riches,
especially in flocks and herds. David's men were
needy, and perhaps often even pressed with hunger.
Their position of self-defence was the most difficult
possible to maintain. If they had been at open
war with Saul and the Israelites, they could easily
have supported themselves.  The forbearance of
David is fully equalled by the control he had over
his troops to restrain them from acts of outlawry.
We get here a glance, however, at their means of
support. Large flocks were kept in this frontier
portion of the land, but constantly exposed to
attacks from the Arabs and other wandering tribes.
We need not wonder that the borders of Israel




118             LIFE OF DAVID.
suffered from such predatory incursions. The like
was suffered by the North of England from Scottish marauders for many years; and on our own
frontiers incursions of the Indians have been frequent and are still feared.  David and his men
protected the shepherds who had these flocks in
charge, and received in return provisions for their
support.  Hearing that Nabal, whose flocks were
large, had sheared his sheep and had appointed a
feast of rejoicing for it, David sent some of his men
to salute him, to plead the privilege of a festive
occasion and to ask of him such a gift as he might
be pleased to bestow. The answer of Nabal was
exceedingly rough and repulsive. He was, perhaps, attached to the house of Saul, but his own
penurious disposition and his churlishness were the
real reasons for his rejecting these demands in so
rude a manner. All this was the worse because
needless. If he had chosen to decline, he might at
least have done it without such insulting language.
Courtesy is, perhaps, not strictly a virtue, but it is
at least near of kin to the virtues. The injunction,
Be courteous, is one enforced upon us by apostolic
authority.  Mere manners can never make a man;
it is not seldom that the most refined manners are
allied to villainy; yet the true spirit of politeness
is one of importance, and the usefulness of many a
good manll has many a time been marred by the
rudeness of his carriage. "A soft answer turneth
away wrath,' but grievous words stir up anger."




PERSECUTIONS OF SAUL.          119
Both parts of the proverb here find their illustration. Nabal had wellnigh paidl dearly for his folly
and rudeness. David could exercise almost any
amount of forbearance toward Saul, but he will
bear little with INabal. Indeed, his anger awas excessive. Though indeed this fool had done little
against him, compared with the injuries he received
from Saul, as if' to show that we need to guard
against lighter as well as against severer injuries,
David rashly swore that he would cut off the house
of Nabal. He gave command to his followers to
gird themselves for a march, and with four hundred men set off for Nabal's abode.
The catastrophe was prevented by the prudence
of Abigail, the wife of Nabal. Learning from one
of the herdsmen the application which David made
and the repulse of her husband, she made hasty
but liberal provision for averting the coming storm.
Without acquainting her husband with her design,
she rode to meet David. The address slie made
when she met him is full of wisdom. Well, indeed, might any man, before he engages in any
rash deed, ponder the weighty words of Abigail.
After all is over, forbearance, forgiveness, mildness
and kindness will bear to be remembered and reflected upon, when harshness, revenge, injury and
violence breed only remorse. How often do we
wish in vain to recall the harsh word, the hasty
deed! Even those men who are usually calm and
just are liable to the rising of indignation, and




120            LIFE OF DAVID.
need the restraint of wholesome advice at the nice
and proper moinent. David appreciated the wise
counsel of Abigail, and thanked her for it. He
returned without coming to Nabal.  The result
was, that Nabal, when he heard of the imminent
danger to which he was exposed, was greatly terrified, and died about ten days afterward. David
soon after married Abigail, by whom, perhaps, he
received the chief possessions of her former husband; and he also took Ahinoam of Jezreel to be
his wife. These, with Michal, detained from him
by Saul, made three wives then living.
%We do not know how long the calm continued
between David and Saul. Our next record is of
the renewal of strife. Saul, having received such
information of David as led him to suppose he
could easily take him, came out with an army
similar to that he had before brought.  David,
however, was upon his guard. He not only knew
of his coming, but with his nephew, Abishai, he
ventured to go into his camp in the night. We
can hardly suppose that, even with a superior force,
Saul would set no guards around his camp when
he came against a warrior of David's experience;
yet it is possible he was less careful because he
knew well David's policy of escape and avoidance.
Whether they had sentinels or not, the whole camp
was providentially asleep when the two came, and
they penetrated to the very midst where Saul layhis spear stuck in the ground at his head, and a




PERSECUTIONS OF SAUL.           121
vessel of water beside him. It had been an easy
thing now for David to put an end to his persecutions, to pave the way to the throne and to revenge
all his sufferings.  And Abishai not only urged
this, but offered to do it effectually himself at a
single stroke, and argued that the opportunity was
afforded him by the very providence of God.  But
David does not argue so. And here he teaches us
a lesson we may not lay aside.  We are far too
prone to interpret providence upon Abishai's principles. The faivourable opportunity to do what we
desire is regarded as an indication of providence
that thus we should do. And indeed providential
openings are to be regarded and carefully improved.
EBut we are to interpret providential opportunities
upon righteous principles.  It is plain-that the opportunity of stealing a sum  of money with little
danger of detection is no providential indication
that we ought to do it. The opportunity to do evil
is a trial of principles, not an indication of providence. David decides upon righteous principles.
He judges that it is not his place to avenge himself; especially that, as Saul was a king lawfully
anointed, no private injuries could justify him  in
striking at his life, and that he is bound to leave
in the hands of God the termination of Saul's life,
and the vacancy of the throne that he was yet to
ascend. We have no reason to regard this as a
kind of fatalism  in David, which, sometimes in
silliness and sometimes in absurdness, says, " What




122            LIFE OF DAVID.
is to be will be."  For in all the Scriptures no
pious man expects the fulfilment of God's purposes except in the use of appropriate means.
David knew  that the crown and throne of Israel should one day be his, and he now refuses to
do that which may make them his, but he does not
therefore teach us that no means were necessary to
secure this predestined and predicted end. He
rather teaches us that no matter how certain or
how proper is the end proposed, we are at liberty
to use only lawful means to secure it. It was, perhaps, a great temptation to David to free himself
fiomn his troubles and to wear a little sooner the
coming crown by one decided act; but in his present forbearance he is but carrying out yet farther
the lesson he has learned of Abigail. It should
be no grief to know, no offence of heart, that he
had not shed even Saul's blood causelessly, nor
avenged himself for his malicious persecutions.
We follow providence when we abide by principle,
and every offence against righteous principle, whatever may seem to be the apology for it, is an offence
also against the providence of God.
David therefore restrained Abishai, and taking
with them the spear and the cruse of water, they
left the camp.  Choosing the summit of a hill from
which he could make himself heard, but which
was doubtless difficult of access in case of pursuit,
he called to the camp of Saul, and taunted Abner
with the little care he had taken of the person of




PERSECUTIONS OF SAUL.          123'
the king. His voice was at once recognized by
Saul, and he takes this new opportunity of expostulating with him upon these causeless persecutions. As he has gained new proof that he has no
designs against Saul's life, as the wickedness which
Saul charges on him, if indulged by him, could
have urged him to use his advantage and to slay
him, his very forbearance is proof of his innocence.
Saul's conscience again decides for him. He sees
again how near he has come to death, and that he
had played the fool and erred exceedingly.  Moreover, he sees in David's conduct a plain proof of
the divine guidance and protection, and he feels
assured that he should succeed in reaching the
throne.  He recalled his men therefore fronm the
pursuit, and allowed David to go his way.
It is evident, however, that David had no confidence in Saul's present state of mind, and indeed
past experience had taught him that he could rely
upon none of his professions. But the next incident we read is in wide contrast with his previous
faith. A little while ago he is sure that God will
fulfil his purposes without undue interference upon
his part; now he gives way to the promptings of
unbelief, and says, " I shall one day perish by the
hand of Saul."'  Then he would use no unlawful
measures; now he exclaims, "There is nothing
better than that I should escape into the land of
the Philistines."- And this is his language just
after his signal deliverance should have increased




124            LIFE OF DAVID.
his faith. Through the unguardedness of our sinful minds we often fail to improve our mercies, and
temptations to evil beset us successfully when we
are elated by some signal advantage.  Why did
not David argue for God's protection from his past
deliverances?
We believe David was clearly wrong in deciding
to throw himself among the Philistines, and this
the more from his past experience there; and we
need not wonder, therefore, to find this unbelieving
step followed by other proofs that he has grieved
the Spirit of God and goes farther in the way of
backsliders.  But now  that he goes there, we
may be surprised that it is to the same city of his
former refuige, and that the king of Gath receives
him  so favourably.  It is possible that he goes
there now upon an invitation.  By this time the
Philistines are fully aware of' the breach b)etween
him and Saul, and Achish, at least, may be disposed to use David against his king. As lie now
took with him  a body of six hundred men, he
found that their support would be too much of a
tax upon Achish.  He therefore requested that the
king would assign him a city to dwell in. This
the king did with great liberality. The town of
Ziklag, in the southern part of Canaan, originally
belonging to the Israelites, but now possessed by
the Philistines, was assigned to him, and from this
time forward it belonged to the kings of Judah.
Here David abode for a year and four months: the




PERSECUTIONS OF SAUL.          125
original is, days and four months, and Josephus
says he was there four months. From  Ziklag,
David went forth upon an expedition against some
of the Canaanitish tribes upon the south, destroying theIn and taking their spoil.  Not much is said
concerning this warfare, and what is said is not to
David's credit. If these nations were friiendly to
Achish, then we must pronounce the conduct of
David at this time a base abuse of the confidence
reposed in him by Achish. But we need not aggravate his sinll beyond what is plainly told us. It
is possible that these tribes were a remnant of the
nations with whom Israel was commanded to make
war-as we know the Amalekites were-and they
may have been not at all the allies of the Philistines. In this case the offence of David would consist in his falsehood, prompted by a desire to stand
well with his new friends, and to leave the impression upon the mind of Achish that the breach
between Saul and himself was entirely beyond repair. But David here shouws us that disingenuous
conduct only leads a man into greater difficulties.
What he would have done at a later period, had
he been called to be actually present in the battle
where Saul.was slain, we do not know. Crooked
policy is never safe or comfortable policy, and it
bears explanation as badly as it bears to be practiced. Happily, upon that occasion the providence
of God, bearing with this erring servant and treating him  far better than he deserved, delivered




126            LIFE OF DAVID.
David from the embarrassments into which his untruthfulness had led him, and he was neither compelled to be ungrateful to the king who had sheltered him  in distress, nor an enemy to his own
people.
We will take further occasion to remark upon
the great difference we may so often see between
religious persons and religious- principles.  The
principles of piety are of infinite excellence; the
practice of pious men is often widely inconsistent.
The Bible teaches us in no case to apologize for the
wrongs it records.  Indeed, the candour of the sacred writers in telling us the faults of even religious
men is proof that we are not to copy them. But
chiefly now let us reflect upon the dangers and difficulties to which we are exposed by long-continued
and ensnaring temptation. Before we find too much
fault with David, let us sincerely consider whether
we could have escaped from the like severe trials
with our principles less compromised. David was
a man of like passions with ourselves.  The weary
months he passed in exile, far from the privileges
of God's worship, exposed to unusual fatigue and
privation, and with companions who seldom sympathized much with his pious feelings, may have
found him often depressed in spirit and filled with
fears that his enemy would prevail. In these circumstances let us admire him that he so steadily
kept his loyalty to Saul, returned good for evil,
turned the left cheek to him who smote the right,



PERSECUTIONS OF SAUL.            127
and maintained his earnest, longings for the sanctuary of God's worship.  Let us pity and sympathlize with him in all his trials; let us rejoice in
every instance where we find him  sustaining his
own proper character; let us learn not so much
David's weakness as the weakness of human nature
when we find him faulty.




CHAPTER VII.
SiA UT AND TILE TITCH OF ENYD OR.
TIUE  train of the inspired narrative now leads
us to consider the closing scenes in the life of
Saul. The war between the Philistines and Israel
was at this time renewed with fresh vigour, and
heavy necessities pressed upon the unhappy king.
He had indulged his pride and unbelief and revenge
until God had rejected him and would no more
hear his prayers-until he had driven into exile
not only David, but many of those brave and, in
some cases, pious men who had now joined David,
and who became, in a few years afterward, the chief
warriors in the resistless armies of Judah. Withal,
the troops who remained with Saul had less of the
animated and cheerful spirit which is so needfill to
the success of an army. Saul was deeply discouraged, yet God refused to hear. His neglected duties
testified against him; the slighted worship of God
in the brighter years of his reign was remembered
with anguish, and the blood of the innocent priests
cried out against their murderer. Samuel, upon
whose kind sympathy he could always reckon, was
now numbered with the dead, and Saul begins too
128




SAUL AND THE WITCH,OF ENDOR.   129
late to appreciate the love of the departed prophet.
The unhappy king here exhibits no strange aspects
of our human nature.  Men too frequently find
out the value of their friends after they have lost
them.  It is our too colmlon folly to be wise too
late.
Superstition and religion are two very different
things.  A man may have not a particle of the
true spirit of piety, and may set religious obligations at defiance, and yet be bound in the shackles
of superstition.  Nor is it only the ignorant that
are thus entangled and enslaved.  The truth seems
to be that men of all classes-the wise and the
foolish, the learned and the untaught, the strong:
and the weak-are very nearly on a level whenl
left to the unaided resources of their ownminds for
support in trials.  A profound sense of the weakness of  man in his best estate is a wise attainment:
in human experience.  In the consciousness of a
strong mind, a person once said, "I do not think
there is anything that would drive me mad."  Thewise reply was, "You might as well say there is
no weight which could break your back."*  Man
is a dependent being.  Religion is the wise and.
just support of our weakness.  Superstition is
promnpted by the same sense of dependence, fronm
which no man can free himself, but it is the blind
groping after a miserable support-of a mind that
is too ignorant to find the true God or too wicked.
* Article in Littell's Living Age, July, 1857
9




130             LIFE OF DAVID.
to desire his aid, or, like Saul, rejected of God and
given up to the delusions of wickedness.  Saul
begins now to reap the bitter harvest whose seeds
he has been so long planting.
Given up of God, and now fallen into deep
trouble, Saul was wretched, and he must find sonme
support. in his trials.  The next'scene of his lifb is
a strangoe one in(leed.  The king of Israel seeks
advice and counsel from  a fortune-teller and a
witch.
In all ages and in all lands, not even excepting
the nineteenth century and the Christian land in
which we live, there have been persons professing
acquaintance with the unseen world and the secrets
of the dark future.  Whatever names we give to
those  persons-sorcerers, magicians, astrologers,
wizards, witches or mediums, augurs, soothsayers,
fortune-tellers or necromancers —they are everywhere much alike in the characteristics of their arts.
We need not wonder that men have never very
well understood the subject, for the foundation of
all is niystery, both as to the alleged facts and to
the mode of acquiring a knowledge of them; and
all is addressed to our ignorance.  If a man tells
me. a wild account of the inhabitants of the planet
Jupiter, how they live or what they say, I have
no means of knowing how he acquirted his information on the one hand, nor on the other of' (ecidedly
affirming that not a word of all this is true.  So a
prediction of a future event is palmed off upon




SAUL AND THE WITCH OF ENDOR.   131
those who have no means now of deciding its truth
or falsehood. Tricks, darkness, mystery have ever
belonged to these things, and are alike necessary to
their success and to their power over the minds of
man. This single characteristic is as different as
possible from the openness and simplicity of truth,
which fears no investigation, and which ever aims
not to confound, but to instruct the mind.
The Scriptures have ever forbidden the practice
of these arts and all consulting of those that profess them, and these direct prohibitions are against
the spirit that prompts men to seek for instruction
where true teachings never can be found, as well
as against the wicked arts of those who profess
thus to guide men. Apart from all consideration
of the unlawful means by which men seek to learn
those secret things which belong to the Lord our
God, it is not hard, for a wise man to discern that
the knowledge of the future is wisely kept back
from us, and that it is folly, therefore, for man even
to wish to draw the veil aside. God has made man
to live in ignorance of the events before him, that
lie may be guided by the principles of duty; he
has left us in helplessness, that we may recognize
our dependence upon him.  There is scarcely any
prospect that can open up before us with infallible
certainty without disastrous effects upon our present comforts and our present duties. If we knew
that deep trouble was before us in the future, we
would suffer deeply now in anticipation. Perhaps




132            LIFE OF DAVID.
more than half our troubles are through the fear of
evils which we imagine may come: how  much
nlore would we be depressed by certain sufferings
before us! Such anticipations would unnerve the
arm  for duty and unfit the mind for peace. On
the other hand, were we sure of future prosperity,
our present trials would grow more burdensome
and our present duties insipid.  It is better for us
that we see only one step forward in the journey of
life, and must take that step before we see the next.,
We enjoy our comforts more, we bear our sorrows
better, we are better prepared for all our duties,
since now we ourselves grow up to our circumstances, as the duties of manhood can neither be.
foreseen nor understood nor borne by the child, who
is fitted to know at the same time that he is called
to do them. It is in divine wisdom that the Scriptures even forbid our inquiring into the secrets of
futurity: nor need we think it strange that while
expressly condemning the acts that may be classed
under the general names of sorcery and witchcraft,
these writings make no attempt to describe or define what the thing is beyond this: that witchcraft
purports to be communication with the unseen
world-not through the revelation of God, but by:
finite agency, that of spirits, human or angelic.
There can be no reasonable question that imposition upon the superstition, the weakness, the ignorance and the credulity of man has ever been the
chief element of those arts. Many of the tricks




SAUL AND,'THE WITCH OF ENDOR.   133
of the ancient magicians are now well understood,
and were practised through a knowledge of natural
laws above. the attainments of men in general.
Other things were done by jugglery and sleight of
hand, and we know that an expert juggler can do
many surprising things that are not supernatural.
But we do not deny the possibility that the masters
of these arts (lid at some time receive the aid of
evil spirits in deceiving men. We know too little
of the spiritual world wholly to deny the possibility
of this, and there are some matters of their doings
which find their easiest explanation in supposing
that this may have been so. And when we know
that devils have possessed and tormented the bodies
of men, we need not wonder if they have had other
dealings with the wicked of the earth. Yet many
wise men think that the whole power and success
of these persons is to be referred to imposture, witlout supernatural assistance.  They consider the
language of the Bible, wlhen it speaks of a woman'having a familiar spirit, to refer rather to what she
claimed than to what she really had. In either
case, the Bible is justified in classing these arts
among the most wicked things to be found among
men. If it is possible for any one to have intercourse with evil spirits, and to secure from  them
any information from the unseen world which God
~himself has hidden from us, it is highly wicked to
consult them. If these things are impossible, then
it is exceedingly iniquitous to pretend to a thing




134            LIFE OF DAVID.
that is impossible to be true, and wrong if even
true.  So the immorality of all such things is
plain enough, however obscure is the nature of the
crime.
It is no alleviation of this sin that those who
consult fortune-tellers do it often injest, for no
man should dare to jest in things which God claims
as belonging peculiarly to his prerogative. It does
not help the matter to say that men are sometimes
sincerely persuaded that these things are true.  A
deluded heart is a very common result of wicked
practices, and if men waill venture into known evil
and dangerous temptations, they have no reason to
complain if the divine protection is withdrawn
from them —if they are left to believe the lie they
have tampered with, and( if, after seeking for unlawful knowledge, they are deceived into the belief
of a gross falsehood. Without needing to grasp
after anything unlawful and of questionable truth,
we have all we need for our instruction both for
present duty and for future prospects; but if any
man is not content with these, but seeks after things
which God has kept in his own power, there is no
telling howv far he may go astray or how firmly he
may believe his own delusions.  The Scriptures
teach us thlt all our information of the unseen
world and of future events must be obtained
through divine revelation alone; that God alone
can give such teachings; and that for us to apply
to any others for secrets of this nature is a profane




SAUL AND THE WITCH OF ENDOR.   135
prying into matters which God chooses to conceal,
and it is the idolatrous attributing to other and
inferior beings those characteristics which God
claims as peculiar to himself.  Hence the great
wickedness of claiming to possess such powers,
and every person shares in that wickedness who,
through curiosity or in jest or in seriousness, enlcourcages those who claim to possess them.
It is proper here to remark that in the Bible we
have no such ideas presented upon the subject of
witchcraft as are now commonly attributed to it.
Take the lamentable delusions which' prevailed in
the world and in the Church t)ut a few hundred
years ago, and which led even good men to subject:
suspected witches to torture and death, and their
id(leas are in no case favoured by any scriptural
teachings.  That a witch could transform  herself
or any one else into the shapes of inferior animals,
fly through the air, torture the bodies of others by
some invisible malignity, or make a compact with
the Evil One,-all these are things of which we
read not a single word in the Scriptures. Our conceptions, then, of what the Bible means by witchcraft are not to be shaped by the vulgar ideas of
that sin.
While upon this subject a word may be said
concerning the modern form of witchcraft, known
by the name of Spiritualism.  We need not think
it strange that such a form of delusion should
spring up and spread in an age of light and know



136             LIFE OF DAVID.
ledge like the present, for no amount of scientific'
knowvledge can satisfy the cravings of mlan's st)iritual nature, and human  depravity remaiss in
force in the mbst enlightened communities.  We
need not thinlk it strange that many infidels have
been converted to Spiritualism, and profess, through
its teachings, to believe in God and a future wvorld,
for superstition and skepticism  have been tiwin
sisters in all ages of the world.  Notlhing is more
common than for a depraved mind to reject the
most weighty evidences in favour of the Bible, and
agree to the most frivolous pretensions in favour
of a system  of falsehood; and the conversion of
such men, after all, is no conversion to purity of
character or to devoted usefulness of life.  VWe
need not even wonder that men wvell instructed in
the principles of true piety are found among the
earnest advocates of such a delusion, for in all ages
men have gone out from  us who were not of us,
and in all the experience of-the Church the most
bitter opposers have been nursed in her own bosom;
and because they would not submit to the truth of
the gospel, they have been ready for any delusions
of error.  Two classes of Spiritualists now exist
in this country.. One class professes that all the
teachings of Spiritualism  are consistent with the
Bible, and that Spiritualism  is but a higher fiorm
of Christianity; the other class teaches the barest
infidelity, denounces the pulpit and denies the
Bible.  The whole system  is but a modern form




SAUL AND T'HPE WITCH OF ENDOR.   137
of the ancient witchcraft.  There is the same seeking of information from departed spirits; the same
practices of shunning the light lest the methods of
imposture should be detected; the same tendency
to unhappy results, in the wrecking of minds and
morals, which have ever been found in the spread
of stuch delusions.  Witness the reports of our
lunatic asylums; witness the tendency to licentiousness which has separated so many households.
"Even so every corrupt tree bringethforth evil frujit."
But does it not seem the master-proof of men's
depravity and fondness for a lie that such a system
can prevail?  For if the phenomena are all true,
they are useless.:Not a single new truth has been
pnt forth, and no confidence can be placed in the
teachings of' Spiritualism,, its own strenuous firiends
being judges; for the contradictory teachings of
the spirits compel them  to say that both bad and
good communicate with man, and, as we have no
means of discriminating between them, so we can
acquire no possible knowledge from them. Should
any new truth be even communicated, we dare not
trust the communication, lest it should prove false.
The utter absence of all reasonable evidence that
any of these manifestations rise above the rank of
imposture or delusion, the utter failure to teach the
world any new secret in science or in morals,,and
the entire inutility of the whole system, even when
its claims to truth are admitted, are reasons good
and sufficient for regarding the whole matter as




138             LIFE OF DAVID.
among the lamentable delusions wliich have so
often prevailed among'men.  And if we are to
wonder at anything, it is at the lamentable blindness of the human understanding as darkened and
defiled by sin, and at the deluding influences of the
god of this world, the prince of the power of the
air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of
disobedience.
We may further remark on this sulbject before
proceeding with the narrative. We charge mystery
and darkness and concealment upon all these forms
of' error, and we regard it as the peculiar characteristic of falsehood that it seeks mystery and concealment.  Communications are made in the most uncouth and awkward manner-made in the dark,
and no fair investigation ever examines the phenomena.   So, sorcery,  witchcraft, necromancy,
magic in all ages have been without explanation,
diml and without definition, reminding us of the
terms used by Milton when he attempts to describe
the shape of the monster SIN:
"If shape it might be called, that shape had none
Distinguishable in numiber, joint or limb;
Or substance miglit be called, that shadow seemed,
For each seemed either; black it stood as night."
Now, what we designed to remark is this, that
mysteries in religion are sometimes mentioned as
reasons why men may believe the mysteries of
iniquity.  But let every man fairly-consider that




SAUL AND THE WITCH OF ENDOR.   139
the mysteries of the Bible are in perfect contrast
with the mysteries of sin. They differ in nature
as light differs fiom the blackest darkness.  There
are mysteries in revealed religion, but they are not
mysteries of fact. When the Bible records a miracle, the wonder itself is plain; the spectators all
see it; there is no room for supposing that delusion was practiced in the thing itself, however
wonderful the power that has wrought it. Not a
follower of Moses doubted whether the Red Sea
opened, whether the manna fell day by day, or
Whether the pillar of cloud and fire guided his
marches. Not a Jew that stood by the grave of
Lazarus doubted his death or found any mystery
in the fact of resurrection.  The mysterious doctrines of the Bible, the Trinity, the incarnation,
the decrees of God, the new birth and the resurrection of the.body, are not at all mysteries of fact.
The facts are plainly taught.  They begin to be
mysterious only when we ask, How  are these
things so?  So, a man may -lift his hand and ask,
How does my will move my arm?  So a farmer
mlay stand in his field and ask, How does the grain
I sowed last fall produce this wheat?  There is no
mystery in the facts. But mysteries of iniquity
are mysteries of fact. The priests in the temples
of the Great Mystery of Iniquity profess to change
a wafer into the body of Christ, and it is a mystery,
without a particle of evidence that such a change
has ever occurred. The dealers in magic in every




140'            LIFE OF DAVID.
age use their strange rites, practice incolherent, mut.
terings, and prevent the spectators, as much as
possible, from  seeing what they (lo, for their rnysteries are mysteries of failt. No man under their
influence is allowed to witness fairly whether the
things alleged to occur do or do not occur.  Truth
has no mysteries of fact.  We may ask, How does
the seed grow? and we may get no answer.  But
the fact that it does grow is plain enough.  We
imay ask, How are the hearts of men renewed by
God's holy Spirit? and we are told, The wind
blo.weth where it pleaseth, and the methods of the
Spirit's working are inexplicable, but that he does
work is a fact plain enough. We may ask, I-How
are there three persons in one Godhead? and the
Bible replies not, but the doctrine, as a doctrine, is
plain enough.  We may ask, How did the dead
body of Lazarus revive? and no answer is returned, but the facet of the miracle is as plain as
any other historical fact.  Thle great distinction is,
that trutl hides not her deed(s, though there may
be mysteries in the causes and reasons of them, while
delusion and falsehood are mysteries in their alleged
facts; they love dlarkness rather than light; everythlingc about them  is vague and kept in concealment, and favourable circumstances must be chosen
that their votaries may have any chance of succeeding in thleir efforts to convince others.  The mvsteries of inliqcuity and the mysteries of truth are as
opposite as light and darkness.




SAUL AND TIIE WITCH OF ENDOR.   141
It may be further remarked, upon this general
subject, that no man is bound to refer to a supernatural origin every wonder which he is unable
otherwise to explain. There may be an explanation, and a very simple one, to the strangest plienomenon, but because I lack the explanation I am
not bound to judge that supernatural power produces the wonder. There are many tricks of sleight
of hand that to me are as strange as if Satan
wrought them, yet I am persuaded they are tricks.
If a man had never heard a ventriloquist, he might
wvell be startled at the tricks such a performer can
play.  If the telegraph was a profound secret, we
miglht well attribute to Satanic agency the power
of knowing almost instantly the news of a distant
city, as we know that the first books printed were
ascribed to the devil's agency, for only lie coulld
produce so many so soon and so much alike. The
chief arguments for impostors are ever addressed
to our ignorance; mystery is thrown around them,
and all our attempts to gain information are baffled;
and time is the surest test of truth.  Old and wellestablished principles that have never shunne(l
investigation, that appear stronger the longer
acquaintance wte have with them, and that are of
unquestioned utility, may be firmly held; while
the strange wonders that constantly appear, and
after a brief course die and are lost, without adding one particle to human knowledge or happiness,.may deceive those who wish to be deceived, but are




142             LIFE' OF DAVID.
scarcely worthy of a wise man's wonder, much less
of' a good man's faith.
We return to the narrative.  Saul had formerly
ma(le direct efforts to banish from the land those
whose aid lhe now sought.  " Thou shalt not suffIer a
witch to live," was the express direction of the M0osaic law, and acting upon this the king had put away
this iniquity from Israel.  Yet one of their nulmber,
doubtless practicing her art in the most secret mannler, lived at the village of Endor in the tribe of
Mlanasseh, and this very near thle camp of Saul on
the nountains of Gilboa.  The king, in disguise
and with but two attendants, repaired to her.  It
is quite likely that the woman knew from the first
who her visitor was. iNatural shrewdness, habits
of keen observation carefully cultivated, and a
great facility in reading character are usually found
in such persons; and the unusual danger attending her practices, in Israel would make this woman
fiully on the alert.  Living near the camp at this
time, she knew, it is likely, the distresses of the
king, and t.he unusual stature of Saul among the
people would enable her easily to penetrate throughl
any disguise he could put on.  That she does not
own hler recognition of himn until surprised into it
lnay have been from policy.  She has the caution
to secure her safetvy, so far as her visitor is eoncerned, by exacting of him  a solemn oath before
she proceeds with her incantations.
All the writers of the Bible have this remark



SAUL AND THE WITCH OF ENIDOR.   143
able peculiarity, that they seldom  make any comments upon the events they record.  They state
things as they happened, and their read(ers are left
to judge of them  upon the principles of truth and
rectitude which the Bible gives.  So, for example,
we have the most dispassionate narratives of the
persecutions of Christ and his apostles: there is
not a single burst of indignation in the New Testament against the malicious cruelty of their persecutors.  So upon this page the narrative is given,
but so much is left unexplained that the most various opinions have been formed of the interview
of Saul and the woman of Endor.  We are unable
to decide how far the mere agency of the witch extends, or whether any of the supernatural is to be
attributed to her workings.  Some are disposed to
regard the whole imatter as effected by the mere
machinery of her art, aided by ventriloquism  and
by trained confederates.
But let us consider several points separately.
1st. It seems plain that Samuel did actually'
appear.  It is not, indeed, said expressly that Saul
saw Samuel.  The woman saw him-at least she
declared she -did-and she so described him  that
Saul perceived that it was Samuel. This ambiguity
of the narrator leads many to deny that the prophet appeared at all, and they make the whole matter a deception on the part of the woman.  Nor is
it any real objection to this that the words of the
apparition foretell the truth of Saul's defeat, nor




144            LIFE OF DAVID.
even that they rebuke Saul so solemnly for his sin.
AVhen Saul had so sinned against God; when he
had driven from  him so many of his most valiant
officers and soldiers; when there was so much disaffection.in different parts of the kingdom; when
the army was beaten almost already by the dejection prevalent in the ranks; and when, evidently
upon the eve of a great battle, the very king is
driven to hold this counsel with such a womana, —it
seemed to require no large wisdom  to foretell a
great defeat. and even the utter extermination of
the brave but desperate faimily of Saul.  Nor need
we wonder that Saul's sins were brought before
him, for whatever are the earlier deceits of sin, the
great adversary is ever ready to reproach the guilty
when, they are deeply and hopelessly entangled.
Yet we adopt the view that Samuel did indeed anppear.  So Saul evidently believed: this is the
simplest meaning of the passage, and the entire
address of the prophet is more consonant with his
character and with the vwretched condition of Saul
tllan any counterfeit which such a woman could soO
easily bring forward.
But 2d. Supposing that the venerable prophet dlid
indcleed appear, it becomes a question of grave importance, Was his rising in answer to any invocation on the part of this woman? ~ This question is
usually answered decidedly in the negative.  The
sorcery of this woman did not cause Samuel, to
appear.




SAUL AND THE WITCH OF ENDOR.   145
Tile grounds of this denial are in part doctrinal
and rational.  We have no reason for supposing,
when we have attributed to such a woman the very
highest powers, even in league with the Prince of
Evil, that she would have power to disquiet and
disturb a prophet of God who had already entered
upon his rest. But we may base our denial upon the
terms of the narrative. It is to be especially noted
that nothing is said of her making use of any of
the usual arts of muttering or incantation. Samuel
appears immediately upon the uttering of Saul's
wish to see him,* and the woman seems to be as
much surprised as he, and far more alarmed.  Her
whole language seems to say that this issue of the
matter was wholly unexpected to her.  She had
designed to work as usual, but her imposture is
anticipated by this unlooked-for reality.
3d. We suppose that Samuel was permitted to
appear —that his coming was by divine agency, and
that it had no connection with the arts of this
woman beyond the mere fact that it occurred when
Saul applied to her.  We do not consider this explanation as free from all objection and difficulty,
for we regard the whole scene as one of great obscurity.  But since Saul so earnestly desires an
answer to his inquiries, he is permitted to have the
final teachings of the same prophet whose words
* The word when in v. 12 is not in the original Hebrew.
We are not to suppose that a lapse of time occurs between the
request of Saul and the appearance of Samuel.
10




146            LIFE OF DAVID.
he had so often disregarded, who had already foretold his rejection, and who now declares the early
end of his career and the close of God's long forbearance with hlim.
The whole tenor of the narrative gives the iimpression to every unbiassed reader that Samuel did
indeed appear, and that the apparition was no counterfeit.  If the whole matter seems wonderful and
beyond the ordinary experience of man, we have
but to remember that we know almost nothing of
the spiritual and unseen world, and that things revealed to us are not to be judged by our preconceived( ideas, but by the proofs rather that are
afforded of their real occurrence. We have no
just occasion to doubt the record upon the sacred
pages, though, as we have said, there may be
different methods of understanding  the same
narrative.
Perhaps the chief difficulty of this interpretation, which makes the appearance of Samuel real
and the effect of divine power, is, that it seems to
exhibit God as co-operating with this wretched
woman, and as leaving the impression that her art
could raise the prophet.  But surely the Scriptures
are sufficiently explicit in condemning all arts like
hers, and thus they afford us principles sufficient
to refute any such inferences. And onl the other
hand, why may we not say that the divine power
here invaded Satan's territories, prevented this
wretched woman from imposing upon the king,




SAUL AND THE WITCH OF ENDOR.   147
and buoying him up with false comforts at such an
hour, and thus rebuked hinm in this last great sin?
We have in the case of Balaam and Balak another
instance where vain enchantments were overruled
by divine power, and a false prophecy desired by a
rebel against God gave place to a true prophecy to
the confusion of the sinner. Certainly it is true
that God sometimes meets wicked men in their own
chosen way, prevents them from finding comforts
in the falsehoods they seek after, and shuts them
up to all the grief and remorse that justly belong
to their own iniquity. And certainly we may be
assured that when the guilty soul is rejected of
God, has grieved his Spirit, and draws near the
end of his wretched life, he shall be permitted to
find no true peace. God will not bless him; truth
is no relief, and even his refuges of falsehood will
be vainly sought to hide him or to comfort him.




CHAPTER VIII.
ZII~iLAG SPOILED AND RECO VERED.
TmHE Philistines had now made their preparations for a great battle with Saul. The king
of Gath placed great confidence in David, and resolved to take him with him to the field. We do
not know what David would have done had he
been present in the conflict where Saul fell; nor
does it even become us to decide what he ought to
have done. The truth is, David had here placed
himself in a position of great temptation, and, beyond his calculation, he had become entangled in
the net of his own falsehoods. No man can foresee
how Ihe will come out of temptation when he foolishly ventures in. Happily for us and for David
at this time, the Lord deals not with us even as we
deserve. LIe sometimes delivers us from evil when
we have the least reason to look for his delivering
mercy. This truth we should not abuse to embolden us in evil, yet it may encourage us to
believe that he will help us when we seek his aid.
So says the wise commentator, Matthew Henry:
"God is sometimes found of them that seek him
not, but he is always found of them that seek him."
148




ZIKLAG SPOILED AND RECOVERED.  149
The deliverance of David from the jealousy of his
enemies arises just at the needful time. When the
other leaders of the Philistines saw these Hebrews
in the train of Achish, they were alarmed and
offended. They knew them well, for they had felt
the power of their arms in many a fatal conflict.
They knew not only David, but the mighty men
of his band were their old acquaintances.  Perhaps it was from a knowledge of their defection
firom the armies of Saul that they now hoped for
an easy victory; and they had no idea of giving
them an opportunity of changing sides in the hour
of battle, and thus of reconciling themselves to
Saul. From considerations of honour, since these
men are the friends of Aechish, they made no attempt to attack this small band of Hebrews, nor
to detain them as prisoners deprived of their
weapons. But they persisted in demanding that
Achish should send them away. Achish communicated this determination to David with many
expressions of regret., and David, though really
relieved, yet maintains his arts of dissimulation.
But he took his early departure from the caml),
and a new set of circumstances at Zikliag completely separated him from the final battle of Saul
till the whole matter was decided.
Perhaps in revenge for David's previous invasion, and with a knowledge that he and his men
had left the town defenceless, the Amalekites came
against Ziklag, burned the place, carried off the




150            LIFE OF DAVID.
spoil and made captives of the women and children. That this was wholly unexpected is very
plain from  the conduct of David and his men.
Every man was deeply grieved, and for some reason the whole tide of anger turned directly against
David.  We think it is not hard to judge what the
reason was which turned the displeasure of the
people against him. Ziklag had been left defenceless just because of the unrighteous policy of
David. If he had plainly told the king of Gath
that his friendly relations would not go the length
of any hostilities against Saul, had he let him
know just the truth of his feelings upon the subjeet, it might have offended Achish, but it would'have vindicated David. Neither he nor his men
marched to the camp of the Philistines with any
good design. They should not have gone at all,
and the fault of Ziklag's destruction lay largely at
David's door. It is possible that the -grief of his
people made them disposed to judge more harshly
of their leader than they otherwise would, and we
can make allowance for the distressing circum-,stances in which they were. The destruction of
the city was a light matter compared with the cap-tivity of their children and wives in the hands of a
cruel and revengefill foe.
In this hour of distress and perplexity the mind
of David acts with both prudence and piety. From
this time, indeed, there seems a sudden change in
his conduct.  We have freely censured where we




ZIKLAG SPOILED AND RECOVERED.  151'
thought he should be censured; but from this time
forth, till the one great sin that darkens the later
life of David, we have little reason to speak of
him  in terms of reproach. MIay we not suppose
that the great calamity at Ziklag was the providential chastisement which aroused the slumbering
conscience of the backsliding man of God, and restored his feet to the paths of uprightness: "rIt
is good for mue that I have been afflicted. Before
I was afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept
thy word." Ps. cxix. 71, 67. We have no special
record of David's religious exercises in this time of
affliction save this important expression, "David
encouraged himself in the Lord his God." This
teaches us sufficiently the turning of David's mind
toward religious reflections and to principles and
duties of piety. Although Abiathar had been with
him all along of late, we do not read that he asked
counsel of God at any time after leaving Keilah.
When he fled to the Philistines, when le spoke
falsely to Achish, when he put himself in that
false position in their camp, he acted without asking counsel of God, and he sinned in each case.
But now this trouble has come upon him, and lihe
begins again to ask the Lord's will. He encouraged himself in God. The natural tendency of
affliction is discouraging.  We are cast down, distressed, and if the grief is very heavy we are indisposed to all exertion. This was, perhaps, the
first effect upon David. But it lasted not long.




152            LIFE OF DAVID.
The gracious tendency of affliction in all ages is
encouraging.  We cast our burden upon the Lord,
and he sustains us. Tribulation worketl patience,
and patience experience, and experience hope, and
hope maketh not ashamed. The character of God
and his methods of dealing with his people ever
bid us put our trust in him. So David felt, and
the result justified his reviving faith. God dealt
with him better than either his fears or his deservings. His ways are not as our ways, nor his
thoughts as our thoughts. The destruction of
Ziklalg not only led to David's recovery from a
lamentable condition of backsliding, but it soon
gave David the means of securing at a most important juncture the favour of many in Israel, whose influence was of great use to seat him  upon the
throne.
With as little delay as possible, David now set
out in pursuit of the band which had spoiled
Ziklag, and which held their wives in bondage.
And it is a matter of proper inquiry just here, Had
he any further aid in this pursuit than the aid of
the men whose families were thus in captivity?
From  the  record in 1 Chron. xii. 19-21, we
would judge that he had important aid. The only
objection to understanding the whole passage as referring to this time is that David previously had
six hundred men, and that now, with this increase,
he had but six hundred wherewith to pursue the
foe. This, however, is a very small difficulty,




ZIKLAG SPOILED AND RECOVERED.  153
for we can easily see that it would be wise in
David, if his band was as much as two or three
thousand strong, to choose out the very best for an
expedition that would test the endurance of the
strongest.  From  this entire chapter we  learn
several things that are omitted in the narrative
in First Samuel.  We learn that David's original
band was one of choice strength and courage. We
get a further insight, also, into the desperate state
of Saul's affairs before that final battle.  His soldiers were either disaffected toward him, or so discouraged at the poor prospect of success that they
will not risk the coming strife. So many of them, as
David left the camp of the Philistines, including
several captains of the tribe of Manassah, joined
themselves to him-perhaps taking with them a
portion of their men. After this battle, it would
seem, a large number of the Israelites came to
David, of whom we will have more to say afterward.
It is likely, then, that the six hundred men who
set out with David to overtake the Amalekites
were selected carefillly from a much larger band
which now he had, with him. They began the
expedition under unfavourable circumstances.  It
was at the close of their march from the camp of
the Philistines, and just as they expected to enjoy
the repose of the city, that they were called to fresh
exertions. It took them till the third clay's march
*to reach the city, and these marches homeward had




.154           LIFE OF DAVID.
been made perhaps as rapidly as they could go;
and now they make a march yet more forced and
rapid and long. They were encouraged to this,
however, by divine word. David, in the renewed
exercise of piety, asked counsel of the Lord,
through the priest Abiathar; and his faith was
answered not only by the assurance that he would
overtake and overthrow the enemy, but that he
would surely recover the spoil.  With this assurance they pressed on.  Yet two hundred of
even this chosen band became so weary in the
eager pursuit that he was obliged to leave them
behind. But David made use of even this circurnstance to make the pursuit more earnest and successful. He took the opportunity of lightening
the amount of baggage and arms they carried with
them, and of making these men guard the articles
left. As he desired to take the enemy by surprise
and before they had any intimation of the pursuit,
the decreasing numbers of his men and the lighter
armament would be nothing against his success.
As the band pressed on, they found a young man
in the way who had belonged to the very company
they were now pursuing. He was an Egyptian, a
captive in war, and a slave by the usages of those
tribes. But he had fallen sick, and his master did
not deem it worth his while to carry him with him
upon the march. It may have been from motives
of humanity that David and his men stayed long
enough to revive the stranger, now nearly dead




ZIKLAG SPOILED AN'D RECOVERED.  155
from sickness and starvation, but it is more likely
that it was the wise delay of a commander who
knew the value of definite information to the success of his expedition.
The young man gave him the very tidings he
wished, and, upon the promise of David of his
personal safety and his freedom, he was able to
lead the band on their very route. The number
of the foe exceeded the present number of David's
men, as we learn that a number equal to David's
entire force made their escape from  them. But
neither their number nor the weariness of the attacking party was of any avail.  David's men
were weary, but they were extraordinary warriors,
and they took the foe by surprise. Perhaps, as
they drew near the camp, they halted and waited
the setting of the sun-partly that they might
themselves have a little rest, when now  near
enough to know that the foe could not escape
them, and partly that they might approach close
to the very camp in the growing darkness. They
began the attack at twilight.*  They found the
band carousing upon the great abundance of the
spoil they had taken. Yet it is possible that they
found no easy victory.  The conflict continued
until the next day, but how much of it was a mere
pursuit we cannot decide. The result was not only
the recovery of their wives and children, and of
the spoil of the city, but also the acquisition of a
* Scott suggests the morning twilight.




156            LIFE OF DAVID.
vast variety of spoil yet further, which the marauding party had gathered in other quarters.
Two  matters are to be noted in the distribution
of the spoil:
First, it was decided by David, and made a law
in Israel from that time forward, that even those
soldiers in the army who took no actual part in a
battle should yet share in the spoil. There were
some men in the camp disposed to withhold from
the two hundred men that remained behind at the
brook. Besor any further share of the spoil than
the mere restoration of their families. David, however, decided that as these men were there in the
discharge of their duty, as indeed they were doing
all they could do, and it was from no cowardice
that they were not in the fight, they were justly
entitled to a share in the spoils. In arranging the
details in such matters there may be many practical difficulties. It would not be just for every man
to share alike, and it would not be policy to give
no larger encouragement to those who press into
severer services and encounter greater dangers.
How much ought to be given to a successfill commander and how much to a brave private soldier?
how much does the camp deserve beyond the quiet
garrison? are matters which much wisdom and experience must decide. But the decision of David
in this case does not settle where a man's duty lies,
nor what proportionate reward should be given for
this service or that.  He simply settles this, that




ZIKLAG SPOILED AND RECOVERED.   157
every part of duty deserves its reward. There was
less toil alnd less glory, and perhaps less real service,
done by the two hundred men who remained behind, but they were doing all they could do, and
just the service to which their commander had
appointed them.  The judgment therefore that
would rank them with the idle or the inefficient
would be wholly unjust.  This principle should
govern the world and the Church. It may be
found in human and in divine administration.
Men differ in their conditions, abilities, opportunities and services. Some are in high stations, some
in low. Some are active, some are patient. It is
not always easy to decide who has the hardest service. Beyond all question, either Paul or John
Bunyan would have preferred, if the choice had
been left to them, to labour hard in actually preaching the gospel rather than to lie ingloriously for
years in a prison. Yet they were serving God by
their patience and by doing what his providence
allowed, and they were as faithful in the stocks as
in the pulpit. And many a man has glorified his
God in the only way possible to him by patiently
enduring the afflictions of his hand through long
months of pining sickness; and many have sojourned in a dry and thirsty land and said, " My
soul longeth, yea, even fainteth, for the courts of
the Lord's house;" and many have been kept back
from earnest duties, as we shall soon see David himself, forbidden by the Lord's own command from




158             LIFE OF DAVID.
his desire to build a temple. In all these cases,
and in a thousand others easily imagined, there is
acceptance before God "according to that a man
hath, and not according to that he hath not."  It
is not for us to say that the reward of a minor service will equal the reward of a greater, or that the
desire to do is equivalent to an actual service. But
a man's acceptance depends upon the state of the
heart.  A man may serve God as truly, if not as
largely, in one place as in another.  In the service
of God many ministers are required, as Paul so
felicitously and so beautifully teaches us in his
figure of the body-many members in one body,
and all members having not the same office. Since
God has so many servants, we must expect that
some will be engaged in the less weighty duties.
So Milton beautifully says that the angels who are
waiting for his orders are as truly doing his will
as their more active brethren:
"Thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean,, without restThey also serve who only stand and wait."
Let us but have our hearts right before God; let
no duty remain undone through lack of our disposition; let us carefully watch the indications of his
providence which tell us where we ought to live
and how we ought to labour, and then, doing what
our hands find to do with our might, we shall receive his approving smile and our fitting reward,




ZIKLAG SPOILED AND RECOVERED.  159
whether our lot be "to abide by the stuff" or to
press forward to the fierce and stern conflict.
The second matter in reference to the spoil of the
Amalekites is the share that fell to David, and the
disposal he made of it. A very large portion of
the spoil fell to him; it would almost seem as if lihe
received the entire portion that remained after deducting the booty from Ziklag, which of course his
companions claimed as belonging originally to
them. But it could scarcely be by any equitable
division that David received all this.  It was more
likely given to him for public purposes, and thus
he used it. He kept nothing of it for himself, but
sent liberal presents to various quarters.  It is
likely that he sent part home to the rightful
owners, from whom these Amalekites had taken it.
As the spoil had, in a good degree, come from the
tribe of Judah, and as doubtless there were prisoners enough to tell where it belonged, he laid the
owners under a double obligation to'him by sending home the rescued captives and the stolen property. As a large part had been taken from unknown
owners and from the Philistines, he sent liberal
presents to the chief men of the tribe of Judah,
and was careful not to forget those who had befriended him and his men in the times of their
distress. There was policy, as well as liberality
and justice, in all this. David was nlow approaLching a time of his life when he would need all the
friends he could gather about him. It may be that




160            LIFE OF DAVID.
already he had heard, before actually sending the
presents away fromu  him, of the disastrous battle.of Mount Gilboa, but, at all events, he must judge
that the indications of Providence pointed out an
early fulfilment of the promise of Samuel. The
time approached for David to take the kingdom,
and it was wise in him to make in Judah as many
friends as possible.
But let us turn once again from David to Saul,
and now to behold the last scene of his life. The
battle between Israel and the Philistines was upon
Mount Gilboa.  It wAas possibly a severe strife, for,
if we have had evidence that the army of Israel
was discouraged and disposed to desert the fallen
fortunes of a man forsaken of his God, we yet
judge  that the  leaders were desperate.  Unhappy Saul, we may believe, rushed forward into
the thickest fight. IHe seems to have been made a
special mark for the arrows of the archers.  His
brave sons were not behind their father; and theirs
was a happier lot, as three of them fell at their
posts and upon the field of carnage. With Saul it
occurred otherwise.  Finding that his wounds were
severe, and fearing that they might not result in
death, at least until the enemy had laid their hands
upon him, Saul resolved to anticipate his death.
He called upon his armour-bearer to slay, him.
Th is he very properly refused to do. The despairing king then took his own sword and threw himself upon it, and died there upon the ground.




ZIKLAG SPOILED AND RECOVERED.  161
This kind  of death was esteemed  honourable
among the wise men of pagan antiquity, and a
sage among modern infidels has not scrupled to
apologize for suicide.  But Saul learned not this
lesson from any legitimate source of instruction.
Not a single line upon the pages of the Bible can
b)e found to give countenance to the crime of suicide.  No deed deserves to be thought of with
more horror than this.  For a man to appear by
a moment earlier before the bar of God than he is
bid to come; to stand there fresh from a crime that
in its very nature admits of no repentance; to come
there guilty of so great a crime as the shedding of
his own blood, —this is a thing for which no array
of desperate circumstances can constitute a sufficient apology. Unhappy Saul could not bear to
fall into the hands of the Philistines, yet he gave
poor proof that he was prepared to fall into the
hanlds of the living God. Death is solemn under
any circumstances, but such a death of an unrepentant man is awful indeed to contemplate.
Great was the joy of the Philistines to find the
king and his three sons dead on the field of battle.
His head and his armour were held as trophies;
the tidings spread throughout their cities; the
bodies were ignominiously exposed upon the wall
of Bethshan, and public thanksgivings were rendered to their god Dagon. The inhabitants of
Jabesh-gilead rescued the bones of their honoured
king, in gratitude for his former kindness in de11




162            LIFE OF DAVID.
livering their city. It is rather surprising that we
hear no more of this victory. It seems to have
been very decided, and yet for some reason-perhaps through the terror of David's name on his
accession to the crown of Judah-the victors seem
to have secured very little advantage from it.
On the third day after David's return to Ziklag
came a messenger from the camp announcing the
disastrous defeat and the death of Saul. The unhappy man who brought these tidings was evidently prompted by a desire to secure a large reward from David for the welcome tidings; and
doubtless, knowing the enmity of Saul to David
and the chief cause of it in David's prospects for
the throne, he thought to make his tidings more
welcome and to secure a large reward for himself
by claiming that by his hand Saul had died. It is
probable that this young man —a mere camp-follower in the army of the Philistines-had been
passing over the field immediately after the battle
in search of plunder. He was, perhaps, the first
man who saw the fallen king of Israel. If he had
been content to say this much, and to place in
David's hands the crown of Israel: and the bracelets of Saul, he might justly have expected a reward far beyond the value of the jewels thus
saved from the triumph of the Philistines. But
in the hope of securing a large reward to which
he was not entitled the young man added the untruth that he himself had slain, Saul. But he




ZIKLAG SPOILED AND RECOVERED.  163
uttered this falsehood against his own life. David
had certain proof in the crown and bracelets of
Saul's death; and believing the young man's story
that he had slain him, he felt bound, as the elect
king of the land, to punish this crime. He commanded one of his young men, therefore, to fall
upon the Amalekite and put him to death. The
real crime for which he died was a lie. But this,
of course, David did not know. Sins apparently
trivial often bring the severest punishment upon
their perpetrator.  Of the results of truth and
justice we need not be apprehensive; but when a
man seeks his own advantage by means of a falsehood, he may bear himself the responsibility, and
has but himself to blame if fearful punishment is
substituted by a retributive Providence for the advantage he sought.




CHAPTER  IX.
DA VID'S R1EIGN IN HEBR ONN.
IT  has almost passed into a proverb in man's experience of deep affliction that "'the darkest
hour is just before day."  So frequently is this so
that we may almost learn to rejoice in a heavy weight
of affliction which will be succeeded by a corresponding blessing:
" The clouds we so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on our head."
At least, if we cannot practice faith, we may exercise patience —
"Beware of desperate steps: the darkest day,
Wait till to-morrow, will have passed away."
When David returned to Ziklag and found the
city in ruins and his wives carried into captivity,
he had reached the darkest hour of his trouble
hitherto, and, as we have already suggested, the
farthest point of his own wanderings from duty.
We have intimated that perhaps this time of deepest affliction was the time also of repentance and
of return to God. And now the shadow of persecution and exile passes away, the long night of
164




DAVID'S REIGN IN HEBRON.         165
trial is nearly over, and the morning' of prosperity
begins to dawn. The promise that he should wear
the crown has been long enough addressed to
David's faith; long enough against hope he has
believed in hope; whatever were his other delinquencies, this faith has, in the main, proved to be
awakening, and  now  its fulfilment approaches.
Events preparatory to David's reign now occur
rapidly.
But even after the death of Saul, David does not
come forth boldly to claimn the crown. In regular
succession it did not belong to him, but to a surviving son of the former king; yet he had been
designated to it by divine authority, to which every
man in Israel should have submitted. Accordingly,
after the battle of Gilboa, there was a gradual
gathering of large forces to David, until perhaps
his army was large enough to vindicate by force
his title to the throne. Yet true to the principles
that have thus far actuated him, David made no
movement in this direction, such as would exhibit
undue ambition in him or excite the jealousy of the
various tribes. We can easily discern through all
the history that the tribes felt the influence of sectional interests and of family pride, and a man who
would wisely rule over all must not awaken prejudice nor exhibit partiality. David's first step is to
ask counsel of God, and he was directed not only
to go up now, but told also to go to Hebron, for
there his kingdom was first to be established.




166            LIFE OF DAVID.
At the first, none of the tribes presented themselves at Hebron except his own tribe, the tribe of
Judah.  It may have been that a few persons from
the other tribes were present, but if so, it was in
numbers so small that they could not be justly said
to represent their respective tribes, and David was
anointed king by the tribe of Judah alone. Perhaps this fact gave occasion to subsequent troubles
in the united kingdoms, and made it more easy,
eighty years after this, to effect a final division of
the tribes into two separate nations. The conduct
of David was thoroughly conciliatory. He sent
his thanks to the inhabitants of Jabesh-gilead for
their prompt rescue of the bodies of Saul and his
sons from the insults of the Philistines, and merely
announced to themn that the house of Judah had
anointed him king.
It is likely, however, that a separate kingdom
was set up in the two tribes through the ambition
of the commander-in-chief of Saul's army. Ishbosheth, the son of Saul, who now became king of
the rival kingdom, seems to have been a man of
no force of character, and it is likely that no resistance would have been made by him of his own
accord to the claims of David. But Abner doubtless thought that the reign of David would be the
loss of his authority. The new king would promote to the command of his armies not the general
who had pursued him through the wilderness, but
some of the faithful men who had been his comn



DAVID S REIGN IN HIEBRON.       167
panions and supporters in trial; and perhaps Abner
knew too well the character of Joab to believe
that he would allow a rival like himself in experience and ability to secure a high rank in the armies
of David.  Ishbosheth, the son of Saul, became
the nominal king of the ten tribes, while the general in command of his forces was the real ruler of
the kingdom. But though aware of the true
foundation of the throne in the power of Abner,
David made no effort to resist these designs. He
was faithful to the solemn oath which he had sworn
to Saul that he would not destroy his house (1 Sam.
xxiv. 21), and two years seem to have passed away
without war between the two kingdoms.*  The
Philistines seem *to have remained quiet, without
energy to secure any great advantage from the
battle of Gilboa, and Judah and Israel were at
peace.  And when war did commence, it was not
commenced on David's side, and it was carried
forward by him with great forbearance. Abner
made the invasion, and Joab, the leader of David's
army, went out to meet him.  They met at
Gilboa, and Joab stood upon the defensive in pursuance of David's policy. Abner then proposed a
battle between a picked band of men on each sideperhaps to decide the issue of the war. To this
Joab agreed, and twelve chosen men from each
army advanced to mortal combat. It was a terrible battle, and fatal to the entire number. It
* 2 Sam. ii. 10.




168            LIFE OF DAVID.
would seem as if they advanced without shields,
and each man resolved that his antagonist should
die, whatever became of himself. Each strong
warrior caught his opponent by the beard, and with
each right hand disengaged, struck a sword to his
heart, and twenty-four mighty men fell dead upon
the spot. This battle therefore decided nothing,
for neither party could claim the victory; but a
conflict began inlmmediately between the armies, and
the army of Abner was sorely beaten. The severe
pursuit that followed the defeat was remarkable
chiefly for the death of Asahel, the brother of Joab
and the nephew of David. Asahel was one of
David's mighty men, and specially noted for the
swiftness of his running. In the eager pursuit he
fell upon the track of Abner, and desirous of winning the honour of taking or of slaying the hostile
general, he refused to turn aside, even at the earnest
expostulation of Abner. As Abner desired him
to take the armour of one of the young men, it is
possible that Asahel was lightly armed and prepared rather for rapid motion. But perhaps Abner
meant that the disparity was too great in strength
and skill between a veteran like himself and this
younger warrior. But Asahel, perhaps confident
of victory, disregarded his words, and was slain in
the most unexpected manner by a backhanded
stroke of the experienced captain. We have no
reason to lay the fault of this upon Abner, who
indeed acted generously toward an enemy eagerly




DAVID'S REIGN IN HEBRON.         169
pursuing him; yet the affair furnished a pretext to
the unscrupulous Joab to take the life of Abner
several years afterwatrd. The pursuit in this battle
ended at the expostulation of Abner, and he and
his men marched through the entire night away
from  David's army, while Joab and  his men
marched in a different direction.
The war thus begun was kept up for several
years longer, but no incidents are recorded.  We
are simply told that the advantages all lay with
David, and that the sole strength of Ishbosheth
was in the pomwer of Abner. And the son of Saul
soon learned what a mere shadow of power belonged to him. He had ventured to charge upon
Abner a fault concerning one of the concubines of
Saul.  We have no just reason to believe that
Abner was guilty in the case. He answers the
charge with indign'ation, which may be attributed
to his consciousness that the power was in his
hands, and that the poor tool of a king should not
regard this thing, even if it was true; or it may be
referred to his innocence of the crime. As the
woman here named appears afterward in the narrative in such a manner as to call forth our sympathies for her sorrows as a mother, and our approbation for the strength of her maternal affection
(2 Sam. xxi. 10, 11), it is the verdict of charity
that she was not guilty as here charged by the
nominal king of Israel. But the charge against
Abner betrays the jealousy of Ishboslieth for Ab



170            LIFE OF DAVID.
ner's power. For any man to aspire to marry a
widow or concubine of a deceased king is regarded
in the East as a token of seeking for the throne.
So Solomon put to death his elder brother, Adonijah, because he sought to marry Abishag, the Shunamrnmite. 1 Kings ii. 13-25. But if Abner had
such a design, the king was too weak to resist him,
and now he openly and indignantly declares that
he will use his power to establish the throne of
David.  The very threat of Abner betrays his consciousness that all this time the right belonged to
David. He knew that the Lord had sworn to put
the son of Jesse upon the throne.
And now the commander of the armies of Israel
made proposals to David to secure his reign over
the united tribes. It would have been better if a
result so desirable had been sought for through the
influence of pious principles.  But what is here
sought at the impulse of passion is lost for the
time through the influence of a jealous ambition.
After some preliminaries were settled, especially
the return of David's wife Michal, Abner consulted the elders of Israel and sought their consent
to the deposition of Ishbosheth and the reign of
David.  He then sought for-an interview with
Davidl, and the terms of the covenant were arranged between them. As the whole matter was
defeated, the terms were not carried into effect, and
are not mentioned by the historian.  It is very
likely that, as Ishbosheth was too much in the




DAVID'S REIGN IN HEBRPON.       171
power of Abner, so David began to feel himself
too much in the power of Joab. This man was a
nephew of David, and it is likely near about his
own age. He was a man of tried valour and a
commander of experience and success. From first
to last, though he was commander-in-chief of David's armies for not less than forty years, we have
no account that Joab ever lost a battle or turned
his back on the foe. He seems to have been only
too powerfill for a subject; and the king, though
himself beloved by the people and generally executing his own will, has no power to withstand the
will of Joab, nor even to punish him for his crimes.
As we find long afterward that David intended to
make Amasa the commander-in-chief in the room
of Joab, and Joab treacherously slew his rival as
the easiest way to retain his command, so it is
likely it was here. It is very probable that part
of the terms which David made with Israel provided that Abner should receive the post of commander-in-chief of the allied armies. Joab would
have been inferior to him, and the increase of force
from the ten tribes would have put it out of his
power to make any resistance to the king's will.
Joab had no disposition to submit to this. We
cannot indeed say that it was ungenerous in David
thus to requite the services of Joab, and to give
such an honour to one who had been an enemy,
rather than to one who had stood by him in trying
times. Foi Joab had no right to presume upon




172            LIFE OF DAVID.
his position and to make David feel so much his
dependence upon him. WVhen a man merits the
honours of the State, and wears his honours meekly
and loyally, let them be justly continued with him;ll;
but when any man seeks rather his selfish ends
than the well-being of the government, he puts too
high a value upon his services, let them be what
they may. Joab was absent when Abner came to
HIebron, and throughout the entire conference, but,
returning soon after, was made acquainted with his
coming and return.  He reproached David fbr entertaining him, and especially for sending him away
in peace.  Without the knowledge of the king
he sent messengers after Abner, doubtless with
the pretence that David desired to see him for
some matter that had been overlooked.  Abner
returned to Hebron, and Joab, under professionsof friendship, spoke aside with him, and took the
opportunity to assassinate him. The pretext for
this dastardly act was revenge for the death of his
brother Asahel. But this is no justification for the
deed. The death of Asahel occurred in a time of
war and during the pursuit from a battle, and
Abner had been generous and forbearing toward
him.  And the excuse for slaying him  for his
brother's death was taken away by the very place
in which Joab chose to kill him, for Hebron, where
this deed occurred, was one of the cities of refuge;
and it may be remarked, as an instance of retributive justice, that when Joab was finally put to




DAVID'S REIGN IN HEBRON.         1 73
death, for this very crime, after the lapse of nearly
forty years, he failed to find a sanctuary even in the
tabernacle, but died at the very altar of God. 1
Kings ii. 28-34. They that take the sword shall
perish by the sword, and he who disregards the
refuge divinely appointed shall seek protection in
vain in the late hour of his own distress.
David was deeply distressed and shocked at this
base assassination. The tendency of it was not
only to break off the present negotiations, but to
render it unlikely that the kingdom of Israel would
ever be reconciled to the reign of David, when a
man of Abner's ability and popularity-especially
one that at the very moment was a public ambassador-was thus cruelly murdered almost in the
royal presence. But the whole language and conduct of David in reference to this matter set him
clear not only in the eyes of his own people, but
also before the kingdom of Israel.  Perhaps the
plea of Joab, that he did this to avenge his brother's death, made it nmore difficult under the peculiar laws of the East upon this subject to bring
him to punishment, especially as Joab held a post
of such authority. So David complains that the
sons of Zeruiah were too strong for him, and that
he was weak though anointed king.' But his sense
of the crime may be seen not only from the strong
terms of the curse he pronounced upon Joab, but
even more from the fact that thirty years after this,
when David was about to die, he enjoined on Solo



174            LIFE OF DAVID.
mon the duty of punishing Joab for this and a
similar crime afterward cornmitted.
David made a public funeral for Abner, and
served himself as chief mourner on the occasion.
He even caused Joab and Abishai, with the rest of
the people, to rend their clothes; he composed a
song of lamentation for the occasion, and fasted as
in deep affliction.
And yet it is likely, after all, that Joab's political views in this case were correct, and that the death
of Abner was better for the prosperity of both
kingdoms.  This does not, indeed, justify the
wicked deed of Joab.  But this man is no ordinary
character upon the sacred pages. Joab was a man
of extraordinary abilities-a wise counsellor, a
judicious statesman, a mighty warrior, a successfll
commander, an ardent patriot and a faithful friend.
He stood by David from first to last; and except
one late error, in consenting that Adonijah should
succeed David on the throne, he never stepped
aside from loyalty to his uncle.' David owed much
of the success of his reign to the support of Joab.
And yet these excellent qualities in Joab for a
public officer, which justify David in giving him
the command of his armies for so long a period,
and which explain the influence which Joab had inIsrael, were in striking contrast with serious defects
in Joab's character. If Joab was politic in discerning, he was unscrupulous in executing his plans.
He saw now what mischief Abner might work in




DAVID'S REIGN IN HEBRON.         175
the united kingdom; he saw after this how unwise
it was in David to wish to save the life of Absalomn;
he knew that Amasa was promoted above him  in
the army-the rebel chief defeated promoted over
the head of his conqueror; and Joab had no scruples, on all these occasions, to carry his own purposes
without regard to the feelings of David or to the
-dictates of justice.  In short., Joab was a worldlyminded man, with the wisdom of a statesman, but
the selfishness and cruelty of a wicked mind. It
is the wretchedness of the world that it has too
many such statesmen, and that the success which
often attends unscrupulous plans is regarded as vindicating the wisdom of their adoption. Yet David's
words came true in the case of Joab, and they will
not fail of their fulfilment in every case: "The
Lord will reward the doer of evil according to his
wickedness."  True piety is not always in accordance with worldly wisdoml, but it is real wisdom,
as the end will plainly show.
The death of Abner put an end to the present
design of adding the kingdom of Israel to that of
David, but it is likely that it really made that
event inevitable. Not only had the people of the
ten tribes now, through Abner's influence, acknowledged that the divine will had designated David
for the throne, but it appears that they had before
this "sought for David to be king over them"
(2 Sam. iii. 17), and the ambition and influence of
Abner had chiefly prevented the union of the tribes.




176            LIFE OF DAVID.
The sword of Joab had taken away the chief
agent of discord-had taken away one who might
have been a mischief-mnaker after the union was
formed, and had stricken down the main support
of Ishbosheth's throne. The weakness of the
king of Israel was now apparent. If David had
pursued a vigorous and offensive policy against the
house of Saul, he might now have united the
crowns; but a wiser and more righteous and peaceful policy secured a firmer victory sufficiently soon.
So manifest now was the weakness of the Israelitish king that the men of his own army began to
contrive how they might secure the favour of
David. Two of his captains therefore basely assassinated Ishbosheth and brought his head to
David, expecting to receive a reward for their
wickedness. The event shows how little they understood the character of the righteous king, and
how little they had made themselves acquainted
with his former history. The mind of David was
filled with horror at this cool-blooded deed of
wickedness. If on a former occasion he had put
to death a foreigner and an enemy who boasted
that his sword had slain Saul, he will much rather
put to death these murderers. They were officers
in the army of Ishbosheth; they rose against one
who had done them no wrong, but who was entitled to their obedience; they treacherously slew
him in his own house. The due reward-far otherwise than they had looked for-is quickly given




DAVID S REIGN IN HEBRON.           177
tllem.  They  were speedily executed, and their
hands and feet hung up as warnings for others.
Mfutilation for offences is often mentiond in Eastern
authors, though less in the Bible that in other
Oriental writings. It is remarkable that the English law, even yet, sentences a man to have his
hand cut off who strikes a blow within the limits
of the king's court or in a superior court of justice;*
and even the exporting of live sheep was as late as
the reign of Elizabeth punished with the loss of
tihe left hand.t  The Jewish law forbade that the
bodies of persons executed should be exposed, as
the Philistines exposed Saul and his sons, to the
horror of Israel, one single day being the limit of
exposing the body.  So the members of those murderers were set up as ghastly examples to deter
others from like crimnes.
It is not easy to decide why mention is here
made of MIephibosheth, the lame son of Jonathan.
Perhaps it is to intimate that Ishbosheth was an
usurper even while he held the throne of Israel,
since the regular succession devolved on this descendant of Saul through his eldest son.  But the
succession through the eldest son was not the settled policy of the kingdom. Perhaps it suggests
that the avenger of Ishbosheth was too young to
pursue his murderers. Or, it may be simply to
intimate that the transfer of the kingdom to David
was not for lack of one of Saul's race. But the
* Blackstone's Corn., iv. 125.  t Ibid., iv. 154.
12




178'LIFE OF DAVID.
whole people now judged it better to submit to the
divine indications. David had proved himself
every way worthy of the throne; it was every way
better that the tribes should be united; and it would
have been a great damage to Israel to prefer the
rule of a lame child to the sovereignty of a man
like David.




CHAPTER X.
THE REXST FOUND FOR THEf AR-I.
THE death of Ishbosheth prepared the way for
David's reception as king by all the tribes.
The growing conviction on the part of all the
people that this was the divine appointment seems
to have had great influence in bringing about the
union of the different states of Israel, and especially under this king. In 1 Chron. xii. 23-40 we
have an account of the gathering of the tribal
armies to David at Hebron. A very small number is mentioned of the tribe of Judah. We may
account for this either by supposing that there was
a small body of that tribe that had hitherto adhered to the house of Saul, or by considering that
the tribe, already governed by David, kept rather
aloof from the present solemnities, that they might
not seem to be too active in their king's new
triumph, and that all might appear the voluntary
action of the other tribes. An immense concourse
of people came together; great preparations were
made for a festival; and for three days a joyous
commemoration was had of this happy union of
the entire nation. It was worthy of their joy, for
179




180            LIFE OF DAVID.
it was the beginning of the brightest days of the
Israelitish history.
Being now the king of all the land, having attained at length the honours so long before predicted for him by the prophet Samuel, David
began to meditate wise and enlarged plans for th.e
prosperity of his kingdom. His first project is the
transfer of his capital from Hebron to a more important and stronger position. And now first comes
into prominence upon the sacred pages the most
famous city of human history.  Not excepting the
fame of Rome, we may place Jerusalem  in the
front rank of famous places on the earth.  WVe
first read of this city, as is generally thought,
under the name of Salem, when, in the days of
Abraham, it was governed by Melchizedek. In
the conquest of the land by Joshua the city, by the
name of Jebus, fell to the lot of the tribe of Benjamin, but, being a border town, lying between
that tribe and the tribe of Judah, it either never
was taken from the Jebusites,* or it afterward fell
again into their hands. David now chose this spot
as a suitable site for the chief city of the united
kingdom, and subsequent ages have vindicated the
wisdom of his choice.
From this time forth till the present day, Jerusalem has been one of the chief spots of the earth.
A picture now of the city, as she sits in her decay,
would be of deep yet mournful interest. We would
* Judges i. 21.




REST FOUND FOR THE AIRK.          181
see the minarets of the false prophet towering where
rose the pinnacles of Jehovah's temple; we would
see remains of ancient grandeur, deeply impressive
to teach us what Jerusalem was, yet deeply painful
in the contrast, of what the city is; and as we hear
the screech of the owl and the cry of the jackal
rising above her walls, we might wander among
the forlorn magnificence of her domes and convents
and churches, as a modern traveller expresses himself, "pitying everything and everybody," causing
every street to be to us a " via dolorosa," and preparing us to sit down with her outcast children in
their place of weeping to bewail the degradation of
their holy city. And yet a vivid panorama of the
city of David would be inferior in interest to a
correct conception of her graphic history. Could
we have the scenes, not of space but of time, pass
before us, what various changes, what rejoicings,
what lamentations, what festive celebrations, what
battles of the warrior, what important sieges, what
repeated destructions and restorations would crowd
the canvas! This city was the scene of Solomon's
magnificence; here came the sovereigns of the
world to hear his wisdom; here rose his splendid
temple, the only place for many generations appointed for Jehovah's worship among the sons of
men; here lived some of the most excellent men
of the world's history; and through these streets
passed that most amazing sight that ever met the
eye of man —as amazing for its condescension and




182            LIFE OF DAVID.
love and humility as for the rays of divine splendour that struggled through the veil. Along these
streets passed the form of the Son of God mllade in
the likeness of sinful flesh.  Alas! Jerusalem  has
been as full of woes as of joys, for she has been as
full of crimes as of privileges.  These favoured
streets have " been filled with innocent blood from
one end to the other" (2 Kings xxi. 16), shed from
the veins of their subjects by her own anointed
kings. Here have died by violence so many holy
men and apostles of God that scarcely could a
prophet perish out of Jerusalem.  If the stones
of this city have listened to the voice of Him who
" spake as never man spake," they have witnessed
also his rejection and his cruel death. The priests
of Jerusalem  refiused their Messiah and arraigned
him before a Gentile judge. The Jewish populace
urged his crucifixion.  Along the Dolorous Way
passed that meek and  suffering form, and the
master-crime of the world filled up the cup of
Jerusalem's iniquity.
And what a city of war!  Jerusalem  has again
and again been destroyed.  More obstinate conflicts
have never elsewhere been witnessed than around
her massive walls and beneath her craggy precipices. Surely each conqueror might confess, as the
Roman destroyer of the city did confess, that God
was his help against such fortifications and such
determined resistance.  Yet Jerusalem  has often
fallen. The Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Baby



REST FOUND FOR THE ARK.           183
lonians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Persians, the
Saracens, the Crusaders and the Turks have been
its masters.  No scenes of war have ever better
deserved a graphic description, and in no abodes
of men have been endured greater miseries of
famine and destitution and violence.  Suffice it to
justify our darkest thoughts that the voice of unfailing truth, speaking of Jerusalem's miseries for
Jerusalem's greatest sin, has named  it "great
tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of
the world, nor ever shall be." Matt. xxiv. 21.
The name Jerusalem  signifies the "dwelling of
peace." This is entirely consistent with the tenor
and design of those great doctrines of revealed religion which have had there their centre of origin
and influence.  And to this significancy of name
the prophet Isaiah perhaps refers when he predicts
the future prosperity of the city, " Thine eyes shall
see Jerusalem a great habitation." Isa. xxxiii. 20. It
may be, according to the views of many, that Jerusalem shall be the glorious centre toward which the
eyes of the earthly Church shall look.  It shall be
that the doctrines first taught in the holy city shall
triumph in all the earth. And surely the devotional
interest associated around the past history of the
city is greatly heightened by the transfer of this
name to the holy city of God on high. Jerusalem
is the mother of us all: beautiful for situation, the
joy of all the earth, is Mount Zion. No temple is
there; but apostles, prophets, martyrs and the




18'4           LIFE OF DAVID.
saints of all ages are the worshippers, the Lord
God in the midst of her is her king, and the new
Jerusalem above is an " abode of peace."
In order to establish his capital in this city,
David must first wrest it from the Jebusites.  It
seemed, indeed, a reproach to the tribes that now
for four hundred years so strong a fortress in the
very heart of the land should remain in the power
of the Canaanites. While carrying the terror of
his arms abroad, David should surely not leave
this city unharmed. The Jebusites, confident in
their strength, sent him a challenge, couched in
words quite obscure to us: "that if he did not
take away the blind and the lame he could not take
their city." Some understand this as exhibiting
their confidence in the strength of the place, for
even blind and lame men would suffice for its successful defence. But this explanation does not explain sufficiently satisfactorily how the blind and
lame should be " hated of David's soul."  Others,
therefore, understand by the expression that the
city was under the special protection of some of
the gods of the Jebusites.  It was a very common
thing with the heathen to put their cities and fortresses under special protection, and sometimes to
possess a pledge of this.  So the goddess Minerva
was the patroness or protectress of cities, and the
city of Athens was called by one of her names
(Athen6), and there the Parthenon-a temple to
her-was said to contain a column that had fallen




REST FOUND FOR THE ARK.         1 85
from heaven, and an olive tree, the gift of the goddess to man. So in the city of Troy was a wooden
image of this same goddess which was supposed to
have come down from  heaven. This was called
the Palladium, from Pallas-one of the names of
Mlinerva —and it was believed that Troy was impregnable so long as this image remained in the
citadel. Hence the word palladium is used to signify a bulwark or sa.fe protection. So the great
temple of Diana at Ephesus seems to have contained an image that was believed to have fallen
from Jupiter.
The citadel of Jerusalem while in the hands of
the Jebusites may have contained such an image.
Nor is it any objection that it is here described as
blind and lame, for these very infirmities were assigned to the gods of other nations. Fortune was
represented as blind.  Vulcan was lame.  The
tutelary divinities of the heathen Jerusalem may
have been blind and lame, and as idols they were
abhorred by David. It would stimulate his zeal
that such a city should be so protected in the heart
of a land where the Lord reigned. Yet David
knew the strength of the place, and he held out to
his troops a prize of valour. Displeased at Joab
that he had basely assassinated Abner, he now offered
the chief command of his armies to the man who
first made good his entrance into the garrison and
secured the capture of the city. If this prize was
open to any man in the army, it was no very wise




186            LIFE OF DAVID.
offer on the' part of the king, for a man may he of
unflinching bravery and of a strong- arm and yet
be totally unfit to be a commander.  It is likely
the offer was made to his superior officers; and
Joab himself, stimulated by various motives,
pressed boldly forward and won the city and the
coveted honour. This was doubtless contrary to
David's desire. Yet it may have been greatly for
the better-for the prosperity of his kingdom-for
though Joab was an unscrupulous man, yet he was
a faithful and energetic warrior, and his high capacity was of great advantage to David not a few
times afterward. It is likely that David became
quite reconciled to him after this, though he seems
ever to have feared him more than a king should
fear any subject. But Joab was ever as loyal to
David's interests as a man could be who was as
self-willed as he.
From this time the prosperity of the united
kingdom was apparent. David admired Jerusalem,
and built there a palace for himself by the assistance of the neighbouring king of Tyre. From
this powerful city the Israelites seem to have received some of their arts, and especially in the
reign of Solomon we find the Tyrians affording the
assistance of their skill in building the temple.
David also carried on successful wars with the
Philistines, and the power of the kingdom sensibly
increased.
Perhaps it was early the definite design of David




REST FOUND FOR THE ARRK.          187
to make Jerusalem  the central place of worship
folr the tribes of Israel.  God had long before
promised that: he would choose a place in the promised land, and there the people were to congregate
for his worship (Deut. xii. 5, etc.). Doubtless
such an ecclesiastical capital was desirable for the
spiritual welfare of the people, and indeed necessary to the forms of worship in the Levitical
economy. We are not informed that the divine
will had directed David to this city, but we know
that this city became, in fact, what David designed
to make it. But to carry on his pious purpose, it
was needful that the city should become the resting-place of the ark of God and the residence of
at least the high priest. Arrangements were therefore made to bring up the ark to Jerusalem.
The wanderings of the ark had brought it to
Baale of Judah, elsewhere called in the Scriptures
Kirjath-jearim. There it was placed on the return
from the land of the Philistines, and we have no
positive mention of the ark from that time till this.
It seems implied that the ark was at Nob, since
the shew-bread was there placed before the Lord,
but it is not expressly said that the ark was there.
Now, at least, it is at Kirjath-jearim, and in the
house of the same man where it had then been left
after the judgment on the men of Bethshemesh.
But so long a time had now elapsed that it is likely
Abinadab was dead, and the ark appears to have
been in the custody of his two sons, Uzzah and




188            LIFE OF DAVID.
Ahio. It seems strange, when there was so great a
desire on the part of David and the Israelites to do
honour to the ark, that they did not more carefully
inquire as to the law upon the subject. They seem
to have taken counsel of the Philistines rather than
of Moses. When the Philistines let the ark go,
they had sent it away upon a new cart. Now
David does the same. The ark is placed upon
a new cart. Not the same employed before, for
that had been used to burn up the kine as sacrifices
before the ark. But another cart was now made.
This was a great mistake. It might be tolerated
in Gentiles to lead the ark home so; but Israelites
and their king at their head ought to have known
better. The express law upon the subject was, that
the ark should be borne upon the shoulders of the
Levites, and that no one but a priest was at liberty
to put his hand upon it under pain of death. The
judgment upon the men of Bethshemesh ought to
have called attention to this point. This oversight
had a fatal termination. As the oxen shook the
ark, Uzzah put forth his hand to steady it, and the
Lord smote him, and he died for his error. We
are not told that Uzzah was even a Levite. Whether
he was or not, it was not his place to touch the
ark. He may have sinned ignorantly, but lihe
ought to have known the law. To sin in ignorance
of the divine requirement by no means implies innocence, nor secures exemption from the divine displeasure. God judges men indeed according to the




REST FOUND FOR THE ARK.         189
light they have. But no man can shut his eyes to
the light which God has shed around him, and then
claim that he ought to be judged by the same rule
as if he had been born blind. God gives us laws,
requiring in the most reasonable manner that we
should make ourselves acquainted with them, and
they who are too negligent to do this may justly
be held responsible for guilt that is only the greater
for their neglect. Should a man in a land where
the gospel is preached yet lose his soul and say
truly that he knew not the way of salvation? This
plea on the one hand would not prevent his condemnation before God, and on the other hand its
just force would be to increase his sin and to aggravate his doom. Uzzah died before the Lord, for
he presumed to put forth his hand to steady the
ark without inquiring how God had directed that
the ark should be treated. It was his place, before assuming such a duty, to know how to discharge it. A man is as truly bound to learn the
duties of his station as he is bound to discharge
those duties, and no man can be excused for ignorance of religious principles and religious duties in
a land where the abounding of religious privileges
makes such ignorance not a misfortune, but a crime.
He cannot escape who neglects the great salvation.
When we see the record of such a case as Uzzah,
stricken dead before God for such an act as this,
though we have no reason to impute to him any
other than upright intentions, we may well say,




190            LIFE OF DAVID.
with the smitten people of Bethshemesh, " Who is
able to stand before the holy Lord God?"
And let us learn that there is a presumption in,
ignorance of which we do well to beware. There
are important limitations to the excuse when a
man sins ignorantly. He who knew no better in
a thousand instances should have known better.
Men readily learn according to their full opportunities in all cases where their hearts are truly and
deeply interested. Our ignorance, then, in such
cases, betrays how far the heart is wrong. It was
now seventy years-as some suppose —since the ark
had been first placed in the house of Abinadab.,
His son Uzzah had been long familiar with it.
Perhaps through all his life its sacred presence had
blessed his father's dwelling; he ought to have
known the divine cautions respecting its treatment,
and he could scarcely have been ignorant of the
judgment which had caused the ark to be carried
to his father's house. And surely it is a plain
inference from these thoughts that if any man has
been familiar in his own father's house from his
childhood with the worship of God, and the great
book of his law and God's gospel, it is but the
proof of sinfulness and the aggravation of his
guilt to say that he is ignorant of his duty. If
the very presence of the ark should have urged
Uzzah to inquire the will of God concerning it,
surely the possession of the Bible and the inestimable privilege of being taught of God upon the




REST FOUND FOR THE ARK           191
most important topics, and in reference to our own
eternal life, should lead us to diligent exertions to
know what God has here revealed. It would certainly seem that all ignorance of scriptural teachings in a land like this is inexcusablle, and that
all sins through ignorance may justly be regarded
as sins of presumption, aggravated rather than
extenuated by an ignorance which itself argues
illdifference to divine instructions and recklessness
to the sinner's own immortal interests.  It is a
sinful thing that so many men have but a small acquaintance with the teachings of the Bible, and that
such should perish in their wilful ignorance is a
result we may reasonably anticipate.
From these thoughts the transition is easy to
remark that sins against well-known and acknowledged duties are of yet more flagrant wickedness.
While wilful ignorance aggravates rather than extenuates sin, yet it does not furnish the highest
degree of aggravated iniquity. We regard it as no
excuse for a physician that he ignorantly administers a poison instead of a medicine, since it was his
place to know the drug before he gave it. Yet,
though we judge him guilty in such a case, and
regard his act the more criminal because his very
ignorance was a wrong, it must be confessed at
once that his wilful prescription of a poison immensely swells the enormity of his guilt. Even
so judge we of the man who wilfully disregards
and tramples upon the gospel of Christ, well




192            LIFE OF DAVID.
knowing its truth and his duty respecting it. The
crime of Uzzah is light, the sin of neglecting the
great salvation is small, if compared with his sin
who turns deliberately away from convictions that
have pierced his soul, from duties that have burdened his conscience and from mercies that have
l)een somewhat impressed upon his heart. Sin has
its various degrees. The wise man would not wish
to bear its lightest burden. We ought gladly to
receive those assurances of the divine word which
teach us that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth
us from all sin. But unhappy is he who is ignorant of the gospel while yet its teachings are all
around him; and most wretched indeed is that
man who knows the provisions of the gospel, yet
fights against them; knows the truth of the Scriptures, yet opposes their influence; knows the excellency of this salvation, and yet remains a rebel
against God and an enemy to the cross of Christ.
The awful death of Uzzah put an immediate stop
to the progress of the ark. The music ceased and
the immense multitude trembled, perhaps with apprehension that the judgment of Bethshemesh was
about to be repeated. The feelings of David on
this occasion were not as they should have been.
Perhaps we too seldom reflect upon the mingled
feelings of our worship before God. In some respects we may feel right; we are inflamed with
zeal for God; we desire his glory; we would be
filled with joy at the manifestations of his presence.




REST FOUND FOR THE ARKt.          193
Yet we may indulge self- complacency in our
earnest doings, or murmur against God if things
turn not out as we wish.  We are here told that:
David was displeased at the death of Uzzah, at the:
same time that he was greatly afraid of God. But
he was to learn that God will be worshipped in an
orderly manner and  according  to his own directions. Perhaps it was the more important that
such a lesson should be just now impressed, because
a new era was beginning in Israel.  He was transferring the ark to the central city, where the people
were to assemble for regular worship, and the nations should learn at the outset the true methods
of divine service. But David did not immediately
understand the  lesson there  taught.  He was.
afraid to go on with his designs, and he turned
aside and deposited the ark in the house of Obededom. We are expressly told that this Obed-edom
was a Levite and a porter. It was his place to:
keep the door of the tabernacle where the ark was
deposited. It is likely therefore that the error of
the proceedings which had issued in the death of
Uzzah  was immediately discovered.  But they
were afraid to go on now, and they deposited the
sacred charge in the house of this Levite.
It seemed an awful deposit for any man's private dwelling. When this ark abode in the tabernacle, it rested in the Most Holy Place (Ex. xxvi.
31, etc.; Heb. ix. 3, 4), behind the significant veil,
and no mortal eye dare behold it, save the eye of
13




194            LIFE OF DAVID.
the trembling high priest who came once every
year, after offering solemn propitiatory services, and
moved his censer in the presence of God (see Lev.
xvi. 2, 34; Heb. ix.). It was a solemn thing for
the great congregation of Israel to stand around
the tabernacle and offer their prayers while the
high priest drew aside the veil and appeared before
the mercy-seat. And now it seems more solemn
unspeakably that this venerated ark should rest
beneath the humble roof of a Levite. Yet we
never know our God aright until we understand that
in him meet the extremes of dignity and condescension. He is greatly to be feared and tenderly
to be loved; he allows no presumption, he encourages holy boldness; the proud may tremble before
him, but the humble may rejoice. Uzzah. died before the Lord, but Obed-edoin and his house are blessed with the presence of the ark. While ignorant
and presumptuous sinners may well tremble, humility and obedience and faith have nothing to fear,
but may hope for good at the hand of the Lord.
And though it does seem a solemn thing to have
the dwelling-place of the Lord God in the abode
of a private family-though we may feel like adopting the language of the Roman centurion, " Lord,
I am unworthy that thou shouldst come under my
roof"-yet there is a sense in which the ark of God
abides in the house of many an Obed-edom; and it
is a truth most delightful, in the rich experience of
believers, that where the ark abides the blessing of




REST FOUND FOR THE ARK.          195
the living God is also there. There is a worship
of God in the families of his people that may
properly be likened to the abiding of the ark in the
house of' a humble Levite. God promises specially to the dispensation to which we belong a
protection, not visible, but as real as the guiding
pillar which led Israel through the pathless desert;
and this not for his Church alone, but for each
family in Zion. "The Lord will create upon every
dwelling-place of Mount Zion, and upon all her
assemblies, a cloud and smoke by day and the
shining of a flaming fire by night." Isa. iv. 5. In
our age we have the veil rent, the throne of grace
accessible, and we are encouraged to come boldly
there. The ark of God needs now nlo visible symbol of its presence, but we should bid it welcome
to our abodes. Our God is the God of the families
of the earth, and he should be worshipped in our
families. The altar should be set up, and the offering of prayer and praise should, morning and evening, ascend upon it. How little do those parents
feel the proper sense of their responsibilities who
neglect the duties of family devotion! How far
wrong is he who regards these duties as a responsibility too heavy for him to bear! For the responsibility of his neglect is a far weightier burden,
and we are able to bear our duties only as we earnestly endeavour to meet them. But the blessing
upon the house of the Levite should remind us
that the worship of God in the family is a rich




196-           LIFE OF DAVID.
blessing upon the household. We are not told in
what respect it was that Obed-edom was blessed, but
evidently it was with such favour from. God that
in the short space of three months it was well
known to all around that the ark was a treasure
there. And to have God's worship in our dwellings is a rich blessing to all. No parent can engage in the duties of God's service without receiving in himself a rich reward. His own character
must be benefited by the humble and serious devotion which thus sanctifies every day. It seems a
thing most unlikely indeed, if not quite impossible, that any man can sit down in a serious manner to read daily in his family a portion of God's
word, and to offer up his prayers for the divine
favour, without becoming himself better acquainted
with the truth of God, and without feeling the influence of such exercises to make him a more consistent and holy man. Equally obvious are the
influences of such services upon the training of the
children in the family. As the most important
agencies to mould the character operate almost insensibly, as growth is gradual, so we may expect
to teach the young the principles and duties of
piety most successfully when we bring those matters most constantly before them. If experience
is a proper witness in a case like this, it is easy to
know that those who have most carefully maintained the duties of family religion are the most
disposed to consider it an inestimable privilege, and




REST FOUND FOR THE ARK.         197
the most ready to acknowledge that by it God has
blessed their households.
The interval of these months had sufficed to
convince David of his folly in being displeased,
and to show where the fault had really been; and
the tidings that God had blessed the house of Obededom reassure him that God is willing to bless.
Arrangements are now therefore made to remove
the ark to Jerusalem.  A place is prepared for
it, and a tent pitched for its accommodation. The
just rule of God's worship is now acknowledged,
and while David says that "the Lord our God
made a breach upon us, for that we sought him not
after the due order" (1 Chron. xv. 13), he says
also, " None ought to carry the ark of God but the
Levites." 1 Chron. xv. 2. The Levites, therefore,
are commanded to sanctify themselves; a great assembly of the people is called to the solemnity; a
choir of singers and performers upon musical instruments express the joy of the people; and
solemn sacrifices are offered as the ark passes forth
for its resting-place on Mount Zion. The use of
instrumental music is nowhere enjoined in the laws
of Moses, except the use of trumpets, which were
employed to call their assemblies together, and
were sounded over their solemn sacrifices. Num.
x. 2, 10. But instrumental music was used before
the giving of the law as well as after, and the
Psalms abound in exhortations to praise God by
the use of such. The objection that in the New




198            LIFE OF DAVID.
Testament no such worship is enjoined is of no
force, when we consider that usage and not law
sanctioned their use in the ancient Church, and
that the New Testament contains no rebuke of a
kind of worship which then was unquestionably
common usage. The Psalm used specially upon
this occasion is not found entire in the Book of
Psalms, though similar sentiments occur in several
of the Psalms. We may judge, fromn the usual
practice of David, that it is lawful for us to express our devotions before God in psalms or hymns
that are written expressly for the occasions that call
them forth. There seems no more impropriety for
those who are able so to do to compose sacred songs
for our occasions than to make our prayers suit the
times when they are offered.
In these solemn services David took a deep interest. Indeed, it is likely that upon that glad day was
accomplished a long-cherished wish of his heart.
In the one hundred and thirty-second Psalm we
are told that David had long vowed that he would
provide a dwelling-place for the Lord. In Ephratah, in Bethlehem, in his early years, it had been a
grief to the young shepherd that so little store had
been set by the holy symbol of the Jewish faith.
When Samuel first anointed him for the kingdom,
his youthful imagination had been formed to royal
designs, and prominent among them was the honour
of the ark; and in the midst of his afflictions his
vow was to give himself no rest till he had found




REST FOUND FOR THE ARK.          199
a habitation for the Lord. The ark was at Kirjath-jearim, which name signifies the Forest City.
So the Psalm declares, " We found it in the fields
of the wood."  With all his heart the king of Israel joined in the glad celebration of that eventful
day. He girded himself with a linen ephod and
danced before the Lord, and joined his voice in the
songs of the sons of Levi. And indeed it was a
day more worthy of a triumph than the usual celebrations of mighty kings. Many a feast such as
David made that day to all the people, many such
a procession, with instruments of string music, has
been made in honour of cruel conquerors whose
fierce ambition has desolated happy homes and devastated flourishing kingdoms. Let David set an.
example to the kings of the earth; his triumphal
day is for the worship of the Lord of hosts established in his capital, and he knows no larger blessing for his people than the maintenance of pure
and spiritual worship among them.
Carnal minds think not so; and here we have
renewed reason to contrast the new king with the
old. Unhappily, too faithful to the principles of
her father's house, Michal, the daughter of Saul
and the wife of David, looked forth from her window, and in her heart despised her husband for his
zeal for the Lord. Better for her, better for her
father and better for the kingdom had the same
zeal been shown in Israel for fifty years now past.




CHAPTER XI.
)DA XID'S _DESI'RE TO B UILD TIRE TEMPLE.
THE throne of David is now firmly established,
and there is already a great contrast between
the state of the kingdom as he received it and as
he now possessed it. Under Saul the feebleness of
the State exposed it to constant attacks from the
nations around, and at his death all was distraction
and discord. Now the entire tribes have been led
to acknowledge David; he stands in high favour
with all the people; his enemies have learned to
fear and respect him; the boundaries of the kingdom have been enlarged; and his fame has gone
abroad to distant countries. 1 Chron. xiv. 17. The
natural tendency of such a government ever is the
prosperity of the people-a prosperity which showvs
itself in the improvement of property, in a greater
care to increase the products of the land, to build
more valuable dwellings and public buildings and
to promote the moral and religious advancement of
the people. In a land where the government is
feeble, where the people are oppressed and where
hostile invasions are liable to sweep suddenly away
the hard-earned firuits of honest labour, there is but
200




DESIRES TO BUILD THE TEMPLE.   201
little encouragement for that earnest industry which,
by the daily care-of a busy population, clothes the
fields in waving harvests, adorns the smiling landscapes with the cheerful-looking abodes of a thriving husbandry, and enlivens the highways with the
voices of the children as they pass to and fro from
happy parents to diligent teachers.  When the
chief employment of a people is to fight the cheerless battles of self-defence against a superior invader, where their chief buildings are the strong
walls that defend a half-starved population in their
miserable towns, and where their jealous ruler employs his energies chiefly to oppress his most faithful subjects, there is little encouragement for the
industry and toil which bless a land and its people.  And the ancient description of Israel too
well applies till the very times of David: "The
highways were unoccupied, the travellers walked
through byways, the villages ceased." Judges v.
6, 7.
David was a man of war, but his wars were
foreign and successful. The people not only dwelt
securely at home, but, as was usual in the ancient
wars, the chief burden of sustaining the troops fell
upon those whom they attacked. The kingdom of
David was enriched, not impoverished, by his warlike policy. The citizens had ample protection for
person and property; and this is the chief thing
needful to national prosperity.  An industrious
people, with a fertile land'and the blessing of




202            LIFE OF DAVID.
Providence, will soon possess abundant resources,
and rise in comforts and wealth and power, if
wrong and oppression are not allowed to crush
them. The kingdom of Israel, from this time forward for sixty years, enjoyed its days of palmniest
prosperity.
An important element of David's prosperity
must be sought for in the attention paid to religious matters by the king and people. This unquestionable truth appears in the history of that people:
that they had the largest measure of prosperity
when they were most mindful of their duty to
their covenant God. We have seen that it was in
pursuance of a plan long cherished, and in fulfilment of a vow long before made, that the king had
now found a settled habitation for the ark of God.
And now that this much is accomplished, the king
is desirous of going yet further. The most important enterprises of our lives are not, perhaps, in
most cases, the result of plans deliberately and
fully weighed at the outset, but we set out with.
smaller matters and are gradually led on to larger,
beyond all we had designed. This is indeed the
case with what men accomplish, both of evil and
of good. In evil, men think not of going so far,
but the mind becomes reconciled to thoughts which
at first awaken fear and horror, and before he is.
aware of his progress many a sinner is hopelessly
entangled, and perhaps in the very sins which once
his soul loathed.. In good,.an earnest heart devises




DESIRES TO BUILD THE TEMPLE.   203
more and more liberal things, finds new opportunities opening up beyond what he had contemplated,
and easily effects results which, with less experience,
lhe would have thought visionary. Successful enterprise encourages more comprehensive plans and
more extended efforts. The evident smile of Providence upon David's rebuilding of the tabernacle
suggests that it is his duty and his privilege to
promote yet more the honour of religion, and a
pious heart prompts him to care at least as much
for an abode for the ark as for a dwelling for
himself.
Hitherto the Israelites had been an agricultural
people, and had paid but little attention to art and
science. Of late, however, David had been led Ato
cultivate friendly relations with the neighbouring
city of Tyre.  This celebrated city of antiquity
was already renowned for its arts and commerce,
and it was greatly in the interest of that people to
cultivate friendly intercourse with the Israelites.
Not only is the large commerce of any city best
promoted by the maintenance of peace, but a seaport without much adjoining territory would wish
to draw supplies from the inland States that lay
near it. So we find that both David and Solomon
kept up a brisk trade with the kings of Tyre. On
the one hand, the Tyrians furnished timber and
other building materials and workmen, and the
Israelites paid them back in the produce of the
country, especially in olive oil and wheat. Such




204            LIFE OF DAVID.
was Solomon's agreement with Hiram. 1 IKings v.
10, 11.
David by the aid of the Syrians had now built
for himself a palace of the cedars of Lebanon.
But the ark of God dwelt still in the tabernacle.
We can scarcely think it was the same built by
Moses, which would now be over four hundred years
old, but it was probably made according to the same
directions given to Moses. Such an arrangement
was suited to the wandering condition of the tribes
and of the ark, but now it gave way to a more
permanent abode. David first mentions this matter to the prophet Nathan, and he, highly pleased
with the thought, supposes that it would be according to the divine will, and encourages him to go
forward. But we learn in this instance that the
inspiration of the ancient prophets was not a continual but an occasional and official influence resting upon them. As the apostles of Christ appear
to have put forth miraculous powers only on certain
occasions, so here we find Nathan giving utterance
to sentiments which he is afterward bidden to recall. Doubtless the prophet thought that the proposition of David was one so plainly for the honour
of' religion that he might readily encourage himr to
go forward. Yet he was mistaken in the case.
Let us be jealous even of the plans we form to do
good, that they may lawfully be made to accord
with that written Word which is our sole and perfect rule. In not a few things men decide accord



DESIRES TO BUILD THE TEMPLE.   205
ing to their own ideas of what may please God,
and yet he is pleased only when we seek direction
from him.
That same night came the word of the Lord to
lNathan declaring that David should not be allowed
to build the house he proposed for the worship of
God. But the refusal is one that gives due credit
to the upright and pious nature of the king, and it
is not based upon the impropriety of the thing
itself which he proposed. It arises from the incongruity that appears between the usual engagements of David as a man of war and the erection
of a temple in honour of God. It is one thing to
justify the terrible work of war; this we may
sometimes do. It is quite another thing to look
upon the engagements of war as desirable in themselves, or as tending by any legitimate influence to
promote the honour of God or the good of man.
Results of the most desirable character have been
secured to men by the violence of war, but it is
deeply to be regretted that the same results could
not be reached by better means. War and fighting
come of men's lusts. There is great wrong somewhere whenever they occur-perhaps usually on
both sides-and the burden of war is heavy, and
the mischiefs of war are great, and the crimes
springing from it are numerous, even in cases where
we most fully justify its undertaking and most
largely rejoice in that which it accomplishes. War
is a temporary return to barbarism, though it is




206             LIFE OF DAVID.
often the deep ploughshare that breaks up the land
in preparation for a valuable harvest.- David's
wars were justifiable. He found the tribes in a
wretched and feeble condition, on every hand exposed to insult from the nations around, and scarcely
enjoying a few years of relief from time to time,
purchased rather through their poverty, which presented few inducements to tempt (an invader, than
through their strength, that held cupidity in check.
From this condition of division and weakness and
poverty, the tribes of Israel, ruled by the wise and
strong  hand of David, soon rose to prosperity and
strength. No fault is found with David for these
patriotic efforts. They were the noble discharge
of his duty.  And yet his was an undesirable task.
He must needs be a man of blood if he would
raise his people from the dust. True, indeed, the
trade of war was not his chosen avocation in preference to other paths of honour and duty.  The stirring trumpet was less his choice than the devotional strains of the soothing harp. In the camp
he mourned that he was exiled from the. courts of
the Lord; and through all the clash of warfare he
looked anxiously forward to the time when the
ark of God should have a settled abode in the
land.  Yet with all these vindicating  thoughts
the engagements of David were not consonant with
the service of a holy God; therefore he must not
build the temple, the abode of peace. God said
to him," Thou shalt not build an house for my




DESIRES TO BUILD THE TEMPLE.   207
name, because thou ]last been a man of war and
hast shed blood." 1 Chron. xxviii. 3.
It is an obvious reflection here that the piety of
David appears more eminent from these very circumstances. That amidst so many temptations he
kept his straightforward course-that he could
maintain his devotional spirit while surrounded by
so many uncongenial things, excites our admiration. Yet the formation and development of the
human character present many curious problems,
and in considering these things carefully we must
adjust and reconcile circumstances of various teildency.  The best characters are seldom  formed
without the stern mingling in their experience of
adverse influences. We might think that the best
method of making a scholar is to place a lad at his
books from an early age, and let him pass upward
through the best schools and under the influence
of the most thorough teachers; and so have been
furnished some of the most profound scholars of
the world, and the advantages of books and schools
and wise teachers no man should willingly forego
who desires a cultivated mind. And yet some of
the most profound thinkers of the world, some
men who have exerted wise and beneficent influences, have reached their eminence of fame and
strength without these early advantages. In view
of this, there are many who undervalue a training
in schools, and contend that self-education is the
only way in which to make a man. The truth




208            LIFE OF DAVID.
seems rather to be this-that no man ever can be a
scholar without self-education.  The best schools
and tile best teachers will waste their advantages
where the scholars are dunces or sluggards. Many
an energetic man, without such advantages, will
push his way upward to knowledge and influence,
yet this very man is not the one to despise the advantages he would gladly have used if he had but
possessed them; and no one can say how much
easier his toils would have been or how much higher
his position with these aids. Every man that is ever
educated must educate himself, must learn to exercise the powers of his own mind —for this is education-and must master knowledge by his own
thinking. Every man that rises in the world must
rise by his own exertions, or, if providential circumstances put him forward among men in an
elevated and influential position, he must maintain
it by the propriety of his own conduct there. No
position can be maintained respectably, no claims
will be allowed by the gazing world, unless they
deserve to be. The true problem for us to solve is
to mingle in just proportions, and wisely adapt to
our education, the advantages and the disadvantages of study, the prosperous and the adverse
influences.  We may learn a lesson from the flying
of a boy's kite. The wind that drives it from him
is needful to make it rise, yet it would not ride in
the air without the string which he holds in his
hand. The two forces are necessary to success, and




DESIRES TO BUILD THE TEMIPLE.    209
when they are nicely balanced the sport is complete.  Too much stress upon the kite will break
the string; too much force used upon the string
will draw down the kite.  Wise education, intellectual or moral, is the nice balancing of forces.
The scholar must have difficulties to overcome
which will call forth his powers; yet if the obstacles are too great for his strength, hIe will become
discouraged.  Teach men so plainly that they (lo.not need to think, and you have overshot the mark;
yet teachings incomlprehensible are an error in the
other extreme.  The education of no soldier, of no
mechanic, of no engineer is complete without a
practical experience of the rough and hard work
that belongs to their respective occupations.  The
wise mingling of theory and practice, of study in.
the house and of' conflict in the field, of leading
them  by the hand and of teaching them  to go
alone, is needful to their successful training.  The
deep foundation of David's piety was laid in his
father's famlily and in the seclusion of shepherdlife on the plains of Bethlehem, and the trials of a
busy life afterward but seemed to complete a training thus carefiully begun.  Yet how many, in like
circumstances with David, would have failed in his
severe trials! If many rise in spite of serious obstacles, many also fail in spite of great advantages;
and success is never achieved except by those who
earnestly contend  for it.  Advantages help an
earnest man to secure larger success, but he de14




210            LIFE OF DAVID.
serves praise who successfully contends with the
most adverse circumstances.  It is greatly to the
credit of David that, in the weariness of exile and
iln the stern ferocity of a warlike life, he still maintained his religious views and his pious character.
And though it is true that now he was forbidden
to build the house for God, it is also true that the
denial of his desire affords no evidence of the
divine displeasure.
That God was well pleased with the desire of
David to build him a temple is plain from the message borne to him by the prophet Nathan, assuring
him of the establishment of his throne and family
for ever. From the tenor of David's reply we may
believe that he understood the promises of God to
refer to the establishment of his family through the
coming Messiah.  It is not easy to determine how
far forward some of these ancient believers were
allowed to look, and how much they really comprehended of the coming Redeemer.  David humbly confesses that his house was not known in
Israel, yet God had exalted him and had spoken
of his family for a great time to come. From this
time forward, doubtless, it was understood that
through David the Messiah was to descend.
Several important wars are recorded after this,
but we will not tarry to speak much of them.  His
wars with the various nations around were successfully carried on by the energy and skill of Joab,
and the boundaries of the kingdom were enlarged




DESIRES TO BUILD THE TEMPLE.   211
according to the promises made to Abraham (Gen.
xv. 18), from  the Euphrates to the Mediterranean
Sea and from Lebanon to the Arabian Gulf. Some
of the victories were splendid indeed, and some
were stained with cruelty toward the conquered.
All wars are cruel, but some, from the spirit of the
age or people where they occur, and some from the
spirit of retaliation, are peculiarly marked with
severities.  WVe learn from  other passages of the
Scriptures that some of Joab's severities, at least,
were retaliatory for some of the worst outrages
committed upon the Israelites. (See Amos i. 3, 13.)
The names of the nations thus contended with successfully, and some of them laid under tribute, show
the growing power of the kingdom. An insult
shortly after this offered to David's ambassadors
gave rise to a new war with a people hitherto
friendly, and against them and their allies David
was still successful. This war may give us a large
idea of David's resources. The Ammonites paid an
immense amount of money to secure the aid of the
Syrians with a large force of chariots. With great
skill Joab prevented the union of the allied armies,'and beat the larger while his brother attacked and
routed the less formidable portion. The Syrians,
chagrined at this defeat, assembled another army
and made an invasion.which David met in person,
and the enemy was again overthrown with the loss
of his commanding officer and nearly fifty thousand men. This decisive victory forced them to




212            LIFE OF DAVID.
lake a peace in which the interests-of their allies
were disregarded, and the Ammonites were left to
bear the weight of a war provoked by their own
folly, and made ruinous by their own acts of cruelty.
David now stands before us on the highest point
of his earthly greatness. We shall hear of him
next a sinner against God and a rebel against his
own peace. " Call no man happy until the day of
his death," said one of the ancient wise men. But
we will only so far anticipate the sad history of his
fall as to remind ourselves of our need of watchingr
and prayerfulness lest we enter into temptation.
Let us learn our weakness. We are safe only when
we trust in God, keep our hearts with diligence,
avoid temptation  and  humbly keep his ways.
Even Christians are not safe from sin if they flee
not from temptation. God made a covenant with
David, yet how soon he falls!  Watch and pray.
But well may they fear who have entered into no
covenant with the Lord. If God's friends may
fall into sin, his enemies may fall into perdition.
It is interesting to notice that the immense
spoils won by David in his wars were dedicated to
the erection of the future temple, and they constituted no inconsiderable portion of the resources
which enabled Solomon to erect so magnificent a
house. The expenditure of modern wars is so immense that perhaps no war is ever carried on now
with pecuniary profit to the conqueror.




CHAPTER XII.
THUE LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.
L ET us now stay a little season to make a brief
review which will revive our recollection of
the earlier scenes of David's history, before we
pass on to the latter and more painful portion of
his life. In a later book of the history it is said
that the Lord was with Jehoshaphat because he
walked in the first ways of his father David —referring to one of David's descendants, a good and
a great king of Judah, and commending his character. We design now simply to take notice of
the contrast that is thus implied between the earlier and the later periods of David's life. We are
pained to read this implication against the good
king's character, and especially we lament the evil
that chiefly caused the change. We have many
reasons for loving this sweet Psalmist of Israel.
In his language we have addressed our praises to
God; with him we have longed for access to the
courts of the Lord; with him we have lifted our
eyes to the hills of our help. We have clothed the
burdened petitions of our hearts in the humble
words of his penitence; we have wept in the sym.213




214            LIFE OF DAVID.
patlhy of his mobrning spirit with our sorrows; we
have followed his Shepherd, Jehovah Jesus, in the
green pastures beside the quiet waters; we have
longed for the guidance and protection of his rod
and staff in the shaded valley of the deep-rolling
Jordan. We love the sweet singer of Israel; we
lament that there should be any sad change in the
course of his upright history; and yet we feel
bound to investigate the matters of contrast which
are suggested between his earlier and his later
days.
We have seen the origin of David. We found
him first upon the sacred page a shepherd boy;
kingly neither in his appearance nor in his stature;
held in low esteem by his brethren, and even by
his father, yet approved by the Lord, who searcheth
the heart, and preferred before his brethren for the
anointing oil of the venerable prophet.
These first days of David we have characterized
as times of serious reflection and devotion, and
they may remind us how the young should improve their early favourable opportunities for
pious thought. It is true, indeed, there are no
situations and no periods of life when a pious
mind may not find some opportunities to enjoy
religious privileges and to strengthen pious fbelings. The worship of God cannot be shut out
from a religious mind by external persecutions; it
will not be forgotten amidst the heaviest pressure
of other duties, and its support is most needed in




LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.           215
the severest temptations. The busiest life will yet
afford the earnest believer its stated occasions for
serious meditation and prayer.  In the midst of a
heathen court, burdened with the cares of a mighty
empire and embarrassed by the interested intrigues
of unscrupulous foes, Daniel neglected not, three
times a day, his devotions before God. A mind
truly engaged to serve God will find its time to do
so. Yet favourable opportunities are of great value
to form devotional habits and to give enjoyment in
devotional duties. It is very plain that the earlier
opportunities of life are generally less disturbed by
care, and that the occupations of some men afford
times and advantages peculiarly favourable fbr
serious thought.  Thus favourably situated was
David during his life as a shepherd. Alone for
days, and sometimes for sleepless nights, on the
plains of Bethlehem, his flocks feeding or reposing
around him, his harp by his side and perhaps the
inspired roll of Israel's covenant-the record of
God's loving kindness-in his hand, David had
abundant time and occasion for serious devotionfor meditation upon the works and word of God.
These were the days of David's early and advancing piety-of happy enjoyment, of glowing love,
of simple dependence, of modest humility. These
were his duties when he learned to strike so sweetly
the chords of his soothing harp; these were times
of delight to his soul as he meditated in the nightwatches.  In those early avocations he learned




216            LIFE OF DAVID.
that' child-like'dependence upon God which first
strengthened the shepherd's arm  against the lion
and the bear to rescue the lambs of his flock, and
next sent the stripling forth with sling and stone
against the proud giant of Gath who dared to defy
the armies of the living God.
We have also followed David in his first ways
beyond the shepherd's lowly place.  We have seen
him a rising military leader in the camp of Israel,
the object of the people's pride and affection, of the
king's malice and jealousy.  We have found him
still prudent, meek and faithfill; and the record
still is, "David behaved himself wisely in all his
ways, and the Lord was with him."  We see the
evidences of grace in his affectionate attachment to
his friend Jonathan. We have here a model of
pious friendship; and let those who would study
the self-sacrificing principles of a true attachment
observe the friendship of those two young noblemen of Israel's ancient times. The display of disinterested feeling seems greater on the part of the
soin of Saul, but the son of Jesse exhibits an amiability of temper, a strength of character, a nobleness of purpose and a settled piety well justifying
the love of Jonathan. To the credit of David, he
never forgot his attachment to his early firiend.
He mourned in pathetic strains his premature
death, and maintained through life the only surviving child of Jonathan.
We have walked on yet farther inl these first




LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.           2i17
ways of David. We have followed him amidst the
persecutions of Saul, and have seen him pursued
from  place to place, "as a partridge upon the
mountains."  We have had occasion to censure him
for sins, alas! too common in the age to which he
belonged; yet we have had reason also to rejoice
that in the trials so severe he maintained so much
of the spirit of piety. The better, indeed, we understand the entire circumstances, the better will
we appreciate the general uprightness of his conduct, notwithstanding his delinquencies. This was
a period of severe affliction. Let the aggravations
of Saul's station, conduct and character, be considered in contrast with the station occupied by the
son of Jesse and the line of conduct he pursued.
Saul had every reason to be grateful to one who
had so signally delivered his kingdom, but his
heart became bitter through that very triumph and
the rejoicing of a grateful people on account of it.
The next day after Goliath's death he aimed a javelin with his royal hand at Israel's champion; he
proposed to David an alliance by marriage, but designed a snare for his destruction.  He endeavoured
to stir up his son and his servants against the husband of his daughter; again he aimed a dart at
his life; at a midnight hour he sent to apprehend
him in his bed; when he escaped he sent messengers after him, and in his impatient rage so far forgot his royal dignity as to proceed in person after
the fugitive; in his anger he slew eighty-five of the




218            LIFE OF DAVID.
Lord's priests and massacred a whole city because
one man had innocent]y, and out of regard to the
king's own honour, furnished food and arms to the
flying David. He went forth with his armies to
encamp through several campaigns, in the mountains and in the wilderness, against a faithful
servant, an affectionate son-in-law. But during all
this time we have seen in David an admirable
spirit of loyalty, of piety and of forbearance toward
Saul. When he avoided the javelin of the king;
when he escaped from his bed; when his wife was
given to another husband; when he was forced
into a mournful exile from the altars of God, and
*even compelled to act the madman among the Philistines; when he was burdened by the injustice of
all these things; when his soul was burning as it
must have burned with indignation for the ruthless
massacre of the consecrated priests,-still the pious
David remnembered to whom vengeance belonged.
When Saul was in his power in the cave, though
his followers urged him to kill him, yet his eye
spared him; when he visited him in his camp at
midnight, and stood over the couch of his sleeping
enemy, still he would not strike him. He was
ready at any moment for a reconciliation with Saulready to lift his hand for a contest with Israel's
enemies. With a forgiving spirit that is above all
praise he not only slew the man who boasted of
slaying the king, but he wept over the grave of
Saul and joined his name with the brave and pious




LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.           219
Jonathan, But the bare mention of circumstances
as we have noticed them does not bring the whole
case before us. We are to remember that Saul for
his unworthiness and wickedness deserved to die;
that all this time he was a king actually rejected of
God; that David was the favourite of the people,
and that long before this the prophet Samuel by
divine direction had anointed himn for the throne;
and then let us better appreciate the piety of
David's first ways, and his complete loyalty to his
rejected sovereign. It has been alleged by some
that when the prophet Elisha predicted to Hazael
that he would one day wear the crown of Syria, he
suggested to him a temptation that cost the life of
his lord. But the wickedness of Hazael's heart,
even if this was so, stands in strong contrast with
the piety of David. David, too, had the promise
of a crown; God himself had chosen him, and
God's prophet had poured upon him the holy oil
of anointing; but notwithstanding the promise
and the anointing, notwithstanding his deep personal and unprovoked injuries and provocations,
notwithstanding the worthlessness of Saul and his
actual rejection-when Saul was in his power, when
he could so plausibly plead that he had smitten
him in self-defence-still he would not kill him,
he would not put forth his hand against the Lord's
anointed; and he refused to touch the crown that
was to be his until the Lord God himself, who had
promised it to him, should, by his own providence,




220            LIFE OF DAVID.
by his own means and in his own time, place it
upon his brow.
These are a part of the first ways of David as
we have heretofore traced them. They exhibit in
him amiable, excellent and pious traits of character.  Here we see humility and dignity; forbearance and forgiveness amidst unprovoked injuries
and insults; good returned for evil; patriotism in
exile; devotion when afar from the sanctuary; patience and submission to the slow movings of Divine
Providence; and, at the foundation of all, a firm,
intelligent, steadfast faith in God.  By faith in
God's promises David knew that his crown and
life were safe.
But after the brief review of David's earlier
days, we have come again to that portion of his
history which forms the turning-point between
these and the latter time of his life. The inspired
historian has hinted to us that the first period of
his life is commendable before the latter; and now
we turn the leaf of history that divides the record
of the first from the last days of David the king,
and how is the page blotted with the stains of
crime and bedewed and blistered with the tears of
penitential remorse! WTe see David here the king
of God's Israel; the tribes are all united around
one throne; the flourishing capital stands in the
heart of the nation; he is mighty in the power of
his arms and strong in the affections of his people;
his enemies are cut off; his name is enrolled among




LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.            221
the great ones of the earth, and he dwells in a
palace of cedars. From the height of his honours
he descends to the most lamentable depths of shame.
Shall we need to dwell upon the particulars-as
full of grief and sorrow as they are of shame and
disgrace? Well known is the history of his departure from the paths of rectitude; and it is easy
to discern how aggravated was his iniquity in
every deliberative, progressive  step.  We may
take up, and with more poignant sorrow, the language of his lamentation on Gilboa: "How  are
the mighty fallen!"  What a lesson of human depravity-how instructive in the deceitfill, ensnaring, advancing nature of sin-does the case of
David afford! Truly, "lust, when it is conceived,
bringeth forth sin; and sin, when it is finished,
bringeth forth death."  We need not go over the
events as they are here recorded, for there are
things of which it is a shame to speak, and the
reproof of them  even is difficult. But with emotions of grief and shame, and for deep and serious
profit, it is well worth our while to trace the steps
of his transgression, to mark the slighter beginnings, the insidious advances, the increasing power
and the awful results of sin. David fell, as our
first mother fell before him, by looking upon transgression.  He shows here none of the piety of his
days of shepherd-life or the times of his persecution by Saul. Mark the steps of sin.  First, lust;
then, adultery;. then, a plot of deliberate dissim.n




222            LIFE OF DAVID.
ulation; and this failing to impose upon the man
he had injured, he pursues still his scheme of wickedness, even to the death of a brave and faithful
servant. One would think that there were circulmstances here to repress and restrain the wickedness
of David. This man, Uriah, was a Hittite. He
was a converted heathen who had sought refuge
from the pollutions of the Gentile world in the
privileges and purity of God's chosen people; he
is numbered among the mighty men of David's
army (2 Sam. xxiii. 39); his pious feelings were
plainly shown when called by the king to Jerusalem; and they did not cease to control him even
when he was made drunk by the king's deceitful
courtesy. Perhaps the conduct of Uriah did pierce
the guilty conscience of David, but depravity was
master in that heart now, and every obstacle to his
desires seemed but to provoke him to more heinous
sin. He made Uriah the bearer of a treacherous
letter against his own life; he made the unscrupulous Joab, who well understood the sin of David,
and was ready to draw from it his own advantages,
the agent of his murderous plan; he was satisfied
only when this sagacious accomplice announced,
with  fiendish  triumph  at seeing David  now
brought down to his own level, that this brave,
faithful and pious officer had been left to perish by
the hand of the enemy; he impiously dared to
ascribe his death, through the casualties of war, to
the providence of God; and hardly had the earth




LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.          223
drunk up Uriah's blood and cried to God for vengeance, before he took as his wife the guilty woman
whose husband he had murdered. And how slad
indeed is the contrast between the first and the last
ways of David, when we must add that, with all
this guilt, he kept silent for weeks and months!
God was displeased, but David was not penitent.
Let no reproach be cast upon the word of God
that it contains a record like this. If such conduct
was here approved, then, indeed, would reproach,
deep and indelible, be justly laid here. But no
human language can aggravate more the exceeding
guilt of David than the forcible and pathetic
words of divine dictation in the parable of Nathan,
the prophet. It calls up before the guilty king his
own case, that he may unconsciously pass judgment
upon himself. It reminds him that beyond his
deserving, the goodness of God had exalted him
from a lowly estate to the most eminent honours
of earth, that he had given him everything he
could reasonably desire, and that in the path of
duty and holiness he was willing to grant him yet
larger blessings. Yet he had indulged this guilty
passion, and had followed it out to those shocking
consequences, at the expense of honour, of kingly
duty, of gratitude and of conscience. Here is the
simple record:
"But the thing that David had done had displeased the Lord. And the Lord sent Nathan
unto David. And he came unto him and said




224            LIFE OF DAVID.
unto him: There were two men in one city; the
one rich and the other poor. The rich man had
exceeding many flocks and herds, but the poor man
had nothing save one little eqwe Iamb, which he had
bought and nourished up; and it grew up together
with him  and with his children; it did eat of his
own meat and drink of his own cup, and lay inll
his bosom and was unto him as a daughter. And
there came a traveller unto the rich man, and lie
spared to take of his own flock and of his own
herd to dress for the wayfaring man that was come
unto him; but took the poor man's lamb and
dressed it for the man that was come to him." 2
Sam. xi. 27; xii.1, 4.
Well might David pronounce this judgment
upon such wickedness, even his own-H-e had NO
PITY.
In this flagitious conduct of David we discern
the workings of sense, not of faith; we see not the
new man, but he carnal nature; not grace, but sin
triumphant. Yet we are not to suppose that all
this was without consciousness of guilt, without
strugglings of conscience, without feelings of remorse. He concealed his feelings during this season of dreadful impenitence, but when afterward
brought to the confession of them, he acknowledges
his constant unhappiness; that he was restless and
feverish in his guilt, and that day and night the
heavy hand of God seemed pressing him  to the
dust. See Psalms xxxii., xxxix. These inward




LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.            225
struggles, so distressing, yet so resolutely repressed,
do but aggravate his sin. If ever a man walked
in any path of evil with his eyes wide open, knowing whither his steps tended, so did David walk
when he forsook his first vways to walk in the broad
road of deliberate and flagrant transgression.
Wire have thus entered upon the contrast suggested by the inspired writer at a later period, between the first ways of David and this great sin of
a later time. But this contrast would not be full
should we fail to anticipate to some degree the following history, and show in his subsequent life
some of the consequences of his guilt.
God freely forgives the penitent.  "Whoso confesseth and forsaketh his sins shall find mercy," is
the substance of the gracious promises from the
beginning of the Church of God. Yet it is not
uncommon for men to misunderstand the bearing
of God's forgiveness upon their present character
and their subsequent experience. It becomes us,
therefore, to ponder the true teachings of God's
holy Word, and to compare them with their explanation in the actual dealings of his grace and
his providence, that we may learn the real influence of forgiveness under the covenant of redemption.  We are told in express terms that the
repenting sinner is forgiven and reconciled to God;
that his sils are remembered no more against him;
that "there is therefore now no condemnation to
them that are in Christ Jesus;" and that the eternal




226            LIFE OF DAVID.
life of the penitent is sure.  Yet it is of supreme
importance that a sin-fobrgiving God should be still
seen abhorring iniquity; and we learn from abundant teachings, both in the Bible and out of it, that
the pardon of sin yet leaves upon the sinner many
evil results of sin, and does not interfere with the
ordinary operations of God's providential laws.
In no just sense does grace make void the law.
We do not regard these results, under the covenant
of grace, as penal judgments, yet we see they come
even upon a forgiven offender. If they come now
as a condemnatory sentence, this would be in conflict with the granted pardon. But they come as
natural results of a violated law, which, for reasons
of infinite wisdom, the justification of the sinner
does not interfere to prevent. See the teachings of
the Scripture on this interesting topic.  WVe are
told of the wicked king Manasseh that the Lord
heard his prayer, and answered his penitence by
forgiveness, and restored him to his kingdom; and
Manasseh is doubtless now a trophy of redeeming
grace before the throne of the Lamb. Yet many
mischiefs remained in his kingdom notwithstanding his forgiveness; and long after his death we
find~ in the inspired record this solemn teaching:
"He filled Jerusalem with innocent blood, which
the Lord would not pardon." 2 Kings xxiv. 4.
This is an impressive warning that the awful consequences of sin are not stayed by the transgressor's sorrow. And the same lesson is taught us on




LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.          227
every hand by the providence of God.  The
drunkard can by repentance improve the future,
but no reformation can repair the past mischiefs of
life. The murderer cannot by any repentance bring
back to life the victim of his violence. These may
personally become interested in the blessings of salvation, but the terms of the covenant of redemption
refer chiefly to spiritual advantage, and reach not
so far as to remove those natural consequences of
their sins in this life
See how these principles are illustrated in the
case of David. Immediately upon his candid and
humble confession of his iniquity the reproving
prophet assured him, "The Lord also hath put
away thy sin." The pardon was free upon tile
repentance. But how much remained behind of
serious evil to David's heart and David's house!
That pardon had no efficacy to wipe away the reproach he had brought upon religion; it could not
recall his sin; it gave not purity to Bathsheba nor
life to Uriah. And we may well consider the long
catalogue of sorrows which this sin brought upon
him in his after history, to vindicate the divine abhorrence of sin, and to forbid that man should ever
venture upon transgression because pardoning grace
abounds. The death of the child that was born
to him; the incestuous violation of his daughter
Tamar by her brother Amnon; the murder of that
son by another son fotr it; the treason and incest
and death of Absalom; the rebellion of Sheba; the




228            LIFE OF DAVID.
terrible pestilence that destroyed no less than seventy thousand of his people; the treason and subsequent death of Adonijah, —all these evils sprang
up in his house and in his kingdom, and all these
saddened and embittered the latter days of David
as a man and as a monarch, as a husband and as a
father.
And corresponding with these sore chastisements
upon his lamentable sin, we think we can discern
an evident difference between the earlier and the
later Psalms of the royal singer. We may regard
the Psalms as recording his religious experience,
and as therefore exhibiting his feelings at the time
when each was penned. We think in his elder
days there are fewer protestations of sincerity, a
growing acquaintance with the corruptions of his
heart, and deeper and more humble confessions of
indwelling sin. We contrast especially the Psalm
penned when he was delivered from the hand of all
his enemies and from the hand of Saul,* and the
Psalms which record his repentance for this~ later
sin. The earlier Psalm  says: "I have kept the
ways of the Lord, and have not wickedly departed
from my God, for all his judgments were before
me; and I did not put away his statutes from me:
I was also upright before him, and I kept myself
from  mine iniquity.  Therefore hath the Lord
* 2 Sam. vii. 1 may justly be thought to fix the date of Psalm
xviii. Its record (2 Sam. xxii.) is no disproof of this. "All
his enemies," occurs in both places.




LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.          229
recompensed me according to my righteousness;
according to the cleanness of my hands in his eyesight." Ps. xviii. 21-24. But hear his later complaints: "When I kept silence my bones waxed
old through my roaring all the day long: for day
and night thy hand was heavy upon me; my
moisture was turned into the drought of summer."
Ps. xxxii. 3, 4. "0 Lord, rebuke me not in thy
wrath, neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure.
There is no soundness in my flesh because of thine
anger. I am troubled; I am bowed down greatly;
I go mourning all the day long." Ps. xxxviii. 1,
3, 6. "Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity
and cleanse me from my sin, for I acknowledge my
transgression and my sin is ever before me." Ps.
li. 2, 3. And hear the pitiable complaint of the
heartbroken old man: "Cast me not off in the
time of old age.  O God, be not far from  me.
Now also, when I am  old and gray-headed, O
God, forsake me not.'k Ps. lxxi. 9, 12, 18.
But the thoughts that have now engaged our attention may conclude with some further practical
reflections:
1st. We may learn from the subject thus presented that it is impossible for us to foresee our
temptations in life, or to know their influence upon
US.
Every age, each sex, every condition in life has
its peculiar temptations. The temptations of childhood differ from the temptations of youth and man



230            LIFE OF DAVID.
hood, and these from the temptations of age. Poverty and riches, station and subordination, prosperity and affliction, have their respective trials, and a
change from one to the other presents new scenes,
new companions, new tests of principle. In the
plain paths of poverty you may walk safely, but
on the giddy heights of wealth your pride may
have a fall.  In the humble valley of private life
you may be contented, useful and safe; but upon
the elevated places of official dignity you may find
occasions of murmuring and sin. The grand truth
to be impressed upon our minds,.to awaken our
constant watchfulness, to deepen our constant hu-.mility, to call forth our ardent prayers, is the truth
of our deep depravity.  "The heart is deceitful
above all things and desperately wicked."  "He
that trusteth to his own heart is a fool."  However
sadly we may judge, he is not a wise man who
judges harshly of David.  However sad we may
feel at the tidings of human guilt every day brought
to our ears, let us neither be astonished nor censorious. Learn from these things that deep depravity
of nature that we also share. You or I might do
things like these unsustained by divine grace and
under plausible and deceitful temptations.  This is
the concurrent testimony of those who best know
their own hearts-who have most closely watched
its ten(lencies and its depravity. W5atch and pray
lest ye enter into temptation. Watch against the
beginnings of evil, for'no one can tell how long it




LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.          231
may increase. Pray earnestly for guiding and restraining grace. But for God's restraining mercy
your sins might now be greater in number and
more aggravated in character than they are.  Lean
constantly upon God. Learn your weakness, and
keep yourself humble by reflecting that in the
changes of life before you there may be many distressing temptations which now you do not dream
of. Every morning we go forth to unknown duties'
and unexpected events; and every morning should
bear witness to one earnest prayer, in His language
who knew so well what our petitions should ask:
"Lead us not into temptation."
2d. The peculiar form of our present meditations
suggests this inquiry: Are there not some of us
who do not live so near to God as once we did!
It may be true with many of us that our first
ways have been our best ways. This is so with
every unconverted man. The tendency of sin is to
grow worse, to get stronger power over the soul, and
to harden the heart to this increase. Some of you
are not so easily impressed by solemn truth as
once you were; your desires for good are feebler,
and your salvation is less likely the longer you live
unreconciled to God. But perhaps the lamentation
may suit professedly pious men. Such cannot indeed truly say, if they are truly converted, that
they have not improved upon their days of impenitence. But some mourn for the earlier days of
their religious experience. They say, "We are




232             LIFE OF DAVID.
farther from God now than we have been; farther
from him in sweet enjoyment, in lively affection, in
zealous obedience.  We mourn with Job, " Oh
that I were as in months past!" xxix. 2. True,
indeed, many a Christian can soberly decide that
his later days are days of clearer knowledge, of
more intelligent faith and firmer and more decided
principle.  Yet manay look back and with just reason deplore the difference between the present and
the past.  Because nmany  "have left their first
love" we see feeble evidences of zeal and affection
and faith.  We hear lamentations of coldness and
desertion.  The hymn of the melancholy poet is a
favourite known by rote by almost every Christian"Oh for a closer walk with God."
Is it not evidence against our piety that it suits us
so often to sing,
"Where is the blessedness I knew
When first I saw the Lord?"
Let it not be said, as explaining these things, that
it is natural for Christians to decline from their
first love. Such a charge is libellous to the gospel.
In strength of principle, in zeal and knowledge, in
love and communion, in obedience and faith, we
ought ever to advance. Our faith should grow
brighter and brighter. Our history should fulfil
the petitions so often appropriately offered for those
that are advancing in life-" May the last days be
the best days!" Grace ought to grow stronger and




LATTER WAYS OF DAVID.          233
stronger, and nature weaker and weaker. "I know
thy works and charity and service and faith, and
thy patience and thy works, and the last to be emore
than the first," said the Lord to the Church at
Thyatira. Rev. ii. 19.  Christian brethren! our
motives to zeal and love and obedience are every
day stronger than ever, and it is sinful to decline
from the faith. If you judge that you are declininlg,
beware lest a day of temptation draw near; lest
your life be embittered like David's; lest you bring
reproach upon religion. Awake, thou that sleepest.
Our salvation is nearer than when we believed.
Let us take up the resolution which the prophet
predicts for Zion: "' I will go and return to my first
husband, for then it was better for me than it is now."
And may the Lord allure his people and speak
comfortably to them, and give them a song of hope
and cause them to sing as in the days -of youth.
Finally: "If the righteous scarcely be saved,
where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?"
If good men suffer and decline thus; if their
remaining corruptions sometimes overwhelm themn
in evil, what may be the just apprehensions of
unconverted men?  Impenitent sinner! your first
ways were better than the present.  I do not
know  how  far you may go, neither can you
foretell. You have done already things you
never intended to do, and you may do more and
worse.  You are progressing in apostasy from
God. Your habits of sin are perhaps slowly and




234            LIFE OF DAVID.
imperceptibly  but surely becoming  inveterate.
You are adding sin to sin, and every day you have
increasing reason to fear that iniquity will be your
ruin. You may flatter yourself that this can never
be, but many a flatterer has fallen beyond his fears.
You may say with Hazael, " Is thy servant a dog?"
but you had better pray, " Keep back thy servant
from presumptuous sins."  Neglect not these warnings of God's holy word upon the presumptuous
confidence that they do not suit your case. But
now —ere you go forward to the unknown temptations of your future days; before you are deeply and
hopelessly entangled in the snares of sin; before
God withdraws his mercy-even now, repent and
believe. Acknowledge your sinfulness, flee to the
pardoning blood of Jesus, rely upon the restraining,
reclaiming and supporting grace of God, and go
forth to encounter the trials, the temptations, the
duties of life in his fear. We are safe in duty, we
are safe in temptation, only when we rely upon his
grace and obey his commands. He promises his
aid to those that trust in him. As your days are,
so shall your strength be. God is faithful to make
a way to escape from the temptation. So believing
and so living, your last ways shall be your best
ways, your last days your best days, and a final
entrance shall be abundantly ministered to you
into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.




CHAPTER  XI 1I-,
TH.E SIN AND PENVITE.NCE 0O' DA,_VID.
THE fifty-first Psalm is the most remarkable
of the PENITENTIAII PSALMS (vi., xxxii.,
xxxviii., li., lxxvii., cii., cxxx., cxliii.). Penitent
hearts have pondered its words, penitent lips have
repeated them, and any man who truly sympathizes with its teachings is ready to recognize every
demand of God's law, and thankful for every merciful provision of the gospel. To place together
the history and the Psalm is to interpret these
humble confessions of sin by the occasion that
called them forth, and we understand the penitence
in the history of the transgression.
We have here a lamentable period of the life of
David, but one eminently profitable. In all ages
since, David's great transgression has filled the
hearts of the friends and the foes' of piety with
various emotions of reproach and grief; and we
can easily judge that the sensation produced
throughout the kingdom of David was very great
when facts like these became known; especially
among the true-hearted lovers of God it was like
the panic in a frightened army when a standard235




236            LIFE OF DAVID.
bearer falls, or when in the height of successful
battle the white plume of a beloved leader is trampled in the dust. The parties concerned were too
prominent and too well known, the guilt of the
chief actor was too inexcusable and too gross, the
evils too nearly concerned the well-being of society,
to allow these events to occur without excitement.
Even wicked men, who might do such deeds, start
back from them as done by others, and especially
as done by those who have been esteemed for their
virtues. This serious offence was the first public
cause of reproach against DIavid.  Hitherto his
public career had been wise and exemplary; the
kingdom had been only'prosperous under him; his
people were warmly attached to him; and his character for uprightness was well established.  Such
a fall from such an elevation was shocking and
widely seen; the surprising conduct of no man in
the nation would awaken more public attention.
He was the king; he sat upon the throne because
he feared God, after Saul had been rejected for rebellion; he was the sweet singer of Israel; he was
beloved by the righteous; he was even respected
by the wicked.  The other parties were not insignificant.  Uriah was one of the mighty men in the
army-a heathen by birth, but a servant of the true
God by conversion and upon principle; an honourable and upright man; and his dwelling in Jerusalem, so near the palace of the king, justifies us in
supposing that he held a social position of great




SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID.    237
respectability. Bathsheba, too, the lamb that lay
in this poor man's bosom, was allied to well-known
families in Israel. She was the daughter of Eliam,
one of David's mighty men, and the granddaughter
of Ahithophel, one of David's chief counsellors-a
man held in the highest reputation for ability and
wrisdom; and this iljury to his family perhaps
alienated him from the throne, and made him a
chief conspirator with Absalom  to avenge his
wrong against the king. 2 Sam. xi. 3; xxiii. 34.
These statements bring the case sufficiently before us, and enable us to understand that this
enormous iniquity awakened public attention in
Israel. Such a secret easily spreads. Every man
heard of it, thought upon it, commented upon it.
It was the theme of public and private conversation, and it influenced each person in keeping with
his own character. We may speak of these things
because evidently God, in his holy providence and
upon the pages of his holy wordl, has taken no
pains to conceal this sin of his servant. On the
contrary, he has taken effectual measures to publish it. David did this thing in secret, but God
brought it out before Israel and before the sun.
We may be anlazed and troubled at so sad a fall to
such a man; our views may not be sufficiently
clear to enable us in all points to vindicate the
providence of God; we may judge that far more
evil than good would result from such a case; yet
we can scarcely think that for nothing God has




238            LIFE OF DAVID.
made this matter so prominent in the Bible and in
the history of the Church.  But even when these
strange ways of Providence seem too deep for us,
there are weighty considerations to reconcile us to
such dispensations, painful as they are. Take together the history and the Psalm, and we may see
God's glory and man's good even in these dark
scenes. Few pages of all ancient records can we
less afford to lose than those which pertain to
David's darkest sin.  Many a man's Bible opens
at the fifty-first Psalm more readily than anywhere
else; many a believer knows its words by heart
and thoroughly wishes he felt its spirit more;
many a humbled soul would less easily part with
this Psalm than with all the uninspired utterances
of penitent feeling put together.  Taking this
whole matter, indeed, as teaching us of man's sin
and of the principles of the divine rule, especially
for the pardon of the guilty, it may be very well
questioned whether any event in the history of our
race, between the fall in Eden and the cross on
Calvary, is more worthy of our thoughts than this.
The sinl of David has been the occasion of preaching the gospel to thousands in his own and in succeeding ages, and the same results that the gospel
usually produces have sprung forth, in a remarkable
degree, from this great crime.
WVe have seen among the wonderful creations of
human skill some of those remarkable pictures
where the background is almost pure blackness,




SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID.    239
and from the dark starts forth a single figure,
which concentrates all the light of the painting
upon itself-whose bold relief is owing to the
gloom around it, and whose striking beauty is all
the more admired from its contrast with everything else in the picture. Such a moral picture
have we here. We palliate nothing of David's iniquity. We would not spoil the figure in relief by
lighter shading around or behind it.  Let the
greatness of his wrong be urged; its baseness in
itself; its dangers to society; its reproach upon
religion and upon God; its tendency to harden the
hearts of sinful men; and we have nothing to say
in reply. We confess judgment just here. It is
also beyond the bitterest reproach of any accuser.
But we say that here the gospel is preached; here
light is thrown upon the great system for human
salvation; here most impressively the principles
of the gospel are taught, and here the results of
preaching the gospel may be discerned.
What is the gospel but God's methods of mercy
for the salvation of sinners?  These methods of
mercy have we here.
What is the preaching of the gospel but making
known these merciful provisions of God's pardoning grace?  Now the sin of David is no more
famous than his pardon. The Psalm is as widely
known as the history. The very notoriety of these
scenes, in his times and ever since, has more largely
taught these principles. It is no private preaching.




240             LIFE OF DAVID.
It is public, widespread preaching, whose voice is
heard wherever the Bible goes.
The first doctrine we may mention as involved
in these teachings of David's sin is the deep depravity of the heart of man.
The simple narrative teaches this if it teaches
anything, and the Psalmist's words of self-abasement bring it plainly before us. Shapen in iniquity
and conceived in sin, he pleads for thorough
washing and entire cleansing.  Strictly speaking,
the doctrine of man's depravity fborms no part of
the gospel, as the science of medicine treats of
diseases, while it is in no just sense the cause of
diseases, but is designed for their relief. Yet it is
indissolubly connected with all our preaching.  It
is the dark background of the world's history from
which springs forth SALVATION?, the chief and only
beautiful figure that angels can discern as they gaze
from afar off upon the canvas of time. Man
might have all his sin if he had no Saviour. The
man who denies the gospel of Jesus Christ in this
world, where sin undeniably abounds, has done an
act of infinitely greater madness than if he should
leave the world full of plague and fever and contagion, and strike from existence every physician,
every soothing or healing potion, every tender sympathy around the couch of the suffering. The
gospel finds sin in existence-undeniable, dreadful;
it teaches of sin, yet its office is remedial.
This world is full of sin, and David's history




SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID.    241
and David's penitential Psalm  most fully teach
man's deep iniquity. And if David was a religious man, if his professions and his character were
usually far otherwise, the argument is but the
stronger to show that sin thoroughly defiles the
nature of mnan.  Here we learn that even the grace
of God, though influencing the soul for many years
of life, does not so free it from liability to sin that
Mwe need not fear temptation.  "I have seen an end
of all perfection," well may the devout mind exclaim as he hears these confessions. Who should
not fear sift when David falls under its power,
after having served God from his youth until now?
The first lesson of the gospel-the last, also-a
lesson that every man needs to drive him to Christ;
a lesson, which, because it is so true, we are so
prone to forget, and which therefore we must repeatedly learn, and even by bitter experience-is
plainly taught us here: "There is none righteous,
no, not one; there is none that understandeth, there
is none that seeketh after God."  In view of such
iniquity in such a man, let "every mouth be
stopped, and all the world become guilty before
God."
The second doctrine taught us here is the very
gospel itself: Let us turn aside and see this great
sight-more wonderful than the waters of the
deluge or the burning of Sodom-God's mercy extended to sinful man! If here we saw  David
sinking under the judgments which these sins de16




242             LIFE OF DAVID.
serve, we could easily justify the righteousness of
God.  Doubtless many may be disposed to think
that God would have been more fully vindicated in
rejecting David as Saul had been rejected, and in
carrying out the pure sentence of the law against
him.  But in this certainly there would have been
no gospel.  We may speak again of the rigohteousliess of God as vindicated; now we simply notice
this chief characteristic of the gospel in the prophet's words: " The Lord also hath put away thy
Sin."
A third doctrine here taught is that salvation is
purely of grace.  The nature of the case and the
terms used imply this, and it is seen also in the
Psalmist's pleadings for God's mercy and according to his loving-kindness.  And we may the more
carefully note this point because a later inspired
writer calls our attention to it in connection with
this very case.  In the thirty-second Psalm  David
writes in view of this great iniquity, and Paul says
he declares the blessedness of the man who is'pardoned by grace and without works. RPom. iv. 6-9.
A fourth lesson in these important teachings is
one which the scriptural writers delight to present.
The gospel proclaims not only pardon, and by
grace, but pardon to the chief of sinners.  David
was a very great offender, yet he is freely forgiven.
Here is one of the most important facts in the his,
tory of salvation. How would many a troubled
soul sink into despair but for such gracious lines




SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID.    243
as these! —"The blood of Jesus Christ, his Son,
cleanseth us from all sin."  " He is able to save
unto the uttermost all that come unto God through
him."  God's finger wrote the same precious truths
on David's well-known history. The more we
magnify his sin, the more must we magnify forgiving grace. Paul thought himself the chief of
sinners and a pattern of God's grace for others.
So many have thought. It is the language of
true penitence:
"I the chief of sinners am,
But Jesus died for. me."'Yet we may calmly judge that few men could use
this language more appropriately than could David.
John Bunyan has written out a book of his religious experience with this title: " Grace Abounding
to the Chief of Sinners." But this is no new doctrine in the Church of God. It is as old as the
history of grace itself, and we shall but know more
of its wonders when grace has turned to glory.
Special trophies of mercy have encouraged penitence in all ages, yet scarcely ever, if ever, did
grace pardon a greater sinner than this royal transgressor. If a book like Bunyan's had been handed
down in the Church, to be signed by all who have
reason to wear the title-the chief of sinners-and
to thank God for his grace abounding to such, one
name, attracting every eye, would be written there
with a bold, large hand —I, DAVID, KING IN
JERUSALEM!




244             LIFE OF DAVID.So this  penitent felt.  The  New  Testament
words are different; the meaning is the same.
Paul's phrases are, " Grace abounding," and " the
riches of his grace."  David's words are,';Thy
loving-kindness," and " the multitlde of thy tender mercies."
A fifth lesson of tile gospel in David's words reveals the Spirit's agency in the entire work of salvation.  We may expect to find less of the Spirit's
work in that age of the Church than now, under
"the ministration of the Spirit."  Yet the true
doctrine is clearly set forth. David prayed for
God's Spirit in the hour of his guilt; he greatly
feared to be forsaken of the Spirit; he needed the
Spirit's grace for further usefulness.  "Take not
thy Holy Spirit, from  me" is his fervent prayer;
"' Uphold me by thy fiee Spirit" is his earnest language; "Tle'n shall I teach transgressors thy ways,
and sinners shall be converted unto thee" is his
humble confidence when clothed with the Spirit's
power.
Sixth. One other lesson of the gospel is here
taught, and one of prime importance in the teachings of salvation. Paul says he was not ashamed
of the gospel of Christ, for therein is THE RIGHTEOUSNESS OF GOD revealed.  Whatever else Paul
means here-and he does meagn more-he means preeminently that God is righteous when he saves the
sinner.  This would indeed be a marred and unhappy gospel, if, while it saves the degraded sinner,




SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID.    245
it dishonoured the exalted Creator.  No such
teachings can we find in the word or works of
God from  the beginning until now. God's free
grace throws no reproach upon God's righteous
law. DJavid takes the shame to himself: "That
thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and
be clear when thou judgest." And in view of forgiven sin, he says, " My tongue shall sing aloud of
THY RIGHTEOUSNESS."'
There is no matter of greater importance in the
gospel. The Bible only suggests, and the Bible
only solves, this mightiest problem of human
thought, How can God be just and yet justify the
ungodly?  Even in the Scriptures the solution of
this question was not clear and explicit until after
the great sacrifice of Calvary. So Paul expressly
teaches that God has set forth his Son "to be a
propitiation,.... to declare his righteousness in
the forgiveness of sins," for the past and for ever
after. We may wonder that the divine character
should be so long subject to misapprehension, while
God did pardon sin, but did not vindicate the
grounds of the pardon. We may wonder at the
ancient faith that rested upon the divine promises,
and yet so imperfectly comprehended the rectitude
of a sin-forgiving God. Yet in all ages there have
been proofs of God's regard for his law in every
case of pardoning mercy. The remission of sins
swas ever by the shedding of blood, as typical of the
coining Redeemer..  When David pleads for par



246            LIFE OF DAVID.
don, he both recognizes the sacrifices of the altar
and yet acknowledges the insufficiency of his whole
burnt-offerings.  The significancy and the'insufficiency of his offerings alike pointed forward to
Him who should vindicate the divine rectitude in
the pardon of the guilty.
But that righteousness was even then shown in
this, that every sinner pardoned was also a sinner
renewed. The grace of God ever gives new'life to
the soul of man; and the penitent David pleads,
"Create in me a clean heart, O God."  Renexwal
and forgiveness are never separated, and only the
evidences of renewal can be tokens of forgiveness.
And no man can follow the subsequent history
of this great transgressor without discerning the
displeasure of a holy God against the iniquities he
forgives.  Here is matter of pious instruction
worthy of the serious thoughts of men beyond our
present limits. Great as is the efficacy of renewing and restoring grace, the sanctification of' the
heart is a longer and more painful process.. And
the words of the indignant David, when he heard
the parable of Nathan, pronounce upon himself
the measure of evil that must come upon him from
his own house to vindicate the divine abhorrence
of his sin:
" He shall restore him  fourfold."  Therefore,
first, the child of Bathsheba shall die. Therefore,
next, the sin of Amrnon and the shame of Tamar
and the revenge of Absalorn renew the royal crimes




SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID.    247
in the royal house. Therefore, again, Absalom's
rebellion. and dishonour and death bring out the
same offences before all Israel andfl before the sun.
Therefore, lastly, evenl the peacefill Solomon but
sits quietly upon his throne whlen Adonijah dies.
Follow the forgiven sinner through all these scenes.
Think of his anguish by the couch of that suffering babe; see him pass weeping and bareheaded up
the ascent of Olivet; drop the tear of sympathy
with the bitter weeping of a pious father over the
untimely death of anl impenitent son; see the reappearing of the royal iniquities beneath the shadow
of that palace which he had first defiled. Surely
sin is no light thing in the sight of God when such
results come upon even a forgiven sinner. How
instructive are the latter scenes of David's life!
The decline rather than the advance of the kingdomn; the loss of confidence in him; the elements
of discord among the people; the troubles in his
house; the. bitter memories of his iniquity —giving
grief to the monarch, to the husband, to the father,
to the believer-unequivocally prove that God has
no pleasure in unrighteousness, and illustrate the
remarkable words to Moses: "Forgiving iniquity
and transgression in sin, BUT BY No MEANS CLEARING THE GUILTY."
Thus the sin of David preaches the gospel of
Christ. The chief principles of the gospel God
here makes known.  Sin is here; here also are
pardon and grace; and the rich encouragements to




248            LIFE OF DAVID.
the chief of sinners, and the power of -his Spirit to
renew the soul, and the guards held forth to remind us that God abhors the sin he pardons, are
precious lessons here. Dark as these scenes are in
the Psalmist's life, they are as instructive as they
are sad. Here is the gospel according to David.
Here are the same essential principles afterward
more clearly exhibited in the New Testament; and
-the graceful, beautiful figure springing forth in
such bold relief from this gloomy baclk ground is,
" THE GRACE OF GOD THAT BRINGETH SALVATION."
But we have intimated that the results of the
gospel may be seen here.  These results in every
age have been twofold-a savour of life unto
life, or of death unto death.
1st. Doubtless the entire case of David has resulted in hardening many a heart.  Many have
grown bold in sin; many have wholly rejected
religion; many have scofftd at the grace that so
freely forgave such an offender.  Reason as we may,
explain as we can the divine administration, we see
these results.  Nor can we decide whether the sin
of the man or the grace of God has afforded the
most ground for cavilling.
We may be able never in this life fully to undlerstand why God allows such offences to come.
Though we might show that they afford no real
ground for cavilling at God or religion, let it now
suffice to suggest that these things TRY THE SPIRITS




SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID.    249
OF MEN. W7hen the kingdom of David was agitated in every private circle by the astounding
tidings of David's sin-when men met together to
talk of it, when no man could meet his neighbour
without showing in his face the influence the news
had exerted upon him —-it would be easy to determine the religious character of every man from the
effect produced upon him. Grief filled the heart
of every lover of piety; tears easily started to his
eyes; his look was downcast; his words were mild.;
his tone was humble.  But every ungodly mall
was triumphant.  It could be seen at a glance in
his whole demeanour; his scoff at religion and religious professors was bolder than ever, and he
departed farther than before from right and from
God. So yet the falls of Christians search the
characters of men, and try them that dwell upon
the earth. Doubtless we all have heard the scoff
expressed at the sins of those who profess to fear
God. We have heard persons, professedly religious, utter the bitter sarcasm at the falls of their
brethren, and speak derisively where they should
have mourned. Let who may utter such scoffs,
their spirit is thoroughly irreligious, and the man
who has the heart to speak them or to sympathize
with them should be startled at the revelation of
his own character. No patriot in the presence of
his country's foes ever sneered at her calamities
or at the treason of her trusted sons.  No fond
brother ever scoffed at a brother's fall or - sister's




250            LIFE OF DAVID.
shame; and every true lover of God, in view of sin
around him-especially of sin in men of whom better things were expected-feels grief rather than
scorn, and mourns rather than reviles.  These
things, as much as any truth or any duty, try
men's principles, nor can they at all be vindicated
who, by reason of these things, increase in evil.
Rather, as cases involving like principles reappear in each passing age of the world; as Providence brings the matter to our own experience; as
we see the sudden, reproachful fall, every now and
then, of some man who had long borne an enviable
reputation in the house of God; as now and then
a minister of religion becomes a minister of sin;
as passing through our streets our eyes are pained
with the sight of men now unblushing in guilt,
now bloated by dissipation, now ribald and profane, now bitter in their hostility to the cause and
the people of God, who once sat reverently in the
sanctuary, once read tearfully the sacred page, once
humbly bowed in prayer, once partook with deep
emotion of the table of the Lord;-in view of
these things-the scandal of piety and the grief of
the pious-we would like to ask the hardened
scoffer, and him also who now but begins to scoff,
we would like to ask every man, whether there is
not a better and more profitable view of these
things. 5Woe indeed to him by whom an offence
comes! But woe to him who takes needless or undue offence! Woe especially to him who makes the




SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID.    251
sin of a fellow-creature an occasion for departing
from his Creator! The end of these things is death.
No man can harden himself against God, BY ANY
MEANS or FOR ANY REASON, and prosper.  The
mnan who takes offence at this gospel, FOr ANY
REASON, must perish.  Every man needs the full
blessings of this gospel for his own salvation. He
therefore who looks at any teachings in the Bible,
at any providences in the world, at any deficiencies
in the Church, so as to harden his own heart or to
become more careless of piety, reaches these results
to his owni perdition. Account for it as we may,
these off'enes ever attend the preaching of the gospel-even attend the march of Providence. But he
is a lost man who allows himself, for such or any
reasons, to neglect his own duty or to slight the
grace of God.
But, 2d. Men may look at scenes like these in
David's life and be led by salutary thoughts to
honour God, to advance religion and to bless their
OWnl souls.
A truly pious man, in view of such things, may
well fear for himself, and be led to the deep anxiety
of a careful self-examination.  If David falls, "clet
him. who thinketh he standetlh take heed!"  Distrust of self, distrust of man and dependence only
upon God we learn here.  In all succeeding time
the people of God have learned from these records
the deceitfiulness of sin, the danger of temptation,
and the folly of supposing that any eminence in




252            LIFE OF DAVID.
the Church, any services rendered to Zion, any experience of grace or any promises of God's unchanging favour, will allow us to relax our vigilance
or to decline from the path of duty.
A truly pious man more firmly abides by his
principles when others forsake them, and endeavours to adorn  them  more when others bring
reproach upon them.
And we often need the encouraging aspects of
David's case when the forgiveness of such a sinner
makes us bold to approach the throne of grace, and
when the petitions of David teach us how to pray.
Some surprising sin has perhaps brought reproach
upon piety and filled our souls with grief, or a long
season of backsliding begins to yield its bitter fruits,
or we have hidden iniquity in our hearts and the
Lord will not hear us. Our deepest griefs are not
always when the world reproaches. We may have
a well-ordered Church, doctrines and order according to the Scriptures, an educated and laborious
ministry, the' name and the word and the day and
the house of God held in reverence, growing wealth
and influence and labours and numbers, and yet
reasons for lamentation and humility-for saying,
"The ways of Zion mourn;" for gathering the
people, sanctifying the congregation and setting
the ministers of God to weep between the porch
and the altar. Judg. ii. 16, 17. Let us learn from
David the perpetual folly of concealing our guilt;
let us copy his ingenuous confession-" I have sinned




SIN AND -PENITENCE OF DAVID.    253
against the Lord;" let us adopt his suitable petitions, his needful pleas for grace, his appropriate
vows of duty; let us hope in the Lord, whose
mercy endures for ever.  Our legitimate reasonings
upon this entire case should promote our piety.
WTe have no apologies to make for sin.  We may
fear and shun it more than ever; we may be
grieved when reproach is cast upon religion; but
in our gloomiest thoughts for ourselves or others,
when iniquity grows strong and the heart grows
hard and.human hope would fail, the beautiful
covenant-bow is painted on this darkest cloud —
an everlasting covenant, even the sure mercies of
David, God proclaims to us; and the blood of
Jesus Christ, David's Redeemer and ours, cleanseth
from all sin.
And if a thoughtful man, hitherto unconverted
and impenitent, reads this entire history of David,
reads this wonderful Psalm, the commentary of
God's grace upon it, let just and wise reflections
bless his needy soul.
Let him. fear sin more than ever.  David had
many restraining influences.  He had tasted God's
renewing grace; he had received many promises;
he had long formed his habits to virtue. Yet he
grossly sinned.  Surely, then, an unconverted sinner, with less restraints, unrenewed by grace, without a supporting Providence, with habits giving
strength to sin, has reason to fear lest the current
of.depravity may carry him away.




254            LIFE OF DAVID.
And such a man may well be afraid of the wrath
of God. In view of the distressing calamities in
the family of David, we may well adopt the style
of the apostle's argument: If judgment begins at
the house of God, what may sinful men expect?
If God deals so with penitent and pardoned friends,
what may they look for who are impenitent and
unpardoned foes?  If the righteous scarcely be
saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner
appear? In view of the penitent David's trouLiles,
every impenitent transgressor may fear the wrath
of God.
Yet let every man who desires to secure his own
salvation learn from David that God freely pardons
sin. What awakens cavillings in other minds may
awaken hope and thankfillness in his. This is just
what he needs, the riches of divine grace. The
more he knows of' his sins, the more is he convinced
that grace alone can suit him; and tidings of pardon are welcome. Grace to the chief of sinners is
glad news to burdened minds. Let my sinful soul
approach where David found mercy. kNot less than
Paul is David a pattern of God's tender mercy.
Let the humbled sinner follow his footsteps. Let
him take David's prayer in this fifty-first Psalm,
and in the presence of his God let him solemnly
kneel before his open Bible and make these pleadings his own. Here is a proof of God's mercy and
willingness to be gracious; here are words rightly
framed; here we may fill our mouth with argu



SIN AND PENITENCE OF DAVID.    255
Ments and order our case before him: and by this
Psalm has God's Spirit led many a soul to himself
now for three thousand years. And the Psalmist,
in so many words, expressly recognizes that God's
mercy to him would teach his ways to transgressors
and turn sinners to God.
And should any man be still disposed to cavil at
the display of God's free grace, let him distinctly
understand  that he but injures his own soul.
Through just such a door of mercy must every
sinner pass if he would not be condemned before a
righteous God. Let every man beware that he
ventures not to sin because David fell or because
grace abounded for his free forgiveness.  Take
especial notice that David was a PENITENT sinner.
If in this particular thing we are not like him, all
other possible points of similarity are dreadful.
We may sin as he did, deliberately, grossly, wilfillly; we may sin far less, and if we repent not,
sin will prove our ruin. But though our sins seem
greater far, more deeply aggravated, longer continued and against clearer light, he can forgive to
the uttermost, and we may draw near to God.
The only safe thing for an imitation in David is
his penitence; but the open door of acceptance for
such a one as he, offers a welcome to the guilty of
every age.
With what urgency is the gospel preached to
us! In history and by precept, by examples living and dead, by every variety of case for six




256             LIFE OF DAVID.
thousand years, our duties and our dangers, God's
wrath and his mercy, are set before us. And the
great concern of salvation is a matter of importance as infinite to be settled in the personal experience of each one of us, as in the experience of
any who have spent their brief period of earthly
life and preceded us to eternity. This is a matter
that can never grow unimportant.  If' never a soul
before had received profit from  these experiences
of David, or if thousands have been benefited,
let each one who reads these pages fear to sin, and
rejoice in God's mercy.  Each one must join the
crowds who have hardened their hearts against
truth and grace, and found the gospel a savour of
death unto death, or must join the bands of those
who have seen their own sinfulness more fully in
the sin of others-who have rejoiced to hear of
pardon and to accept of it, as they tread the narrow way to life. Let none be negligent or perverse.
We have nothing to gain by quarrelling with God's
forbearance and forgiveness to a sinful soul; since,
if ever saved, we too must be saved by mercy.
Rather forsake every sin; bow before Him who
wa:its to be gracious. Confess truly and humbly,
" I have sinned against the Lord;" and hope too
for that precious answer, "The Lord also hath put
aw ay thy sin."




CHAPTER Xl.V.
THO-UGHTS ON TLE FiAULT FOUND WITH
CHR ISTI ANS.
H'L"lIOU  hast given great occasion to the en1  emies of the Lord to blaspheme," are the
words of pointed, plain and just rebuke which
SNathan the prophet addressed to David, king of
Israel, in reference to a remarkable, and, we may
properly say, a shameful and wicked transaction of
his life. Taking the character'of David as a whole,
we esteem him one of the best men the world ever
saw, but, as if to show us the weakness and frailty
of our human nature, he was left at one time to
himself, the restraints of God's grace were removed,
and David stooped to deeds of impurity and falsehood, of injustice and violence, of which any heathen might be ashamed. No apology is -made in
the Scriptures for David's flagrant wickedness in
the matter of Uriah's wife; and we are thus taught
that it is never our place to defehid or extenuate or
disguise with light words the faults of those who
may stand high in the Church of God. We are
nowhere taught in the Scriptures that pious men
are without faults; and the entire administration
of the covenant of grace goes upon the principle
17                                 251




258            LIFE OF DAVID.
that God's people need restraint and instruction and
chastisement as long as they live. And so dark
are the scriptural views of man's depravity that,
however much we may be grieved, we can scarcely
be surprised at any exhibitions of iniquity in any
man at any time; yet would we use means of reproof and remedy toward their defections of whom
we had expected better things, not less readily and
not less earnestly than toward'the sins of others.
"We can do nothing against the truth, but for the
truth."  We would have no sanctions, no excuses
for evil; we would recognize a greater delinquency
of sin where just expectations have been formed of
nobler conduct. The gross iniquity of David in
the matter of Uriah —like a defiling stain upon
robes of linen pure and white-is only the more
manifest and the more gross from of its contrast
with the general tenor of his life; he mourned over
it as a man thoroughly given up to iniquity would
not have mourned; and religion suffered reproach
for his conduct as it could not suffer fromn all the
crimes of Sodom or of the Canaanites.  Men that
profess to be religious are justly identified with the
cause of religion, so: that their entire conduct and
opinions must conform to the principles of piety, or
religion itself will suffer reproach and the name
of God himself be blasphemed. We are not only
aware that the world expects that such as profess
piety should exemplify its principles, but we recognize the justice of. their expectation, and we aver




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   259
that God designs to teach the world through the
holy example of pious men. We make no objection to the watchfulness of the world over the
character and conduct of religious people; we
desire to be animated by it to more circumspection.
Yet there is one matter which we could wish was
better understood. We think the plain tendency
of the world around is to find undue fault with the
failings of religious men, to throw undue blame
upon religion itself, and to draw false, unreasonable and mischievous conclusions, which injure the
objectors themselves and do no good to any one.
We have no wish to shrink from our just, responsibilities; we would by unreasonable cavillings be
placed more and more upon our guard, and be led
to adorn more truly the doctrine of God our Saviour; but we desire also that those who remain in
the world and watch our conduct should do justice
to us and to the gospel and to their own souls.
Men ought to see that to prove us wrong does not
prove themselves right; that our defections from
the principles of the gospel do not invalidate the
principles of the gospel; and that their discernnient of the faults and inconsistencies of Christians, as compared with the principles of the gospel,
can but have the just effect to fasten upon them
more firmly the duties which they are as truly
bound as we to perform.
In considering the matter of reproach cast upon
religion for the faults of religious mnen, we are not




260            LIFE OF DAVID.
willing to "confess judgment" for all the delinquencies lai(l at our doors. We ask reflecting men
in the world, who make no professions of piety, to
consider calmly whether there is not undue fault
found with religious persons-whether tlhere is not
a disposition to exaggerate their inconsistencies;
whether, indeed, there is not quite a different standard erected according to which no man would wish
himself to be estimated?  We are sometimes disposed to think such is the censorious spirit of the
-world that no Christian can please the world, let
him  adopt what course of conduct he may. " If
1 yet pleased men," says the great apostle of the
Gentiles, " I should not be the servant of Christ."
And higher authority than that of Paul teaches us
that fault-finding men were not put to silence by
the only perfect and holy example of human life
and character that the world has ever seen.  According to the illustration of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the world is like a gang of children playing in the
streets.  One child proposes one play, and another
a different one. Each child has its own notions
and refuses to play at all unless all the rest come to
his terms.  John  the Baptist was an austere
preacher, having little sympathy and intercourse
with men, and they esteemed him a fanatic. The
Son of man mingled freely with all orders of men,
accepted invitations to their feasts and had free
conversation with everybody, and they complained
that he kept inferior company and was too fond of




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   261
good living. If such a Teacher could not be
blameless in the eyes of censoriois men, the disciple may not expect to be above the Master.  If a
religious man is of a silent and reserved temperament, he is reproached as unsociable and his piety
stigmatized as gloomy. If he is frank and cheerfill and fond of company, then he lacks the seriousness which piety should give. Between these extremes it is hard to secure the proper mean in
reality, and especially is it hard to do it, so as to
secure the respect of the world. If we live and
move among men without active endeavours to
recommend religion to them, they justly think that
we are inconsistent in so important a profession;
yet if we seriously urge the claims of piety, there
is danger of reproach for being over-zealous.  Industry is in danger of reproach as worldly-mindedness; Christian weakness, as guilty timidity amidst
surrounding sin; bold and firm reproofs of sin, as
officious meddling; prudent economy, as avarice;
and the fear of worldly contamination, as the affectations of an unworthy hypocrisy.  The most
thoughtful minds must candidly acknowledge that
there are practical difficulties in the way of every
serious man who would attain the just medium in
the formation of his own character and the regulation of his own conduct. We may not now tarry
even to suggest hints to assist those that would secure this. We only say that such is the temper of
the world;toward religious professors that the most




262            LIFE OF DAVID,
careful and exemplary cannot rise above reproach.
Even truth will not seem truth when exposed to a
false light, and the holiest character will seem distorted when seen through the medium of warping
p)rej ud ice.
These remarks should ward off the force of
many undeserved reproaches cast upon religious
persons. But with regard to reproaches which have
a better foundation, we may discern the same disposition to find undue fault on the part of the
world, because men seldom stop to make a distinction between one class and another of religious
people. We all know that large and sweeping denunciation is seldom just; that in every society
some men rise far above their fellows, alnd some
bring reproach upon their associates, and that in
justice we should distinguish between the good and
the evil. The world knows that many members
of the Christian Church are worthy of but little
confidence, but they so deal out their censures
against them as to extend the reproach to all their
brethren.  No body of men can ever be held responsible for the individual delinquencies of their
associates, especially delinquencies foreign to the
principles which unite them together; if just pains
were taken to let the blame fall where the blame
belongs, no complaint could be made; but the tendency to indiscriminate reproach is manifest, but
thoroughly unjust.
The severity of judgment exhibited by men of




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   263
the world toward religious persons seems the more
unjust because it is not the result of any proper
principles which they have adopted, and indeed it
is quite apart from the usual methods by which
they judge other people. There is a species of
charity exercised toward even the vilest of men
which is in wide contrast with the censures cast on
religious men. Nothing is more common than
apologies for the delinquencies of men; and with
them, if so be they do not belong to the Church of
God, one apparent virtue atones for many a fault.
For example: a man may be a miserable drunkard,
abusing his family, abusing every trust committed
to him as a husband and a father, but the world
apologizes, "He is a good-hearted fellow when he
is sober." He may abuse his body, ruin his constitution and bring himself to the verge of the
grave, but " he means well and harms nobody but
himself." These current judgments are but a specimen of the world's tolerance toward all creeds
but truth, and toward all kinds of conduct except
that which seems to reflect upon a prevalent laxity
of principle. Now we neither judge it right to
speak thus leniently of the iniquities of men, nor
desire that such indulgence should be extended to
the faults of religious persons. We only mark the
contrast as exhibiting a tendency to make the most
of the faults of religious people. The faults of
Christians are eagerly noted and tardily forgotten;
no just allowances are made for the frailties of an




26 —4          LIFE OF DAVID.
imperfect nature, and no remembrance had of the
brighter virtues by whose side those delinquencies
seem only the darker. A single stumble-and this
too in a man who makes no pretensions to perfection of views or conduct-will often be rememlbered against him-will shake the confidence he
has heretofore enjoyed; and no time elapsing, no
carefulness of future conduct, can obliterate the
memory of it. Now, no man wishes to be judged,
in this way, and few men in a world like this can
abide so severe a scrutiny. That the world should
closely observe him, that his errors should be
marked and his sins rebuked, are matters of which
no one has just reason to complain. Every man
ought to take it patiently when buffeted for his
faults, and humbly submit when censure is founded
on things that deserve it. Yet there are often very
important matters wholly passed over by a censorious world. When the man himself mourns over
his faults and endeavours to correct them, when
over against them is set a life of virtue and a long
array of useful actions, and when he keeps in
memory his past failings so that he may more carefully avoid them in future, surely justice and candour might admit and admire his excellences, and
might esteem the man rather by the tenor of his
life than by errors which, at the very worst, cannot
be called his governing principles. But the tendency among men is to apologize for irreligious
people, to dwell upon their good qualities, to pass




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   265
lightly over their evidences of depravity, and to
attribute even their evil to anything rather than
to a bad heart; while there is as plain a tendency to
attribute the wrongs of religious men to the worst
motive, and to regard them as proof of the most
evident hypocrisy.
This greater severity in judging religious men is
indicated by the fact that they profess higher and
holier principles than other men. Men easily lose
sight of the fact that, so far as these are true and
holy principles, every man is as truly bound as is a
Christian to fear and love God and to keep his
laws; and the mere fact that a man professes to recognize his duty, and acknowledges himself bound
to its discharge, is no just reason for looking more
leniently upon those who neither do their duty nor
profess to do it. But when we seriously ask, What
is the true amount of the Christian profession? it
may confidently be said that there are many who
do not, after all, fall so much short of that which
they profess. Religious men do not pretend to say
that their piety secures them from errors, from
temptations, from human infirmities; nor do they
claim that because they are Christians they are
henceforth  perfect.  Their  professed  principles
imply far otherwise than this. No man more than
a true Christian acknowledges himself a sinner,
feels and owns the power of temptation and understands his liability to fall; and such a man discovers more closely his own failings, and grieves




266            LIFE OF DAVID.
more deeply over them, than any one else does for
him.  So far as the Christian profession is made in
the face of the world, it amounts about to this: the
Christian acknowledges what his duties are under
the law of God, and bewails his past delinquencies,
and expresses now his desire and professes his endeavour to meet his obligations.  The most worthy
men of those that make this Christian profession
are generally most aware of their own deficiencies,
and least disposed either to boast of their excellences, or even to defend themselves when the world
alleges they are not wholly consistent. Yet since
they do not profess to reach a perfect standard,
since even the most illustrious characters of the
Scriptures are imperfect, with one single and exalted exception, they have a right to claim in all
candour that their motives should not be misrepresented nor their errors so exaggerated.
But a candid decision upon these matters cannot
be expected from a world that is filled with prejudice against religion. It never has been so, and we
judge it never will. An unreasonable world will
keenly discern the most trivial faults, will continue
to judge harshly of them, and will especially attribute to religion itself the delinquencies of
unworthy persons who profess to be religious.
But from these thoughts we pass on to say, further, that the judgment of the world in this case is
illogical and false. Especially we affirm that the
faults of religious persons, at the very worst, are




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   267
no arguments against the truth of Christianity.
Let us make the supposition that the faults of religious persons are in no wise exaggerated by the
world, and that they are even worse than have ever
been charged upon them, and we may yet affirm, in
such a case, that the faults of professing Christians
form no just argument against the divine origin of
the Christian system.  The Bible may be from
God, though those who receive it as from him are
not what they should be. Indeed, its very elevation above them  may afford us convincing proof
that they do not receive it as divine, except because
just evidences prove that it is so, and that surely
such teachings have a higher source than sinful..
man.
Before we can blame Christianity for the inconsistencies of Christian people, it will be needful to
show that it is the natural tendency of the Christian system to originate and promote their faults,
*or that it connives, in some degree at least, at such
delinquencies, or that, through some fault in the
working of the system itself, it is incompetent to
the task of reforming men's lives. Cavillings upon
this subject seldom proceed, indeed, from men of
serious reflection; and especially few men will ever
undertake to say that either of these things can be
affirmed.
Can any one intelligently attempt to prove that
the Bible is defective as a system of morals to
govern men? We will not allege that men must




268            LIFE OF DAVID.
be satisfied with the arrangements of the truths in
the Bible as most according to man's ideas of a
perfect system, for it is not for man to decide in
what way a system of divine truth may be best
revealed. But we do affirm that, as to substance,
the Bible is a perfect and complete directory-such
as man needs for his guidance, restraint and support in every duty in life.
Let any man take up his Bible and point out
the matter or the degree wherein it is defective for
human guidance.
It is not defective in its principles.  For, to go
no farther than this, we may affirm that nothing
canll be more just or more conducive to good morals
than the firmn foundation of biblical morality. A
God of infinite excellence sees and knows all we
are and all we do, will hold us accountable for
everything, and requires that all we do should
accord with his own glorious character.
It is not defective in its precepts.  For, in all its
varied teachings, no man can point out a doctrine
of immoral or of dangerous tendency; and in the
infinitely various aspects of human life there are
no instances where a man, guided by this volume,
would lack just principles for his guidance. There
is no defect by reason of either redundant precepts
or omitted teachings which man's need requires.
Nor can any one say that the morality of the
Bible is defective in the motives by which it influences men to right.  It urges duty and right,




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   269
honour and pleasure, good and evil, loss and gain,
interest and gratitude, love and fear-in short,
every influence that can address reasonable and
thinking beings.  No man certainly can find fault
with the punishments denounced in the Bible as
not being sufficiently severe: nor can any one reasonably suggest a larger or more attractive reward
of virtue than it promises. Everything that can
deter from the ways of evil or attract to the path
of right is here spread plainly before the minds of
men.
Nor is Christianity deficient in the opportunities
it afords by which men may learn their duties, and
gain strength and find occasion for discharging
these. It opens the pages of this remarkable volume for man's instruction; it sets apart one entire
day in seven, by divine authority, for religious duties; it establishes a holy brotherhood  in the
Church, where the hands of pious men may be
strengthened by association with each other for religious ends; it leads each man to the duty of
prayer for divine assistance, and it promises the enlightening, renewing and sanctifying power of the
Holy Spirit to sustain and prepare for every duty.
We aver that there is not one single thing in the
entire system of Christianity that has the slightest
legitimate tendency to weaken the bonds of moral
obligation, or to extenuate or apologize for either
the neglect or the transgression of duty; and that
for these reasons Christianity is not chargeable with




270            LIFE OF DAVID.
the faults of her disciples committed in defiance
of her principles.  Every man can see the impropriety of charging, for example, upon the science
of astronomy the crude opinions held by honest
men for many ages in reference to the heavens, or
the absurd ideas noW maintained in the Hindoo or
Mohammedan cosmogony; or of charging upon the
science of therapeutics the absurd nostrums of quack
practitioners, or even the errors which have been
held by careful and sincere physicians. Errors, either
theoretical or practical, in reference to any science,
do not prove the science false, and are not really to
be charged to the science itself.  The true science
of astronomy is just what the heavens teach, not
what men have understood them  to teach.  All
the errors belong to men, not to the divine arrangement of the heavens. True medical science is a
just conformity to the teachings of disease and to
wise methods of relief, nor can we say that the
science is false because men, wilfully or ignorantly,
believe or practice irregular and hurtfill methods.
So we judge of everything.  No man gives up his
truth because other men have false views upon the
same subject.  Christianity is not to be understood
by what its disciples profess or practice, but by
the revelations which are given of it in the inspired
word of God. When religious people exhibit the
true spirit of their profession, the credit is due to
their principles, but when they depart from  these,
Christianity is still to be judged by what it really is.




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   271
It may, however, be still urged by objectors that
the sacred Scriptures, as a divine revelation, have
measurably failed in their great object; that men
have not been made holy by their influence at all,
in proportion to the expectations we would form
of an inspired volume; and that fault is found not
so much with the teachings of Christianity as with
its apparent inefficiency in reforming men, and
even in sanctifying the lives of its own disciples.
It must be confessed that this is a imost important
view of the matter, and one that cannot properly
be discussed within the brief limits to which we
are here confined. Yet a few suggestions may
weaken perhaps the force of the objections.
The inefficiency of any system is not to be decided by what men may really expect, but by what
they should justly expect. If any man will look
into the Bible, lie will find that it makes no pretensions to form upon earth a pure and spotless
Church. It proceeds all the way through upon the
principle that many men will conform themselves
but partially to its teachings, asserts that many will
reject them altogether, and warns its readers both
against unbelief and formality. It declares that
the wheat and tares must grow together till God
himself shall separate them, exhibits plainly the
failings and faults of the best of men, and indeed
gives us views so dark of man's entire depravity as
may keep us from being surprised at any outbreak
of human sinfulness. So, that while unblemished




272            LIFE OF DAVID.
purity of Christian character is no more than God's
law of right demands, yet the exhibition of such
a character is far more than God's word leads us to
anticipate.  And as we are here taught that Christian sanctification is promoted by the truth, it is
natural to judge that the purity-of any man's life
and character will be in due proportion to his
growth in the knowledge of the Bible and to the
carefulness with which he brings its truth to bear
upon his conscience. We are not warranted by the
teachings of the Bible nor by the observations of
experience to presume that persons professedly religious- will always be faithful to learn all they
should from these divine teachings, nor to put in
practice these salutary teachings when they have
been made acquainted with them.
And these further thoughts may be expressed in
reference to the alleged want of power in Christianity to effect what we might reasonably expect
of it:
1st. The religion of the Bible never proposes to
make any man a servant and follower of God
against his own consent. Every man who receives
or rejects the gospel of Christ does so in the exercise of his own will.  While God governs men
efficiently for his own will, it is yet so as to leave
them  entirely voluntary.  Unless we wish to find
fault with this, and to say that religion ought to be
a matter of compulsion, it seems a necessary inference that the faults of voluntary agents should be




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   273
laid at their own doors, and that Christianity, as it
in nowise teaches or favours the sins of men, should
be held in nowise accountable for them.
2d. Even the most prejudiced opposer of Christianity cannot deny that it has reclaimed many
men even from the widest departures from truth
and the lowest degradation; that it has formed
many most excellent characters in the world; that
it has elevated the tone of morals and the standard
of comfort in every land where it has been introduc(ed; that the human race is now enjoying the
largest measure of liberty, intelligence and civilization just in those lands where the Bible is most
freely circulated; and. that no community ever has
received its teachings without improvement in
virtue and happiness.
3d. Nor can any man deny that the neglect of
the Bible always attends upon vice, and that the
more any man is really acquainted with it and
cherishes a true love for it, the holier is the influence exerted upon his character and doings. Men
never become infidels by a serious study of the
evidences of Christianity; nor profane by carefiully reading the Bible; nor licentious by punctuality at church; nor drunkards by loving the place
of prayer. The steps to these vices turn all away
firom the sanctuary of God, and men enter into
temptation by looking off firom the Bible.  Making all due allowance for men who have sinister
motives for professing to be religious, did any man
18




27 4           LIFE OF DAVID.
in the wide world ever believe that a Christian was
sincerely attached to his Bible and lose confidence
in him for that reason?  It is not the man who
really and cDntinually brings himself under the
influence of the Bible that is prone to bring reproach upon piety. Such men may fall, we do not
doubt, for they are yet sinful men, but the tendency
of their religion is most assuredly all the other
way. If it was while carefully attending to the
teachings of the Bible, and in the very act of following out injunctions, that these men were found
sinners, then the blame might justly be laid at the
door of Christianity.  If even it could be said that
every professor of piety was intelligent, diligent,
humble, earnest and prayerful as he ought to be,
we might think these faults flowed from their faith.
But a just and can(lid examination of the matter
will compel any upright mind to decide that religious people bring reproach upon Christianity only
in those cases where they act in neglect of her
teachings or in defiance of her authority. Unless,
then, we assert that they should in some way be
compelled to do right, we ought to lay the blame
of wrong upon them individually.
4th. We may further remark that Christianity
more than any religious system, and the Church of
God more than any other association upon earth,
are liable to be reproached for the deficiencies and
faults of men that come under their influence; and
that, instead of wondering that so many depart




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   275
from the faith, it is rather a matter of wonder that
the departures are not wider and more frequent.
Unless we look for a moral miracle in every case
of alleged conversion, such as neither the Bible nor
our experience warrants us in expecting, we should
anticipate many backslidings and apostasies from
religion. The very charity and mercy of the gospel
sometimes become a snare.  It was a matter of
reproach against the Lord Jesus Christ that he frequented the society of publicans and sinners. He
justified his practice in this respect-that they
above all others needed his care, and were disposed
to avail themselves of it. And the apt illustration
which he gives forces us to recognize the validity
of his plea. It is that of a physican, whose duty,
of course, lies not with the well but with the sick,
and whose presence in the most filthy and contagious and even disreputable abodes is justified by
the objects that have called him there. The same
plea precisely has Christianity.  Her beneficent
influences are always exercised toward sinners;
every man whom she blesses was first a lover of
iniquity; and some, before they come under her
influence, have formed habits of sin deeply inveterate and even deeply degrading. Of course, reproach upon the Church is most likely to flow
from those whose previous habits have the strongest power over them. And yet we can easily decide
that reproach is often cast upon the Church for receiving to her communion certain persons who have,




276            LIFE OF DAVID.
afterward proved unworthy, when in reality all the
dealings of the Church with such persons are characterized by the strictest disinterestedness and
purity-are prompted by the largest benevolence,
and, justly understood, reflect the highest honour
upon her aim and proceedings. It is not at all a
surprising thing that unworthy persons find their
way into the membership of the Church. It is
rather wonderful that the proportion is not larger
than smaller; and the only just reproach to which
the officers of the Church are subject is when they
have failed to exercise due care in admitting persons, or when they are indisposed with fidelity to
administer discipline-to rebuke or exclude from
the privileges of the Church an unworthy person.
And the censure they may receive here is not without its important extenuating circumstances.
We may illustrate this matter by a simple example. Let us suppose that a man of a dissipated
and profligate character is brought under the sound
of the gospel; his sins are exposed; his conscience
is awakened; he begins to pray, to form resolutions
of repentance, and to associate himself with the
people of God. They are perhaps surprised, but
certainly they are glad to see these new things.
They feel disposed to overlook the past, to feel
leniently toward his errors, and to judge charitably
of his professed amendment. They are disposed
to take him by the hand, to sympathize with him
and to encourage him in every possible way.




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   277
KInowing, indeed, that they have something to lose
if he should prove himself unworthy, they are
carried away by the benevolent consideration that
he has everything to gain if his professed change
of character should prove real, and they hope that
the fellowship and sympathy and counsel of Christians, and his new engagements of piety, will be of
good service inll fortifying him against temptation
and in strengthening his hands to do right. Possibly the rulers of the Church sometimes hope in
such cases upon too little grounds; but surely this
is an amiable and charitable side to err upon. WVhat
marvel is it if those too sanguine hopes, even when
most carefulfly indulged, should sometimes be disappointed?  We cannot search the heart, nor accurately unravel the web of human deceit or hypocrisy. Who can justly wonder if, among those
received to the membership of the Church, some
have never experienced a change of heart? Or,
even if renewed, who can justly expect that the
dominion of vices so long having the mastery
should at once be thoroughly broken? And it is
obvious that the Church is liable to be deceived in
many who have been under the influence of vices
unsuspected and undiscovered, till some retributive
providence brings them forth to the shame of the
transgressor and the sad reproach of religion. But
put these defections of church members in their
very worst form, and multiply them as you may,
so long as Christianity gains no advantage from




2'78           LIFE OF DAVID.
them, gives no approval to them, is betrayed into
her connection with them only by her efforts to do
good, and has no apologies to offer for their shame
and sin, these things are really no stain upon her
principles, and afford no argument against her truth
and her divine original.  Christianity is more
liable to these reproaches than any other system
that professes to do good to men, because she
stoops lower, is ever ready to help the most vile
and wretched, and entertains hopes where others
give up in despair.  But Christianity is no more
justly chargeable with the failure of her efforts to
do good-as if this failure was the legitimate result
of her principles-than is the physician who undertakes the treatment of desperate disease responsible
for the power of the disease, since his efforts are all
directed to ameliorate and control it.  The reproach
against the Church of Christ for the inconsistency.
of religious professors would be less if the Church
would refuse her countenance and sympathy to all
that have severe struggles with temptation, and if
she would receive none but persons of mature age,
of good reputation and of well-established principles.  But this would be to give up the most
precious design of the Church.  She ought to help
the weak, to strengthen the wavering, to counsel
the tempted, and to stand by those that are in
danger, even if she does sometimes soil her garments by venturing into the abodes of sinfulness.
Her reproach is really her honour when it springs




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   279
from  such a source.  If a physician. through a
morbid fear of losing his patients, never went near
a sick bed, it would be no more excessive caution
than for Christianity to stand back from sinners lest
haply some of them should give occasion to her
enemies to blaspheme.
We urge, then, that all existing and even all
possible defects of professing Christians are no just
argument against the truth of Christianity. These
things flow not from  her principles; and as she
does not propose to make even Christians perfectly
holy in this life, nor to compel any man to do
right, they do not spring from any failure of what
Christianity is designed to effect.
But let us pass to another important remark on
this subject.  As these defections and inconsistencies in religious people are no just ground of reproach against religion itself, so they are no proper
excuse in any man for his neglect of the claims of
religion upon himself personally; but rather when
any man has magnified to the utmost the deficiencies
of religious persons, he has but constructed the
more powerful argument to urge his own duty and
to constrain him to accept and adorn the gospel.
It is an obvious principle that no man can detect the inconsistencies of Christians unless he is
acquainted with the laws they ought to obey. For
inconsistency has reference to a law, and hypocrisy
has reference to a profession.  If I say six times
five are forty, a man must know the multiplication




280            LIFE OF DAVID.
table or he cannot correct the error. If any man
does not know my law, he cannot discern my inconsistencies; if he does not know what my profession demlands, he cannot discover my hypocrisy,
no matter how far I depart from it. Thus it is
only so far as a man is acquainted with the requirements of Christianity that he can find fault with
inconsistent Christians; and when he does find
fault, his very censure implies that the law is better than the conduct; that Christianity is better
than Christians; in other words, slightly to change
Paul's language, if he sees us do what he allows
not, he consents unto the law that IT is good. All
these censures go upon the tacit acknowledgment
that if Christians would only come up to their own
standard, no fault could be found with them. The
principles of Christianity are faultless, even in the
eyes of' these cavillers. Well, now we may fairly
retort upon these men, Why do you not come up
to this law yourselves?  You can no more be right
than I in asserting that five times six are forty.
You are no nearer right than I in neglecting the
duties which religion lays upon you. God is your
Creator as well as mine; his law binds you as well
as me; you should believe his gospel as well as I;
duty and gratitude and interest are equally laid
upon you. You complain that I and others in
the Church of God are inconsistent and do not set
you a right example. But why do you not come
into the Church and set us a right example? You




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   281
are naturally as much bound to set me a right example as I am to set you; you are as much bound
to labour for the salvation of my soul as I am for
yours; the calls of the Redeemer are made as
plainly in ySour ears as they are in mine; you can
get as many blessings from the gospel as I can;
and seeing that you are acquainted with the duties
of Christian life, there is no just reason why you
should stand aloof. You talk about hypocrites in
the Church as if such a character might not be
found nearer home.  First cast the beaml out of
thine own eye. If you are able to discover a mote in
another's eye, if you can discern even the trivial
faults of Christians, how is it that you overlook so
large a sin as the utter refusal to submit to the
gospel of Christ yourself?
We do not say these things because finding fault
with others or comparing our sins with theirs ever
benefits our own souls. If men out of the Church
have sins, this does not justify the inconsistencies
of religious persons, and the faults of Christians
do not justify the sins of others. But when men
urge that, with such principles, we ought to be
better than we are, how can they avoid the conclusion that for them to embrace our principles would
make them  also better?  "Thou therefore that
judgest another condemneth also thyself," for you
are lacking in the very things which you charge as
faults upon them. You do not make the rule
which God has prescribed your guide in duty, and




2822           LIFE OF DAVID.
at the judgment-seat of Christ it will not be asked,
" How  lany inconsistencies could you discern in
the character of another?" But the inquiry will
be, " How fully were you acquainted with your own
duty, and how nearly did you approach the full
discharge of it?" If every living Christian was
a disgrace to the Church of Christ, and you knew
it, that knowledge would only make it more important for you to vindicate in the eyes of all men the
true principles of Christianity, and to exemplify
them by your own godly life. So, then, the more
reason any man has to find fault with religious people, the more obligation he is under to embrace the
gospel himself and to rescue its fair fame from the
reproaches cast upon it. Nor can any one possibly
construct an excuse from  the wickedness of the
world or of the Church that will be wise enough and
strong enough to justify his own palpable neglect
of duty. For indeed the stronger the excuse is, the
more thoroughly does it render himself inexcusable.
But we may conclude these reflections with a, few
additional practical thoughts:
ist. It is important for professing Christians to
feel that they cannot too carefully avoid the very
appearance of evil. Our duty binds us to live a
holy and upright life, and much depends upon the
conduct of religious people as recommending religion. Other men may indeed judge harshly, or
draw wrong inferences from correct judgments; we
may not justify his sin who stumbles over the




FAULT FOUND WITH CHRISTIANS.   283
errors of others to his own destruction; yet it is
true that the cause of piety is identified with the
characters of those who profess it, and much mischief flows from their ill conduct. Let every upright man avoid the disposition to vindicate in himself or his brethren faults which really ought not
to be vindicated; let him bear with meekness the
reproaches which he is conscious are deserved.
But let him, in view of the exaggerated and even
unjust censures which the world loves to put forth,
be more watchful and careful to give no just occasion to reproach. Let each man, more earnestly
than ever, study the principles and spirit of the
word of God, Le more devoted to the service of
his Lord, be more entirely dependent upon divine
grace, and endeavour more in his own sphere to
adorn the doctrine of God his Saviour in all
things.
2d. It is neither a happy nor a useful disposition
in any man to be prone to find fault with others or
to magnify their deficiencies. We are not indeed
to approve of wrong, nor even to be indifferent
while truth suffers reproach and men depart from
the path of duty. But if indifference is wrong,
censoriousness is not right; especially every man
should be careful how he censures while his ownneglects of duty are palpable before God and man.
" With  what judgment ye judge, ye shall be
judged; and with what measure ye mete, it shall
be measured to you again."




284            LIFE OF DAVID.
3d. As every man is to give an account of himself
to God, we close this discussion by urging that each
reader should turn his thoughts in upon himself.
We all enjoy many privileges in common.  TWe
have the teachings of the same divine word, the
calls of the same gospel, and duties substantially
alike.  A like concern should fill each heart.  This
Bible is as holy for one as another; there is the
same God over all rich in mercy; the same law
with its holy and inflexible claims; the same immortality, reasonableness and sinfulness of soul;
the same mercy-seat; the same invitations of the
gospel; the same duty of faith in the Lord Jesus
Christ; the'same glorious and everlasting heaven
inviting, and the same solemn warnings of an awful and an eternal hell. It is a matter of deep importance that other men should do their duty-especially that religious persons should live consistently.
But for every man the mnost important pressing
matter is a personal one. Let it so dwell upon our
thoughts. This gospel is true, it is worthy of our
thoughts, and our duty and our interest call us to
embrace it.  Other men may be wrong; this is a
great pity.  If we can do anything to set them
right, we ought to do it. But let each man's
thoughts and prayers and earnest efforts be called
forth to set himself right. No possible apology,
drawn from the example of others, can atone for
your neglect of your own duty. " If thou be wise,




FAULT FOUND WITH  CHRISTIANS.    285
thou shalt be wise for thyself; and if thou scornest,
thou alone shalt bear it."
NOTE. —Those who would read more upon the subject of
these pages are invited to consider five posthumous discourses
of Dr. Andrew Thompson, of Edinburgh, in which some of the
thoughts here given are forcibly presented, and many others
of deep importance.




CHAP rER XV,
THfZE TREIASON OF ABSALOM.
fHERE was one phrase of Nathan's rebuke to
David which doubtless sank deep in his heart,
and which rose again from time to time, with the
gaze and the tone of the prophet, before the mind
of the transgressor, as he learned by repeated experience the meaning it conveyed. In the multitude
of words we hear, many things are necessarily forgotten, but every now and then we hear expressions
that become a part of our life and are never long
out of our memory. Sometimes these are trifling
words, ministering only to frivolity; sometimes
they are polluting, and impress images upon the
mind from which every wise man would gladly
turn away his gaze; sometimes they are instructive, and the words of the wise, in a brief expression,
control our life for many years and shape our destinies for an eternal existence; sometimes they are
the terms of warning and reproof, that especially
recur to us as they find their fulfilment in our
bitter experience. How often then did David remember the words of:Nathan!-" I will raise up
evil against thee out of thine own house." As
286




TREASON OF ABSA.LOM.            287
trouble after trouble rose in answer to these words,
the memory recalled them  more forcibly, the conscience vindicated their justice and the understanding fathomed better their solemn meaning.  And
if it is our place to acknowledge that the future
experience of David flowed naturally from  his
crime; if we reason that the wisdom of God, as
well as his justice, here shows to the world a dreadful warning against sins so great, it is safe also to
sympathize with David, considered as a penitent,
and we may judge that from this time forth we can
enter more fully into the sorrows that rise before
us.  For whatever public aspects belong to the
occurrences hereafter to engage our thoughts, there
is a domestic interest in them that affects our' hearts.
For David as a king we may feel but little sympathy. The monarch is lifted above his subjects and
is separated from them; much more may a foreign
people care little for a distant monarch of a distant
age.  But here David comes before us as a father;
and the relations of the household are as tender
now as ever, and we can feel for one who suffers as
we may understand.  The sorrows of the parent
elicit an attention. It is in the very nature of man
to sympathize with suffering, and we are prone to
lay aside-even sometimes too much-all thought
of the cause of a man's suff'erings, to feel with him.
It is not right so to sympathize with a criminal as
to forget or even palliate his crime, or to free hinm
from the just sentence of the law for his sin, yet




288             LIFE OF DAVID.
there is a measure of sympathy even where the
sufferer deserves his pains.
W5e say no more of the grief of David as Deatll's
dark shadow is first cast upon the halls of his palace through his great sin, and as shame and violence
break in afterward with ruthless step, for these are
but the little cloud that shall gather over that palace in a dense and wide tempest of sorrow.
It is a truth often felt that in this world of grief
and disappointment-should we not add, in this
world of' sin?-our most poignant sorrows spring
out of our most precious blessings, and where we
have looked for our largest comforts we have found
our severest trials.  How needful the caution of
our sacred poet:
"Lean not on earth:'twill pierce thee to the heart.
A broken reed at best, but oft a spear,
On whose sharp point Peace bleeds and Hope expires."
We read the chapter of David's sorrows, and we
find none comparable to those which he suffered
from  the hand of Absalom.  Yet of all the sons
of David up to this time no one seems to have
been superior to Absalom. We say nothing now of
Solomon, the only other son whorn the sacred writers bring before us with any degree of prominence,
for he was but a babe at this period of the history;
and born after David's forgiveness, he at least bore
no part in the calamities brought upon his father.
But not a few reasons are suggested in the narrative itself for a peculiar pride and fondness in David




TREASON OF ABSALOM.            289.
toward Absalom; and we can see that these were.
reasons tending to form the character of the young
man rather for evil than for good-rather for pride,
ambition and vanity than for virtuous aspirations.
The mother of Absalom was the royal bride in the:
family of David, and this son alone could boast
that his descent was kingly from  both parents.
We do not forget David's first marriage with the.
daughter of Saul, but Michal bore no children.
Ml\oreover, Absalom  was a man of great personal
beauty.  "In all Israel there was none to be so
much praised as Absalom for his beauty; from the
sole of his foot even to the crown of his head there,
was no blemish in him." 2 Sam. xiv. 25. Add
now to this that the mother of Absaloin was perhaps the only Gentile wife of David, and that her.
only son was perhaps often, as we know he was
once, a welcome guest at the heathen court of his
grandfather, and we easily see the elements of trouble early sown in the character of this prince.
How great is the mistake of parents who foster in
their children exalted ideas of their superior birth,
who flatter their vanity upon the beauty of their
persons or their attire, and especially who suppose
that any union of external advantages and polished
address can make amends for the neglect of the
hidden virtues of the heart, and for disregard of
that piety toward God which lies at the foundation
of all the rest! Whatever may be the reason for
it, we have too much reason to fear that David's
19




290            LIFE OF DAVID.
sons did not walk in the footsteps of their father.
David himself mourns that, though his desire was
so, his house was not with God as he wished. 2
Sam. xxiii. 5. The only pious child of David-so
far as we know-was Solomon, and it is instructive
to remember that he was born after these troubles
began. In parental duty, as elsewhere, perhaps
David could say, "Before I was afflicted I went
astray; but now have I kept thy word." Perhaps
we have the key to Absalom's training in what is
said of Adonijah, who was a younger brother of
Absalom. His father had not displeased him at
any time in saying, "'Why hast thou done so?"
If thus he trained Absalom, we can scarcely wonder at his character, his conduct and his end as they
are set before us in these pages.
The children of Maacah, the daughter of Talmai,
king of Geshur, were two-Absalom  and Tamar.
Absalom had four children. One daughter showed
his affection for his afflicted sister by bearing her
name; and three sons, but these sons, at least,
seem to have died early, for we read of a pillar
erected by Absalom  to  keep his name in remembrance because he had  no sons. We do
not rank very high the capacity of this prince,.
but his personal manners, to which every man
owes much of his influence, were polished and
highly pleasing. The language of the scriptural
writers is so simple that we scarcely realize the rank
in living society which as held by the men thus




TREASON OF ABSALOM.           291.napmed.'We hardly think of Absalom as a prince
in the realm of Judah, as entertaining lofty ideas
of his importance and as ambitious of distinction
and even of the throne.
We can scarcely wonder at the indignation
aroused in the breast of Absalom by the wicked
conduct of his half-brother, Amnon; and though
we may wonder that he so long delayed his revenge,
we are less amazed that he did not suffer the outrage to go unpunished. The delay, however, seems
to reveal that Absalomn was not a quick-tempered
and hasty man. His revenge was of that cool and
deliberate kind that never forgets an injury, that
can use dissimulation to cover over the real feelings
of his heart, and that smiles upon the victim it is
only desirous to entrap. When the hour comes,
he is ready to go any length to secure his end, but
till he is ready every overt act is kept back. It is
possible that in the first burst of anger a hasty
word escaped of his design against Amnon, for it
turns out in the end that when the deed was done,
his cousin, Jonadab, the same wicked man who
had advised the incest of Amnon, knew also before that Absalom had resolved to slay the insulter.
This long-cherished purpose was accomplished
amidst the reconciliation and friendship. David
himself, with all the king's sons, was invited to a
feast. The great expense of such entertainments,
especially when the king was present, induced
David to decline the pressing invitation; but Am



292.           LIFE OFF DAVID.
non was among the company, and -- c the grn.t
dismay of the guests he was slain in the midst of
the feast. A panic was immediately created. Perhaps it was thought that the ambitious Absalom
designed to put out of his way every rival for the
throne, and a swift messenger brought tidings to
David that all the king's sons were slain.
The refuge of Absalom was with his maternal
grandfather, the king of Geshur.  He remained
there three years, greatly to the grief of David,
who tenderly loved him, but who would not recall
him in token of displeasure for his offence. But
Joab, who seems to have been attached to Absalom,
perceiving that the father's heart was tender toward
his son, devised a method of securing the return
of Absalom. He sent a cunning woman to David
as if to present a petition for the benefit of her
own distressed family. The king appears in a very
favourable light as listening to her request, and
promising her the wished-for relief. But no sooner
did she make the attempt to apply the parable
than the king understood the object she had in
view; and so well did he understand the mind of
Joab that he traced his hand in all this thing. He
allowed the return of Absalom, but refused to allow
him to come near the palace. This kind of lifedwelling in Jerusalem, yet not allowed to see the
king-was irksome to the young man. Even his
friend Joab refused to meet him when requested to
do so. But when Absalom used stringent means




TREASON OF ABSALOM.           293
to secure a visit, he consented to plead with the
king in his behalf; and the young man was restored
to his father's favour and to his place at court.
It is not unlikely that his three years' sojourn in
the royal court of his grandfather had filled the
mind of Absalom with vain and ambitious
thoughts. His mother's kindred may have urged
that none of David's sons were so fit as he to sit
upon the throne; and doubtless during his discontented sojourn in Jerusalem, when he was not allowed to see his royal father, he found company
suited to the state of his mind, and in this society
he gradually became prepared to entertain treasonable designs against his father's throne.  When
men, by constraint or willingly, are thrown much
among one particular class of people, and have
their thoughts run in certain channels, it is almost
of necessity that they get partial views of society,
and put too high an estimate upon the things that
most interest themselves. So long as Absalom was
denied the favour of his father, his most likely
companions would be those who felt that the king
had injured them, and who were therefore disaffected toward his government.  Every monarch
must of necessity have such around him, for wisdom and justice often give offence as great as the
opposite vices, since few men are willing to acknowledge the justice of decisions or appointments that
are contrary to their interests. But unhappily, in
addition to the occasion taken for offence for unjust




294            LIFE OF DAVID.
reasons, David had given just grounds for disaffection to some of his subjects. With these discontented persons Absalom was likely to be familiar,
and the affairs of the kingdom  would take the
complexion of their thoughts. As they were disaffected; as the more they consulted upon the subject, the more they felt so; as their sense of injury
was aggravated by dwelling upon it, —so they magnified the discontents of the nation, and easily
persuaded themselves that the tribes of Israel were
restive under the yoke of David, and that they
would be ready at once to overturn the throne, if
only an able and popular leader was ready, around
whom they might rally, and whom  they might
salute as king.
Perhaps these men had reasons to judge that a
rebellion could easily be raised up in the land. In
point of fact, we find afterward the conspiracy became very strong with Absalom, and there was
some difficulty in quelling it, even after the death
of its leader. It may be that the wars of David,
though of many valuable results, were felt to be
oppressive upon the kingdom. By them the boundaries of the kingdom had been enlarged; a large
spoil had been brought into Judah; the precious
metals had been brought into circulation more than
ever before; and the style of living had advanced
as the nation became more wealthy. But we can
easily judge that both during the reign of David
and that of Solomon the burden of taxation was




TREASON OF ABSALOM.            295
severely felt, in addition to the levies of men and
the loss of so many in battle.  For, with all the
success of David, he seems not to have relied upon
his spoils for maintaining the government.  He
laid aside the immense treasures of gold and silver
and brass as so much in readiness for the splendid
temple which his successor was to build. It would
add to the discontents of the people that these sums
were laid aside for an enterprise they could scarcely
appreciate, while yet they were made to feel the
burdens of the government.
But perhaps personal discontent had much to do
with their rising troubles.  The chief man among
the conspirators with Absalom  seems to have been
Ahithophel, the Shilonite.  We have mentioned
this man before as the grandfather of Bathsheba, and
in this perhaps we find the causes of his disaffection. It becomes us to notice how, in the retributive operations of Providence, the sin of David
comes back repeatedly upon him.  His sin was not
only a moral offence of the gravest kind, but it was
also highly impolitic.  Here we see evidence that
he has given dangerous offence to one of the principal men of his court.  Ahithophel is represented
as the wisest man of his time. His penetrating
mind and his long experience rendered his counsels.almost infallible for their wisdom. In the strong
language of the inspired writer, the counsel of
Ahithophel, which he counselled in those days, was
as if a man had inquired at the oracle of God; so




296:          LIFE OF DAVID.
was all the counsel of Ahithophel, both with David
and with Absalom. That he was a wicked man at
the same time that he was wise is sufficiently
proved by his tragical end; and it furnishes us with
an instance of that which we often see in the world
around us —that pride of intellect is an enemy dangerous to the spiritual interests of man.
Yet, while we may believe that there were discontents in Israel of' which these men would take
advantage, it is not likely they were widely spread;
the more sanguine minds among the discontented
would naturally aggravate them, but the subsequent counsels of Ahithophel sufficiently show that
he was well aware how desperate was their undertaking to overthrow the throne of such a man as
David. There was a dark side to his government,
as there ever will be to every government upon
earth. David had done things which no ruler
should do; he had given private indlividuals great
offence; but the opposition had looked only at their
grievances, and had forgotten that, upon the whole,
the nation at large had good reason to be satisfied
with David. He was a wise, a good, a righteous
king; over his faults he himself deeply mourned,
and in his virtues his people ought to have rejoiced.
He had found the kingdom weak and divided, he
brought it to union and strength; he had found
the people prone to idolatry and forgetful of their
covenant with God, and he had restored the tabernacle and the ark to their rank, and had established




TREASON OF ABSALOM.           297
the due order of Jehovah's worship; he had found
their enemies triumphant against his people, and
occupying a large portion of the land which God's
promise had given to Abraham, and he had made
the nation a first-rate military power, raised his
fame among all the lands around, and enlarged the
boundaries of Israel to the extent of God's ancient
covenant. It was a desperate undertaking, such as
discontent and' ambition would alone attempt; and
we see the cunning of Ahithophel in the first preparations that are made for it.
These preparations were made in the efforts of
Absalom to ingratiate himself with the people, and
without suspicion to alienate them from his father.
He affected a style of splendour such as had never
before been seen in Israel. The use of chariots
had been forbidden in their wars-perhaps in part
to repress the spirit of extravagance, and in part
because, in a mountainous land like Judea, wars are
best conducted by foot soldiers.  In one of David's
wars he had overthrown an army well supplied
with chariots, and he had reserved a few of those
taken upon the overthrow of Hadadezer, rather
for state occasions than for warfare. Perhaps Absalom had seen splendour like this in the court of
his grandfather, and he now began in Israel to imitate the style of foreign powers. In addition to this
magnificence of aristocracy, he assumed the condescending manners which among the common people
would gain him friends and admirers. Here we have




2-98           LIFE OF DAVID.
an ancient and graphic picture of a demagogue; the
union of intense pride of self and of station with
fawning sycophancy and studied  courtesy; the
union of ambitious schemes for personal advancenment with the most clamorous and busy pretensions for seeking the good of the dear people; the
careful stirring up of discontent with the existing
rule, and the ready willingness to give up the pleasures of private life to devote himself to the public
good. Such is the demagogue in any land or belonging to any party-corrupt wherever lie is found,
as ready for one side as the other if his interests so
point, and with all his pleasant smiles and fair
words unworthy of the confidence of any one. Absalom was diligent in his undertaking.  He rose
early and displayed his fine person and elegant
manners where men were wont to gather together.
Especially as the people from  the surrounding
country entered the city, he sought their acquaintance, inquired their business and sympathized with
the success of their various plans.. The petty
grievances of this or that man might have found a
ready listener in him, and the promise of redress is
a very easy thing to make when offices of power
and trust are sought rather than held. Tlhe princil)les of human nature are the same in all ages;
political wire-working is much the same thing under
any kind of government, and the complaisance of
a noble prince like Absalom easily won him popularity in Israel. Perhaps the part of Ahithophel




TREASON OF ABSALOM.            299
was to prevent or to watch all suspicions in the
mind of David; his position as a wise counsellor
gave him both influence and opportunity for this,
and their plans were ripe for execution before the
king knew what was going on. At tile precise
juncture when he was ready, Absalom asked the
kingD's leave to go to Hebron, and, that he might
the more easily secure this, pretended religious zeal.
lIe knew well that his father's heart was alive to
the service of God, and that he would be little
likely to refuse his son any favour when he thought
his request proceeded from religious convictions, or
that his granting it would give piety any more
power over his heart. Yet Absalom is but adding
an odious hypocrisy to the ingratitude and treason
he meditates. He took with him a body of two
hundred men who had not been made acquainted
with his designs; but he scattered the conspirators
through the kingdom, who were all at one time to
raise the standard'of revolt, and to give the movement an appearance as much as possible of a popular and general rising. His first aim was to secure
Hebron, which in all likelihood was, next to Jerusalem itself, the chief city and fortress of the kingdom.  It will be remembered that Hebron had
been the capital of David in the earlier years of
his reign, and this may have been among the reasons for making it the centre of the new operations.
Besides, having been a royal city even from the
times of the ancient Canaanites, and a city of ref



300            LIFE OF DAVID.
uge in Israel, HIebron was judiciously chosen for
his purposes.
The panic was great in Jerusalemn when it was
announced that Absalom had seized Hebron and
raised the standard of rebellion, and especially as
tidings came in that he had been simultaneously
proclaimed in different parts of the kingdom.  Indeed, the apparent fact that he was the eldest living
son of a king now growing old may have made
well-disposed citizens averse to taking any hasty
steps in opposition to him; and in the activity of
his friends the fears of David were highly excited.
We see extraordinary evidence of Absalom's apparent success in the movements of David.  IHe
immediately resolved to abandon Jerusalem-his
capital, his palace and the strongest fortress in the
kingdom; and this evidently not because lie feared
for the fortifications, but because he mistrusted the
faithfilness of the population.  In Jerusalem, Absalom had been practicing his arts, and he had won
the hearts of so many that David feared to trust
his own people. Accordingly we find when the
king went forth from the city he did not entrust
his protection to native Israelites.  It is one of the
proofs of the prosperity of religion in the times of
David and Solomon that we find so many foreigners in the land, and that some of them  at least
appear to have been drawn to the kingdom  by
religious considerations. The vital spirit of true
piety in all ages is evangelistic; and though the




TREASON OF ABSALOM.            301
Jewish Church was, for special reasons, separated
from the nations around, the Gentiles needed the
gospel from their hands then as much as they need
it now from ours. In obedience to the spirit of
true piety, the door of the Jewish Church lhad been
left open for the admission of proselytes, and so
long as the sins and wants of men outside of Judea
continued, and so long as the vital spirit of piety
remained in the Church, it was a necessary consequence that any revival of true piety in Israel
would bring in proselytes from the nations around.
Such a revival would operate just as revivals do
now. They prepare the minds of' men, inside of
the Church and, outside, for religious thoughtfulness; and no people can begin seriously to consider
these great matters without the uprising of piety.
When there is religion enough in a Church to attract the attention of the world and make men feel
their sinfulness and need, there will also be a spirit
of readiness to seek the good of others on the part
of the Church.
So was it in Israel in the days of David and
Solomon. The Church was not then free from all'
cause of blame, but they were the best (lays of Israelitish history.  No wonder that many from
among the heathen around then longed to leave
their polluting idolatries and to take shelter under
the protection of the God of Jacob; and if then
the Church had not the missionary spirit that now
belongs to her, yet there was not a pious heart in




302            LIFE OF DAVID.
Israel that would not welcome the poor stranger
to share in their inheritance and to worship at the
altar of their God. We have had previous occasion to remark that some of the mighty men of
David's army-Uriall among the number-were
converted heathen; and it would seem that some
of the chosen troops of David's army were composed of these foreigners, who formed separate
regiments, and were relied upon for their valour,
their discipline and their faithfulness in times of
deepest peril.  David's chosen guards were the
Cherethites, the Pelethites and the Gittites; and
in this hour of trial, when he leaves Jerusalem, he
distrusts his native subjects and will not rely upon
native troops.  Some commentators have found it
hard to believe that these celebrated guards were
foreigners, but the chief ground of their objection
-namely, that David would not commit himself to
the care of uncircumcised men-is removed by understanding that they were proselytes to the Jewish
faith, and thus naturalized in Israel.  It is not
unlikely that David first formed these guards
while Saul was yet alive; that they had supported
him now for many years; that they were the veterans of the army; and indeed, in an age and region
where standing armies were almost unknown, that
they were the only organized and disciplined forces
in the land. If we look at the homes of these
troops, we find one regiment of Gittites, and the
brief declaration that they followed him from Gath,




TREASON OF ABSALOM.           303
the place of his former refuge. We find another
of Cherethites, the name of a tribe of Gentiles
whom David had attacked and spoiled, and from
whose captive children, it is possible, he had formed
this band.
While relying, however, upon these veterans, the
king also received some proofs of warm attachment to him on the part of the people of Jerusalem. Indeed, notwithstanding his fears, a large
part of the population went forth with him, bitterly
bewailing the calamity that had come upon the
kingdom and their venerable monarch. One man
is mentioned especially-as showing an attachment
which the king scarcely expected. This was Ittai,
the Gittite, a man who for some reason had fled
from his native country and become an exile at the
court of David. That he was a man of some distinction appears from the fact that he had with
him a body of men whom he joined to the king's
forces, and that David gave hlim a high rank in his
army. That he had not been long in the country
is plain from David's own words; yet he seems to
have learned the language of an Israelite and to
have been sincerely. attac.hed to the afflicted king.
It was doubtless a great support to the feelings
of David in this time of deep trouble that upon
his side were the priests of the Lord. As he
passed out of the city he found that preparation
had been made, according to the due order of the
sanctuary, to carry forth also the ark of God. The




304            LIFE OF DAVID.
priests, Zadok and Abiathar, with the Levites in
their proper places, according to the ancient regulations, set down the ark that the people might all
pass by it, after which it was to bring up the rear.
This act of the priests displayed not only attachment to David and zeal for good order in the state,
but just regard for the interests of religion.  For
the spread of piety had little to hope for in the
success of an usurper who was to wear his crown in
defiance of his duty to his father and of the will of
God; and Absalorn has as yet given no tokens that
religion would flourish under his rule. Piety does
not bestow political foresight, nor do the ministers
of religion always discern what is for the good of
the state; yet it is of great importance, especially
in times of revolution, that the side of truth and
righteousness should have the support of all good
men.




CHAPTER XVI.
THE PROGBRESS OF THE REBELLrION.
AT  the close of our last chapter we left the
king, surrounded by a weeping multitude,
passing out of the city of Jerusalem, in full flight
from the rebel armies. This is an hour of deep
affliction for David, and we may well sympathize
with him  as lie went up the ascent of Mount
Olivet, with his head covered and his feet bare in
token of his mourning, and the people around
giving every token of grief. There is one remarkable spot upon the Mount of Olives, where it rises
abruptly to the east from the ravine of the Brook
IKedron, from which the eye can command a complete and advantageous view of the city. A thou.sand years after this the greater Son of David
stood here and gazed upon the beautiful city spread
out before him, and wept over her sins, her hardness of heart, her rejection of mercy and her coming desolations. From  this same spot, it may be,
did David now look down in grief and anguish.
He saw the city he had established, the palace he
had built and the people he had loved, and from
all now he must go forth a throneless exile. He
20                                305




306            LIFE OF DAVID.
had been homeless and an exile before, but that
was in the days of his youth and vigour, when he
was inured to hardship; and this was in his old age,
and after he had long forgotten the privations and
fatigues of such a life. And everything combined
to point with bitterness the sting that now entered
the soul of DI)avid.  His own people, for whom lhe
had done so much, whose prosperity he had proinoted, whose boundaries he had enlarged, and
whom his victories had set free from the fear of
their enemies, had now proved faithless. Yet more;
his own son was the author of his present troubles.
This son was tenderly loved, he had been delicately
reared, he had been dealt with leniently, and now
he has raised his ungrateful hand against his father.
But chiefly did David look back at the real origin
of these calamities.  Before his mind arose the
form of Nathan, and the words again rang in his
ears, " I will raise up evil out of thine own house."
Before his mind rose up his sin, and he knew that
but for this he would not now be an exile. This
was the chief bitterness of his present trial. In
his former exile David was supported by the consciousness of right. The sin belonged to Saul then.
It is far otherwise now. True, Absalom is not to
be justified, but David lacks the support of a hunble and righteous man.
But we see here a return to the earlier piety of
David. His expressions at this time are such as
to give proof that he has profited by the chastise



PROGRESS OF THE REBELLION.    307
ments which God's hand has laid upon him. And
here, let us notice, is a matter carefully to be considered as we look upon the troubled experiences
of life. The difference between godly and ungodly
men in this world is not so much a difference of
affliction as in the effect produced upon them by
affliction. David suffered afflictions when righteons and when innocent, and he bears both with a
pious mind. Trouble itself is no test of character;
it may come to the evil and the good; it may come
for reasons we cannot discern, as the earlier troubles
of David, or for reasons we can understand, like
these later troubles; but the manner in which we
endure afflictions is a test of character. To those
who are properly exercised by them they yield the
peaceable fruits of righteousness.
Let us look at the mind of the king as he goes
forth from Jerusalem and passes weeping up the
side of Olivet. Here are proofs of a meekness and
humility, of a patience and resignation, of a penitence and faith, that well become the stricken man
of God. He bade the priests carry back the ark
of God, and to remain themselves in the city. It
was doubtless to secure some advantages to David's
cause that Zadok and Abiathar had made this
movement. If the weight of the priesthood were
thrown on his side in the coming struggle, if the
ark itself was on his side, they perhaps hoped that
the pious part of the nation would join the same
party, or at least be averse to operating against




'308            LIFE OF DAVID.
David.  And doubtless the king well knew what
were the advantages he might hope to secure from the
presence of the ark.  Yet, either because he deemed
it unlawfull to take it forth in his wanderings, or
more likely as one who felt the frown of his God
upon him —because, humbled for his sins, he felt unworthy and indisposed to press his advantages to the
utmost-he bade the priests carry back the ark into
the city, and to abide there themselves with it.
Wie may regard this as an act of faith on the part
of David. It seems to express his confidence that
he should yet return to his capital and his palace,
and that then he should again enjoy the privileges
of the ark.  But it is not a presumptuous confidence. Resignation to the orderings of God's holy
will is more plainly expressed. He knew he was
now suffering the rebuke of God, and fears and
hopes mingle together in his words.  Faith trusts
that he shall return, but it also judges that the
Lord is righteous, and bows in resignation in contemplating another result as possible.  By a subsequent arrangement, as we shall see, the presence of
the priests in Jerusalem was made to subserve
David's interests.
As David passed up the side of the mountain,
he learned for the first time that the trusted Ahithophel was among  the conspirators.  The wise
counsels of this man seem to have been feared be-;-yond apy other power yet on the side of Absalom.
Whenl David heard of his defection, he uttered




PROGRESS OF THE REBELLION.         309
simply this ejaculatory prayer: "0 Lord, I pray
thee, turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishness!"  How wise this man's counsel was, and how
fully this brief prayer was answered, we will take
further occasion to notice. We may simply now remark in passing that David's example teaches us
how little excuse any man can have for neglecting
prayer. Here we may see that prayer is a spirit
rather than a form.  Let us have the form when
our circumstances will admit of it. If we can
enter our closet, if we can be alone with God, if
we can bow down on our knees before him, —these
are favourable circumstances to enable us to collect
our thoughts, to make us morer serious, and to
enable us to plead our cause with humility and fervency; and we should use all such advantages
when we can. But David teaches that when occasion calls for it we may pray in a crowd, we may
lift up the heart to God, we may offer but a single
sentence, and the prayer be accepted and answered.
Just at this moment another distinguished friend
of David came to meet himi and to join his march,
This was Hushai the Archite, one of David's counsellors. David immediately formed the plan of
defeating Ahithophel's counsels by counterplotting.
Having great confidence in Hushai, he urged that
he should go into the city and profess to be the
friend of Absalom, that he might give him counsels, apparently sincere, but designed in reality to
further the cause of David. No just theory of




310            LIFE OF DAVID.
morals can decide that plans of this nature are
upright, but, as war itself is but organized and
premeditated crime and wrong, we need scarcely
wonder if it is carried on by means that involve
both falsehood and insincerity.
The next man who is named as meeting the king,
a little farther on his way, was Ziba, the steward
of Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan. Taking the
whole narrative concerning these men, both now and
afterward, we may judge that David acted hastily,
perhaps harshly and unjustly, toward the son of his
early friend.  We can scarcely wonder, indeed, at
what he says here. Ziba met him  with refreshments and food, such as to show clearly his attachment to David, and in the very act of this he
utters a plausible but malicious slander against
Mephibosheth.  If we remember that Jonathan
was Saul's eldest son, and Mephibosheth his only
child, we may see that the regular descent of Israel's crown would have been to this man. At a
tine, then, when his own son was a traitor in arms
against him, David could easily believe the story
that the heir of Saul hoped to secure some advantage from these troubles in the land.  But it appeared afterward that this was a pure fiction on the
part of Ziba.  Indeed, this is such a world of slander that we can scarcely believe any tale we hear
of a neighbour, even when there are circumstances
that render it plausible; and if David now feels
that Mephibosheth has been ungrateful for his past




PROGRESS OF THE REBELLION.    311
kindness, many a time since has the slanderer or
talebearer disturbed the warmth of feeling in
friendly hearts; and the few necessary words of
explanation are not given because the causes of
alienation are never known, perhaps never suspected, by the slandered party. The son of Jonathan easily vindicated himself when an-opportunity
was afforded him. He had really sympathized with
David; he had designed to show this sympathy by
coming to him; but he was a cripple, and Ziba
had treacherously kept from him  the means of
coming.  The gratitude and faithfulness of this
son appears not only from his signs of mourning
so long as David was in trouble, but also by the
meekness with which he acquiesces in the division
of his estate with the unfaithful Ziba. It is harder
to reconcile David's decision in the case with either
wisdom or justice. If his previous judgment of
Aephiboshleth was hasty, it ought to have been reversed when he knew the truth. Ziba had rendered David service in a time of need, and there
was good reason for rendering him some reward.
But Ziba had spoken basely of his master, and that
was reason why his reward should be found elsewhere than by giving him half of Mephibosheth's
estate. But by these thoughts we anticipate the
narrative.
The same kind of anticipation is needful in our
mention of Shimei the son of Gera. This man is
an example of a time-server. Governed by no set



312            LIFE OF DAVID.
tied principles, but by the aspect of the times, he
here came forth to reproach David and to cast
curses upon him; and yet afterward, when the
kingdom was again in the hand of David, he was
among the first to show his zeal for the very man
he here curses. Perhaps we may look upon the
curses of Shimei as an example of the feeling which
may have dwelt in many minds in reference to
David. For the words of Shimei we may regard
not as expressing his own real sentiments, since he
so easily undoes all he is now doing, but as expressing his sense of the prevailing sentiment. Such
time-serving politicians sometimes overreach themselves as this man now did; yet are they generally
very careful to watch the way things are going
before they commit themselves. It is remarkable
that the reproaches of Shimei have no apparent
reference to David's great sin, but simply to his
reigning in the stead of Saul.
Though we may despise the man in view of all
the facts, we may regard it as rather a bold thing
for Shimei thus to curse David.  Nor did he do
this without danger. It would have cost him his
head, but for David's own forbearance; and even,after the restoration he was not out of danger.
Indeed, the final result was the death of Shimnei for
this crime, as we shall need to notice hereafter. But
now David is forbearing. It is not hard to see why.
Forbearance and forgiveness are virtues so nearly
allied to penitence that they always dwell together




PROGRESS OF THE REBELLION.         313
in the same heart. Never was such a sight seen
on earth as a revengeful penitent; but whenever a
man feels the need of the divine mercy toward his
own sins, he is little disposed to think harshly of
the offences that others commit against him..It is
divine philosophy that teaches, " If ye forgive not
men their trespasses, neither will your heavenly
Father forgive your trespasses." Beware of harsh
judgments, of pride, of revenge, of censoriousness,
lest to indulge such tempers proves your own
impenitence.  David was now  a penitent.  He
recognized the hand of God in these troubles; he
acknowledged that he deeply deserved them  all;
he did not venture to rebel in the least; and he is
willing to regard Shimei as rather an instrument in
the hand of God to afflict him.  Feeling keenly
under the afflictions laid upon him by his own sin,
he is little disposed to resist those offered by this
stranger. So, when the kingdom was restored to
him, he is willing still to overlook Shimei's offences, because he would not mar the festivities of a
joyful day.
In truth, however, there were two aspects of this
crime of Shimei, and by considering these we may
reconcile David's forbearance with the fact that he
afterward called the attention of Solomon to this
case, and bade him deal with Shimei in his wisdom.
David was a man, but he was also a monarch. It
might be right to do one thing at the prompting of
his private feelings, and yet another would be more




314            LIFE OF DAVID.
just and more wise to promote the public interests.
So far as the offence of Shimei was against David
personally, he was just in that humble frame of
mind that would prompt him to overlook it. But
forgiveness does not imply that the offence is not
considered grave; forgiveness implies a sense of
injury, since there is no room for pardon where no
offence is given.  The crime of Shimei was directly against the majesty of the Jewish throne;
he was himself, it is likely, a dangerous man, and
the king's feelings should not have overborne the
public interests. It is likely that his so dealing
with Shimiei was found to be a public wrong, and
it was in this view of the case that he called Solomon's attention to it. But his words on this occasion will in due time be considered.
David's journey was to the other side of Jordan.
Upon that part of the kingdom his reign had been
especially beneficial; he had enlarged the boundaries of Judea in that direction, and he looked for
the firmest support from that part of the people.
These were, perhaps, the wisest measures he could
have adopted; and as he passed on, his mind gradually gained greater confidence in God, so that he
was but little disturbed even when he heard the
possible plans of Absalom  and used means to
evade his power. The alarms that reached his
camp, the danger of his being taken in the night,
and his confidence in God are graphically set forth
in the third Psalm, which was written at this time.




PROGRESS OF THE REBELLION.         315;But we will leave the king for the present, and return to Jerusalem, where Absalom enters with the
triumph of a king.  It shows the dependence placed
upon Ahithophel that he is so expressly named as
accompanying Absalom. On the other hand, the
*grief of David at the loss of such a counsellor is
plainly set forth in the fifty-fifth Psalm.  If we
may regard this A hithophel as one held in reputation for his piety, as David seems there to teach
(v. 13, 14), then his was a fall through hypocrisy,
and a fall without recovery, even to his destruction. Absalom was surprised to see Hushai the
Archite in Jerusalem, and making overtures for
his friendship.  But while so many have forsaken
David, he seems to entertain no suspicion of deception.
The reputation of Ahithophel was so great that
we closely examine his counsel to know wherein
lay its wisdom.  We are shocked'at the wicked'conduct to which he advises Absalom.  Yet, respecti0ng it, we may notice these things: 1st. Here
David's past sin is brought to remembrance and
paid in kind.  As he has sown he reaps.  2d.
Here Nathan's words receive their fulfilment. This
is just as the prophet declared to him. 3d. Here
we see how the counsels of God secure his ends,
while yet the voluntary agency of man is not interfered with.  We can scarcely think that either Absalom  or Ahithophel thought of Nathan's words,
which they here fillfilled, as long afterward the




316            LIFE OF DAVID.
Jews ignorantly fulfilled the divine counsels in the
death of Christ.
But wherein consists the wisdom of Ahithophel's
counsel in.this case?  The wickedness of the matter is plain enough, but its wisdom is as plain if
we simply call to mind what wisdom is. True wisdom in its final results must be righteous, but so
far as wicked counsels can be wise we may say this
counsel was. If wisdom is the choice of suitable
measures to secure a certain end, then Ahithophel's
counsel was wise. No conduct more suitable to
the purposes of this shrewd man could Absalom
exhibit. Ahithophel had engaged now in a desperate undertaking, and he was resolved to succeed or
perish. Like a general who, on entering the field,
flings away his scabbard; like a sea captain who nails
his colors to the mast; as Cortes, with his band of
five hundred men,* landing on the shores of powerful and unknown nations, and resolving to make
deadly hostilities against them, had the art to persuade his companions to destroy their shipping, and
thus to shut themselves up to the desperate alternative of conquering or of dying upon that foreign
soil; so now Ahithophel would cut off for himself
and for Absalom and for Israel all hope of any reconciliation to David. He well knew the warm
attachment of David to Absalom; he knew that he
would be willing to make almost any sacrifice
rather than fight against his son; perhaps he feared
* Robertson's America, 211.




PROGRESS OF THE REBELLION.         317
also for the fickleness of Absalom himself, and for
the fear or affection of the people for the dethroned
monarch; and having full persuasion that all his
own hopes lay in the uncompromised success of the
rebellion, he had no thought of reconciliation,
knowing that he had for ever forfeited the respect
of David. Ahithophel, therefore, wishes to insult
David as grievously as possible; not a word of
treaty is heard between him  and Absalom; the
people are to understand that the die is cast, and
that an impassable gulf yawns between the contending rivals. We see thus that the counsel of Ahithophel was fully adapted to suit the case to which
he applied it.
Following out this desperate policy, Ahithophel
next counsels the most energetic measures to secure
the death of DRavid as speedily as possible. Here
again his wisdom seems not to fail him. He counsels prompt action.  The experience of all ages has
shown that nowhere is prompt and ready enterprise
more needful to success than in just such schemes
as this of Absalom. To defend a land from treason
or invasion, it may be wise in a commander to be
slow and cautious, for the double purpose of annoying the enemy by delay and by want of provisions, and of giving time to the loyal people of
the land to recover from  hasty alarms.  It was
highly important for the success of Absalom's
plans that the people of the land should have
little time to recover from their panic, that their




318             LIFE OF DAVID.
sober second thoughts should not get the mastery
in their minds, and that David and Joab should
have as little time as possible to gather troops.
A slight success on the part of the rebels at the
outset would be a great advantage, just as the people were in many places hesitating which side they
should choose. The counsel of Ahithophel was
wise, and this is proved by the effect produced in
David's camp when the spies brought intelligence
of it. He would have taken twelve thousand men,
and that very night strike for David's life, well
knowing that if lie was dead the strife must turn
in favour of Absalom.
One of the difficult problems of man's philosophy is here brought before us. David's prayer
was that the counsel of Ahithophel be turned to
foolishness, and the inspired writer tells us that
the "Lord had appointed to defeat the good counsel of Ahithophel, to the intent that the Lord
might bring evil upon Absalom."  Now, the question has been. asked a thousand times, How are the
counsels of God-so wise, so certain of accomplishment-consistent with the free agency of man?
But here, as elsewhere, there are certain great principles we know well-certain fhcts we can observe,
and yet in the understanding of their relations to
each other there are limits which we cannot pass.
We know that it is of great importance that man
should be a voluntary agent; we know that accountable action must be voluntary action; we




PROGRESS OF THIE REBELLION.        319
know by experience that we ourselves are free, and
no argument can really convince us that other
men are not also free. But we know also that
the importance is infinitely greater-indeed the
necessity is imperative —that God should be free,
able to carry out his plans, incapable of being
thwarted, and yet fully able to do all he desires
without interfering with the free nature he has
given to man. We see the facts plainly.  Absalom and his elders weighed the two counsels of
Ahithopliel and of IHushai the Archite, yet the
result is that they freely choose folly. There is no
wisdom nor counsel against the Lord. Our only
safety is in being upon the side of the Lord and of
right. When we fight against him he can make
our own counsels conspire for our defeat. Righteous men will not be disposed to complain of the
government which always favours them and causes
all things to work for their good, and the wicked'have ino right to complain if God overrules their
wickedness to secure their own destruction.
We need not vindicate the righteousness of
Hushai in this matter, but we may admire the
skill and wisdom of a man who could so readily
frame a plan to defeat the counsel of Ahithophel.
His plan did not lack its plausible features.  He
artfully joined with the temper of those about him
to counsel the utter destruction of David, but he
awakened their fears as to the ready success of the
proposed scheme to effect it.  Was it likely that a




320            LIFE OF DAVID.
veteran warrior like David would expose himself
to easy attack at such a juncture? WNas it likely
that a mighty man like Joab, who had never lost
a battle, could be easily surprised or overcome?
Could the rising cause of Absalom wisely venture
the risk of defeat in the first attack, and thus of
disheartening his troops and encouraging the royal
forces?  By suggestions like these, which had no.force to his own mind, Hushai succeeded in convincing the counsellors about Absalom that they
had better not attempt the bold plan of Alhithophel.
Hushai has given his counsel, but he does not
know that it will be followed. His next attempt
is to send tidings to David of the two counsels.
For this end, following the king's advice, he employed the two sons of the priests-one of whom
is afterward named as a swift runner-to carry the
tidings to the king, and his advice to secure himself in case the other counsel should be adopted.
It would seem that Absalom's guards had secured
the city to prevent the escape of any one with
tidings. But Hushai's wisdom had prepared for
this. The young men were already beyond the
sentinels, and a young woman, as little likely to be
suspected, was employed to take the word to them.
Thlle watchfillness of Absalom's friends may be
judged from the fact that even this movement was
noticed, and that night pursuit was made of the
spies-so closely behind them that they were nearly
taken. They found a safe hiding-place in a well




PROGRESS OF THE REBELLION.         321
that was so artfillly covered as to remain unsuspected, and after the pursuers departed they reached
the camp of David in safety. Of course the nature of their tidings was unknown to the men of
Absalom, or Hushai would have been put in peril.
No sooner is Ahithophel aware that his counsel
has been overruled than he forecasts at once the
disastrous issue of the rebellion.  It may have
been in part through mortification that Hushai
should be preferred to him, but it is quite as likely
it was because he discovered that this course would
be fatal to Absalom that he now despairs.  IHe
went home, put his house in order and hung himself. Died Ahithophel as a fool dieth. In his life
he had been famous for wisdom, and he set his
affairs in order in his last moments to show that
his intellect was sound; yet the folly of his death
can find no vindication at any tribunal of righteous
judgment. Be not surprised that a wise man should
do so foolish a thing. Remember that his was only
worldly wisdom. He had not learned the rudiments
in that sacred school whose first lesson is, "The fear
of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."  Among
heathen and infidel philosophers suicide has been
commended, and this of Ahithophel would be justified on their principles.  But Christianity knows
no circumstances that can vindicate the madness of
any man who dares to murder himself and to rush,
both unbidden and unprepared, into the presence of
God. Of all awful crimes that we can consider,
21




322            LIFE OF DAVID.
none is more flagrant than for a man to take his
own life. Of all the wretched forms of dying
which men have ever known, no wise man would
wish to follow in the lead of Ahithophel and Judas.
And there is another crime included in this, which
may be committed by men who die a natural death
-the greatest crime of all, the crime of destroying the never-dying soul. To commit this crime it
does not need that a man should follow the exact
footsteps of Ahithophel. We shudder at the sin
and folly of suicide. Shall any of us commit the
more common crime of destroying our own souls?
It may not be by the deliberate rejection of the
gospel of Christ. It may not be with the uttered
defiance of God upon our lips. It may be with
many serious thoughts of our duties to God-with
many purposes formed of repentance. It may be
by a simple neglect of the great salvation until the
calls of mercy cease to sound and we have entered
eternity unprepared. But, however it occurs, the
man who is lost from the sound of the gospel is a
self-murderer for eternity.
The arrangements for a great battle are succinctly
given. The forces of Absalom are entrusted to his
cousin Amasa, but another cousin, the indomitable
Joab, was comnmander-in-chief for David. Under
Joab, commanding each a third of the army, were
Abishai his brother, and the foreign general, Ittai
the Gittite. Absalom went forth in person, but
David's men would not allow lin to go into the




PROGRESS OF THE REBELLION.    323
battle. David was still tender in his love for his
erring son; especially, perhaps, he could not endure
the thought of his death-not only a rebel against
his father, but a rebel against his God. He gave
commandment, therefore, to the officers and to all
the army that, whatever might be the issue of the
conflict, Absalom might be spared. But here again
we see Joab decide upon his own responsibility what
ought to be done, and carry it out without reference
to the wishes of the king. And Joab was right as
well as politic in this resolve for the death of Absalom. Perhaps he was indignant that Absalom
had proved treacherous to himself, for by his mediation he had been brought home and reconciled
to David, and thus ungratefully had he requited it.
But, apart from personal feeling, Joab knew that
the death of Absalom was absolutely necessary for
the peace of the kingdom, for troubles were now
abroad which could hardly be settled even when
Absalom was gone, and which indeed resulted in
evil fifty years later. Hie felt also that the death
of Absalom was richly deserved for his crimes;
that it would save the lives of many better men
than he; and in all likelihood he felt that his own
safety and the. safety of his companions-in-arms
depended upon the destruction of the rebel. For
if Absalom now lived, if he became again reconciled to David, if perhaps he should one day become David's successor, Joab knew him too well to
think that he would ever forgive the victorious




324           LIFE OF DAVID.
arms that had overthrown him  in the wood of
Ephraim. Joab entered the battle, therefore, fully
resolved upon Absalom's death.
The unhappy prince fell ingloriously. He was
riding through the wood where the battle occurred
when he was roughly torn from his mule by an
unexpected enemy.  The hair of Absaloai was
remarkably luxuriant, and it was his pride. As
his mule passed under an oak tree this hair caught
upon a projecting limb, his mule passed from under
him and he was inextricably entangled. We can
hardly decide where this happened. It would almost seem as if, with desperate valour, he had
pressed beyond his own troops within the lines of
the opposing army. If this accident occurred in
the sight of his own troops, they would have rendered assistance or formed a guard around him.
It seems, however, rather to have occurred in a
scattered pursuit, where the armies were fighting
in a forest, for Joab blew a trumpet to recall his
troops as soon as Absalom was dead. This death
was by the hands of Joab himself, for no inferior
person would venture so to disobey the king.
Thus died the unhappy Absalom.  He had
erected a pillar to keep his name in memory among
the people, but all knowledge of him would long
since have passed away from among men but for
the record of his sins and his untimely fate in these
sacred pages. Perhaps there is no man that wishes
to be totally forgotten when he has passed away




PROGRESS OF THE REBELLION.    325
from life. We would have our names sculptured
on the beautiful marble in the silent city of the
dead, whose multiplying population know not the
visits of their sorrowing friends; we would wish
to be kindly thought of by loving hearts after we
are gone. But how much easier and more profitable is that sanctified ambition that desires to have
our names written not on marble; nor even in
human hearts, but in the Lamb's Book of Life.
Of what avail would be the highest honours of earth,
or the widest fame after death, to the man who is
unprepared to meet his God?  There is a sense in
which we all shall be soon forgotten. Our places
will soon be emptied and soon filled again. Other
men will dwell in our pleasant homes, and rove
over these fields, and we will scarcely be missed, as
we ourselves think only now and then of those we
have formerly loved.  But there is a sense in which
we shall never be forgotten, and shall ourselves
never forget. Our names are written, our deeds are
recorded, our memory is to survive. Shall we lose
in the dying engagements of to-day the infinite importance of an immortal life?  Trembling on the
brink of eternity, will we never think long enough
to prepare for it? Shall we grasp after earth's
honours? and it may be, like Absalom, suddenly
lose all to be hurried to an unwelcome death!




CHAPTER XV II.
GRIEFt FOR THE DEIATH OF ABSALOMX.
H""FTE affecting account of the king's lament over
Absalom presents to us a scene of the deepest
interest and instruction.  A momentous battle has
just been fought, the fate of a great empire just
decided. The serious and parricidal rebellion that
had driven the royal David from his capital, insulted him in his most sacred rights, carried away
by its seductions ten thousand of his people, and
threatened an entire revolution in the government,
has just been quelled and its leader slain.  The
crown that had so nearly been thrown off rests
again upon the monarch's brow; the armies of
David are returning from victory flushed with success, and anxious to salute the king's ears with
their eager congratulations.  But did any faithful
army ever meet such a response at the end of the
strife. The man for whom they have fought, the
exile for whom they have prepared a. return to his
royal city, the restored king whose throne they
have now re-established, and for whom their shouts
of exultation are raised, has no sympathy with
their r(-Joicings, and gives no evidence that he re326




DEATH OF ABSALOM.             327
gards himself as a victor. If his army had been
routed, his bravest friends slain and his crown torn
ruthlessly away, we could understand all this. But
after the victory how strange is David's behaviour!
He is overwhelmed with grief, he retires friom public view, and he laments with bitter tears the success of his own army and the defeat of an ungrateful, insulting and implacable foe.
It is scarcely a sufficient explanation of this
scene to say that the weeping victor was a father
and the defeated rebel a son; for we may read upon
many a dark page of the world's history that such
ties of blood are of slight avail when the interests
or the passions of the parties are brought into collision; that the stern questions of ambition and revenge have many a time crushed out of existence
all the tender and gentle feelings of social life;
that as here we have seen the child rising up in the
most wicked and unprovoked rebellion against an
indulgent father, so the father has delivered the
son to death, and all the most tender ties of kindred have been trampled in the dust.  Had David
not only suppressed with a strong hand his son's
rebellion, but proclaimed also public rejoicings over
the victory and set forth the name of Absalom as
accursed henceforth in Israel, he would but have
carried out the usual feelings of kings at the end
of such a strife.  Indeed, that he should do something like this seemed almost demanded for the
future safety of the throne against like rebellions.




328.           LIFE OF DAVID.
Thus the people expected him to act; and dismay
and amazement, like a defeat befbre their foes,
filled the army of Israel, and sent each mlan silent
and dispirited to his tent, that their king should
weep in their hour of triumph.
But what is customary among the kings of the
earth, or what are the promptings of man's corrupt and cruel nature in cases like this, where
towering ambition and gross iniquity and base
ingratitude have not a due reward, may be very
different from the promptings of correct feelings and a pious judgment.  We may find reasons
to call forth our deep sympathy and perhaps our
wise acquiescence in the strange conduct of David.
He had reason to rejoice truly, for the result of
the great battle was not simply his own exaltation,
but the welfare of his kingdom. But he had reason to weep bitterly, for a part of the price of his
success was the untimely death of a beloved son,
and he was but too well assured that Absalom was
not prepared to die. David was a king, but he
was a righteous king. He was a father, but he
was a pious father. It is the happy influence of
true religion to sanctify and to render both more
binding and more tender the natural bonds of
human life. "Without natural affection" is one
of the marks of extreme depravity to which even
ungodly men do not often reach, and from which
by the farthest remove the pious mind should be
distant. It is the just influence of piety to




DEATH OF ABSALOM.             329
strengthen and not to weaken the relationships of
life; and that man has good reason to suspect that
his is a vain religion who is not made by it a more
faithful friend, a more affectionate husband, a truer
father, a more obedient son, a more dutiful citizen.
The same God who has made these the ordinary
duties of life certainly never designed that when
the soul of man more truly realizes his character
and is more truly devoted to his fear, it should
thereby be less prepared or fitted for the discharge
of other duties. The new affection-GOD OVER
ALL —which in all ages fills and characterizes a regenerated human mind, does in no wise drive out
of the heart a single virtuous affection nor relax a
single virtuous tie binding man to man.
There is certainly no relationship of our social
life that has resting upon it responsibilities and
duties of more general interest and of deeper importance than belong to the estate of a parent.
WVe do not need, indeed, to institute a formal comparison between our various ties of kindred. Yet
perhaps we may venture to say that no love on
earth is purer in its own nature, none is more capable of surviving the various changes of circumstances, of separation, of neglect, of ingratitude,
and even of guilt, than the love of a parent for a
child.  We too often see that separate abodes,
separate engagements and jarring interests rudely
tear asunder the ties of kind feeling and interest
which should bind together in bonds of closest




330            LIFE OF DAVID.
unity the children of the same womb and the
same hearth.  We have even seen it true that that
nearest and dearest love of human kindred, by
which in the wise arrangements of God's providence two persons whose early years have been
passed apart, are united together with solemn vows
that death only shall ever divide them-we have
seen this bond snapped rudely asunder when
chilled by unnatural coldness or struck by irreparable guilt. But it requires more to separate a
parent from a child, so that the heart becomes cold
toward him or that he can be careless of his welfare, than to lbreak off any other earthly affection.
The  parent's love shuts out every feeling of
jealousy, and cannot find any object to supplant it;
it grows more tender and soft, yet more strong and
self-denying, when calamities have made a suffering child unusually dependent upon the parent's
care, and it hopes against hope in the (lark and
cloudy day of a child's perverseness and iniquity.
There is no earthly affection that endures through
severer trials than a parent's love. It has sometimes to bear very cruel trials from the very hearts
that should thankfillly return it.  Children are
often restive under the restraints that love and
wisdom throw around them; they make ungrateful returns for kindness they can never repay;
they rebel against the counsels and the wishes of
those that love them as they love their own souls,
and by their wickedness they sometimes bring




DEATH OF ABSALOM.             331
down with sorrow to the grave the gray hairs they
should have held in the deepest reverence.
But we do not need to compare the strength and
durability in the different relationships of life. If
every principle and influence of piety tends but to
strengthen the duties of life in the hold they have
upon our hearts, a pious parent will cling to the
children of his love and refuse to be separated.
W~e may look then upon the weeping of David
over the untimely death of Absalom, and see if we
cannot learn some of those valuable lessons which
it is our wisdom to put in practice as we are called
to occupy those positions in life. We are all either
parents or children; and here are brought before
us a father and his son. Let them  teach us the
lessons that become the parent and the child.
Surely this is an impressive scene to lead us to
study the duties of life. An aged father weeps in
bitterness for the early death of a misguided and
wretched son. WVe may lay aside our remembrance
of the attending circumstances and look on the
simple facts. It is not that the one was a king
and the other a noble prince, beautiful in person
and polished in his demeanour. It is the living
father and the dead son we would contemplate.
The natural order of things is for the child to
weep over the parent's grave; and even where
such a loss is deeply felt and seriously mourned
the grief is shorter lived for many reasons. When
a parent dies we feel that longer time has been




332:           LIFE OF DAVID.
given to discharge the duties of life, and it is but
the anticipating by a brief period of an event that
cannot long be delayed. The urgent duties of life
yet press upon those that are bereaved, and they
more easily lose their sorrows in new engagements;
and it is the wise ordination of Providence that
new ties to a rising generation take the place of
those ties that are gradually severed from the generation receding from the earth.  But when a surviving parent mourns over a child, it is over one
whose early promise is blasted and who is early cut
off from  unfinished duties; the parent less readily
forms new ties to take the place of those thus
broken off, and the breach in the household is not
easily filled up. The longer the child is spared in
the household, the weightier seems the stroke that
removes him  from our sight.  Yet these are not
uncommon scenes in these our abodes of sorrow.
Many a parent is called thus to grieve.  To every
reflecting mind it must appear that we have no
times better fitted to impress upon us the mutual
duties and responsibilities of parents and children
than those solemn seasons when they are called to
separate.  Serious at any time and in any aspect,
our duties seem  deeply solemn in view of those
separations that are the begininng of an endless
state of existence.
We may look upon the weeping of David over
the death of the unhappy Absalom as teaching us
some of the responsibilities and the anxieties of a




DEATH OF ABSALOM.              333
pious parent, and the threatening dangers of unconverted children.
The responsibilities that belong to a parent are
inferior to none that men are ever called to bear,
when we take into consideration the number of
persons that are affected by it. The family is the
smallest of organized societies; and we would not,
of course, declare that the parent of any one single
family has a post of superior influence to any that
any man can elsewhere hold.  But, in comparison
with the number of persons influenced and with
reference to those that are in the family, all the
elements of weighty responsibility are found in the
parental office, and with stronger power than anywhere else. Is it a responsible thing to be a ruler
over men; to make their laws; to control their
conduct: to form their habits; to direct their energies; to guide their destinies for good or evil?
[No king ever possessed more uncontrolled authority, ever ruled by a clearer right, ever had better
opportunities for guarding his whole body of subjects, or ever exerted greater influence for good or
evil, than has the parent over his children.  From
the beginning the authority of a wise and just
parent is never disputed; his kingdom is small,
but the throne is absolute; the fewn'ess of his subjects does but place them more completely under
his government; and so far as human destinies
ever can depend upon a ruler's wisdom or folly, do
the character and destinies of a household for time




334             LIFE OF DAVID.
and for eternity depend upon the parent at the head
of it.
Is it a responsible thing to be a teacher, and to
train the minds of the young for their future duties?
Of all teachers the parent is the chief.  His school
is small, but every member is an apt scholar.  The
eye and the lip and the heart are trained there as
they never can be again, and whether the lessons be
wise or foolish, vicious or virtuous, no pupil ever is
graduated in ignorance from the first of all academies.  The lessons taught by the parent begin
with the feeblest dawnings of intelligence in the
child; they preoccupy the mind so that no lessons
subsequently learned can ever make a deeper impression; and in the vast majority of cases the sons
of men are what their fathers have made them.
Should~men ever carefully use the influence they
have gained over their fellows? The influence of a
parent isjustly great, and is exerted upon those, in the
first place, who know none upon whom they should
depend as they do, and ought to do, upon the authors
of their earthly existence.  It is the influence of a
friend long known and trusted, having every care
for our welffare, having wiser and more mature
thoughts; and surely if any man is to be relied
upon, we may rely upon a parent.
It is deeply to be regretted that few parents form
a just conception of the serious duties of such an
office, or of the momentous bearing of its influence
upon the temporal and everlasting welfare of their




DEATH OF ABSALOM.             335
children. How, indeed, can any parent bear to reflect upon the solemn truth that he is himself unreconciled to God, and therefbre unprepared to
understand his own important duties, or to discharge them, in their bearings upon eternal things.
The burden of his own soul's salvation should be
a great thing to weigh upon any man's heart; but
how can he who feels not for himself as he should,
feel as he ought his responsibilities in reference
to his children, or earnestly exert himself to discharge them? It is a very easy thing to decide
that the entire face of human society would be
changed and improved, that we would have a happier and a holier world if every parent felt the
burden of his responsibilities, and, with the heavy
weight upon him, set himself about the careful discharge of his duties.  Men may be unwilling to
look at their responsibility, or to acknoiwledge that
they are under so great obligations.  Yet is it infinitely better for themselves and for their families
that God has so bound them; it would be a great
calamity for the race if the common carelessness of
parents could be justified as right.  We do not
magnify, we are prone rather to undervalue, the
parental office. But if every parent felt as the
plrinciples of the Bible would lead him to feel, how
would we ponder our obligations, and how would
our anxieties be awakened for the temporal and
eternal well-being of our children!
Alas! it is too late for us to feel these responsi



336             LIFE OF DAVID.
bilities when we retire to our solitary chamber, as
David here does, to bewail the neglect of duties
that cannot be recalled for their more faithful discharge, and to mourn over a bereavement for which
there is no remedy.  Yet it is wise for us, in our
calm moments of devotion in the sanctuary of God
to forecast the deep griefs of a day of bereavement;
it is wise for us, while our children are young, while
our duties can yet be discharged, to learn our salutary lessons from  parents whose griefs we wish
never to share, and whose errors we wish earnestly
to avoid.  Let us look upon the Israelitish king in
the anxious waitings of that eventful day when his
armies had passed out to meet his rebellious Absalomn; and the yearnings of a father's heart, that
could do no more now than to pity and pray for a
son who had passed from his control and spurned
his authority, go forth in the touching command,
" Deal gently with the young man."  Let us realize
his anxiety as he sees the swift-footed messenger
speeding across the plain, and knows not which
tidings he had rather hear-the success or the (defeat of his son.  Let us sympathize with the weeping father, who forgets his own success in the overwhelming tidings that his son-his miserable, his
impenitent son —has already passed beyond a father's
efforts and a father's prayers.  WTe need to know
the revelations of divine truth, we need to feel as
true piety bids us feel, before we can understand a
scene of grief like this; yet it may make us more




DEATH OF ABSALOM.             337
carefully ponder our duties, it may awaken our
solicitude, it may save us and our families from a
similar scene of hopeless sorrow, if we come with
teachable and prayerfill hearts to hear the mourning of this stricken father.
Let parents learn something of their deep obligations in view of such a scene. They are responsible in this, that their own characters have a great
deal to do with the formation of the characters of
their children; that their sentiments will be the
sentiments they generally adopt; that their habits
will be the habits formed by them; and that if
they neglect their careful and prayerful training,
they will find in this serious occasions for grief at
a fuiture day. Is it possible for parents to throw
around their families too many safeguards?  Is
there one of those that Christian piety desires to
use that can safely be omitted by any intelligent
parent?  Think of the judgment we would form
of parental duty if now we were looking back
with the grief of David in this hour of bereavement; for wisdom  bids us do now just what we
will wish we had done when we understand most
fully the nature and results of parental responsibility. If now we felt as parents as we shall feel
when God calls us to give an account of our
stewardship, which of our family safeguards would
we be willing to relax?  Would we be less careful
to bring our families to the sanctuary, and to teach
them by precept and by example the value of the
22




3,38. LIFE OF DAVID.
house of God? Would we cast down in the dust
the altar of fainily devotion and neglect to bless
our children with the parental prayer?  Would we
allow the cares of a passing world to crowd friom
our attention the chief labours we are doing for
eternity?
How, indeed, should the words of David find
an echoing response from  every anxious parent as
he sends forth his children in the world-Deal
gently, with the young man. We nurse them in
infancy when they know little of the burdens they
impose, little of the cares that wear upon our
hearts, little of the deep self-denials that parental
love prompts in their behalf. We see them go
forth to their duties in life with joy and pride, yet
with trembling as we hope that the cares and trials
and griefs of life may deal gently with them.
Alas! the world too often proves like the deceitful
Joab, who hears the earnest words of David, but
all resolved to give no heed to them, and our Absalom is slain by the hand that we have charged to
protect him.
We are anxious for our children because we
know that they are partakers of that fallen nature
which is so prone to evil, so averse from good.
No man is wise for himself or for the -interests of
others who denies or overlooks that sinfulness of
our nature which works so much evil even against
our most watchful solicitude.  And when with
hearts like these, unrenewed by God's grace, our




DEATH OF ABSALOM.            339
children go forth beyond the watch we have given
to their childhood, we are deeply concerned for
them.
We are concerned to know what characters they
will form and what influence they will exert for
this life. We send forth our children from the
parental roof to the schools and colleges where
they are to receive a fitting education, but they
meet with companions and temptations we know
not; they are enjoying advantages which many
have found of inestimable value, but which many
also have abused to their miserable undoing; and
they are forming habits of great good or evil. We
repeat often, therefore, the inquiry of David, "Is
the young man, Absalom, safe?" and we follow our
children with an earnest and anxious prayer. We
send them forth to mingle with the community
around us. WVe must do so, we ought to do so,
but anxiety whispers again and again, Is the son,
is the daughter safe? Let no one say that these
are undue anxieties. Let the eye of a Christian
look over the dangers that lie in wait for the young,
beginning with the insidious and seductive advances which we are almost ashamed to resist and
rebuke, they seem so blameless, and which yet give
us the only hope of a wise and successful resistance.
It is no trifling indication of evil things in advance,
that our children so early leave the Sabbath-school
and form habits of inattention to the lecture-room
and the sanctuary. It is a cause of solicitude to




340            LIFE OF DAVID.
every wise parent that when our sons enter upon
the business of the world as apprentices or as
clerks, there is rarely any attention paid to their
religious habits, and our anxieties are certainly not
allayed by the frequent defalcations and frauds that
result from  their neglect.  And when we look
upon the common opinions and practices of that
genteel society into which our sons and daughters
are introduced; when we know that frivolous and
heartless conversation and conduct are common;
when we know that the wine-glass is often offered,
that the card-table is often opened, that the sneer
at religion is often indulged-we wish to know
where all this leads. We know that drinking-saloons are always open, and that many a beloved
son, unsuspected by his ffiends, has there become
entangled in the meshes of a vice from which few
ever escape, and as we see the numbers of these
on every hand, we tremble for our children and
say, "Are the young men safe?" We know that
temptations to gaming, to reckless expenditures,
to impurity, abound on every hand. We know
that the fairest promise of early life has been soon
clouded over by inexpiable shame, that the children of the pious are often engulfed in spite of the
teachings and prayers of godly parents, and that
no past care or earnestness can make amends for
any neglect of the duties that still bid us watch
and counsel and pray; and it is thus with constant
anxiety that we ask ourselves, in view of the vari



DEATH OF ABSALOM.            341
ous temptations of life, Is the young man safe?
Is he safe?
The anxieties of a Christian parent, chiefly have
reference to eternal things.  These our children
are by nature sinful —immortal beings, but rebels
against the God that made them. If these our beloved ones were truly converted to God, our chief
anxieties would be allayed for them. We know,
indeed, that there is sometimes a profession of
piety where no real change has occurred. Therefore we watch in thankfill but solicitous hope even
over the pious confessions of those we love. But
no greater joy, after his thankfulness to God for
his own hope of forgiveness, can affect the heart of
a parent than that which he feels over the conversion of a darling child. How just and how deep
is the anxiety that belongs to a Christian parent
contemplating the thought that a child whom he
has reared and caressed and loved and prayed for
shall be a rebel against his God-the thought of
that separation beyond a remedy that must occur
when a believing parent and an impenitent child
have met for the last time before the judgment-bar
of God!
How deep is the anguish of the parent who bows
down by the cold remains of an impenitent son,
suddenly snatched away from life without even the
uttering of his despairing and unavailing cry for
that divine mercy lie had so often spurned! We
see it here, and we cannot wonder that the agoniz



342            LIFE OF DAVID.
ing father would gladly have exchanged places
with the lifeless son, and that he pours forth a
lamentation like this: "0 my son Absalom! my
son! my son Absalom! would God I had died for
thee, 0 Absalom, my son! my son I"
And it is proper to add that these anxieties of
Christian parents are immeasurably increased by
the serious truth that our children do not share the
solicitude we feel on their behalf.  If our sons, if
our daughters, were as much concerned as we are,
a chief cause of our anxiety would be removed.
But because the youthful mind is naturally hopeful,
usually looks upon the bright aspects of life, and
is confident in its own capacity to discern and to
resist temptation; because the young are restive
under authority, are prone to be even reckless
where parental love is solicitous, and easily learn
to resist the kindest leadings of those who love
them dearer than they love their own life; because
especially the unregenerate heart finds the duties
and claimns of' piety distasteful,-every wise parent
feels that his anxieties are equalled only by his
perplexities.  Gladly would he do the wisest and
most salutary things if he could but decide what
these are. The more careless his children are, the
greater is the pious parent's anxiety, yet the more
difficult his duties as he would endeavour to lead
them toward God and heaven.




CHAPTER XVI II,
THtE.R:EBBELLIION ENDED AND THE GIBONXITES
A VENGGED.
IT is no easy thing to restore peace and good
order to an unsettled government. Rebellions
and revolutions affect too many-give occasion to
find fault with too many, either for what they have
said or done or for what they have not said or done
as became them in the time of trial; they have
given license to too many things that are restrained
in orderly times-to allow that the victorious party
should be moderate in their triumph or that the
defeated party should feel comfortable or easy in
view of what has passed. When the cause of strife
is removed, the effects of an array of parties against
each other often long remain. Now Absalom is
dead; his chief counsellor, Ahithophel, is dead
also; the next in wisdom, Hushai the Archite,
would not be slow in declaring his true position
of loyalty; and the troops of the rebellion were no
longer together. Yet David comes not back in
triumph to resume his crown and his government.
Indeed there seems to be trouble among the tribes,
and danger that the kingdom may be divided into
two parts, as it had been under Ishbosheth a quarter
343




344            LIFE OF DAVID.
of a century before, and as it became permanently
under Rehoboamn half a century later than this.
The first matter we notice as tending to keep up
this distinction is the conduct of David himself
after the issue of the battle with Absalomn. We
may sympathize with the anguish of the heartbroken father at such a time as that. We have
known perhaps periods of such strange perplexity,
when our reasons for grief and for joy were at the
same time so strangely mingled together, and we
are not surprised that the victorious king felt no
emotions of rejoicing at all to be compared with
the bitter sorrow of the bereaved fiather. At the
same time we can scarcely wonder that the people
did not understand the king's conduct; we can
easily see that it was exceedingly impolitic to treat
thus an army who had ventured their lives to save
his. And here again comes in play the characteristic boldness and energy of Joab. And here
again, as in almost every instance, so far as the
well-being of the government was concerned, Joab
was in the right. We may not approve of language so arbitrary and of a tone and manner involving so much disrespect to his sovereign as we
see here in Joab.  It is in keeping with the usual
character of the man, and it may be that the habit
of military command had a tendency to strengthen
such a natural characteristic. But apart from these
improper circumstances, Joab was in the right, and
perhaps even his rough way of' reaching the case




THE REBELLION ENDED.           345
was the only effectual way. David's conduct was
highly impolitic. His people really deserved well
at his hands, and we may understand his anguished
feelings and sympathize with the parental bereaveinent, at the same time that the ruler ought to have
acted wisely and refrained from the public indulgence of his grief. The stern remonstrance of
Joab had the effect he designed, and David came
forth and showed himself to the people.
But the difficulties flowing from the rebellion
may not be thought to reside among the adherents
of David, though they were for a time disheartened
by his seeming repulse of them. The part of the
people on the side of Jordan where he had been
were faithful to him; the chief strength of Absalom had been on the other side, and the tribes there
were tardy in making submission again to the king.
David perhaps, through policy and to give them
the opportunity of voluntary submission, did not
pass over into his former territories as a conqueror
to assume again his throne. But the people there
began to agitate the subject. A little delay may
have been naturally the result of embarrassment,
lest their overtures might be ungraciously met.
Unhappily, while they delayed, David sent messengers to influence the elders of Judah, through
the priests Zadok and Abiathar. It is likely he
sent there, because they dwelt at his capital, Jerusalem, and it was in the tribe of Judah; and it is
possible that Absalom's brief rule in the city had




346            LIFE OF DAVID.
been attended by some compliances and festivities
on the part of the chief inhabitants which made
them fear f(r the anger of the restored king and
need special assurances of forgiveness.  David
gave this assurance, not only in the message to
them, but by declaring also that Anmasa, who had
been the leader of the rebel armies, should have
more than a pardon. The malcontents were to
be conciliated by the promotion of Amasa to the
command of David's troops. This message was
gladly heard in Jerusalem. Immediate answer
was given and the king invited to return, while the
men of Judah made their preparation to escort him
over the Jordan. What is here said concerning
Shimei and Mephibosheth we have before noticed,
and hereafter we will speak of Barzillai, the
Gileadite.
The message thus sent to the tribe of Judah was
highly impolitic on the part of David, and the
reason given, that they were his near kindred, was
still more so. The kingdom was made up of twelve
tribes, each naturally independent of the rest; and
there ever will be, in such cases, some jealousy of
each other's privileges and rights, and this jealousy
more plainly appears in times of agitation and revolution. That David was related to the tribe of
Judah would be the very reason, in view of the
other tribes, why that tribe should not be too forward in restoring him to the throne. The other
tribes ought to have been consulted at the least, if




THE REBELLION ENDED.            347
not in honour preferred. Yet the single tribe
brought the king back, with the aid doubtless of
a few of Israel, but without the presence or concurrence of all the tribes.  And the matter was
made vastly worse by the reply of Judah when
expostulation was made. " A soft answer turneth
away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger."
Had the men of Judah been wise for the good of
the realm and of the king, had they been kind and
conciliatory in their tone, had they perceived the
error and frankly avowed and regretted it, no harm
might have come of it. It is very likely, indeed,
that they had been as far wrong in the previous
scenes as any of the other tribes; the success of
Absalom seems to intimate this; their plea, then, of
kindred and superior affection for David but poorly
agrees with their past behaviour; yet this explains
the matter more fully, for the fierce temper of the
men of Judah exactly flows from  their previous
wrong.  When men have felt and acted rightly, we
may more reasonably look for a kind and conciliatory temper; but nothing more disposes a man to
quarrel needlessly with other people than an uneasy heart that is dissatisfied with itself.  Tile
zeal of Judah would not have been so exclusive
had it arisen from true love of David; but springing now from the effort to repair the past injury, it
overreached  itself, and  had wellnigh  produced
greater mischief than before. The men of Israel
expostulated,'and Judah answered too roughly; an




348            LIFE OF DAVID.
angry controversy sprung up just at the time when
the land should have been filled with rejoicing, and
the kindred of the king used the fiercest instead of
the most conciliatory language.
Indeed the matter produced a rebellion upon the
spot. This sprung up among the feeble remnant
of the tribe of Benjamin, but whether it had any
connection with the family of Saul we are not informed. It is not likely that any descendant of
Saul was directly named, much less proposed, as
king over the tenll tribes; but it is likely that some
memory of their previous pre-eminence may have
made the Benjamites more disposed to throw off the
rule of David. The leader in the case was one
Sheba, the son of Bichri, and at his signal the men
of Israel retired from David and refused to take
any further part in the ceremony of the restoration.
This whole matter seems to have been greatly
aggravated by the further impolitic step on the
part of David that had promised to Amasa the
command of his armies in the stead of Joab.
This Amasa was a half-blood Ishmaelite (1 Chron.
ii. 17), but a filll cousin to Joab and a nephew to
David; and if he is the same as Amasa, he joined
himself to David just before the fatal battle of
Gilboa, and assisted him in pursuing the Amalekites after the destruction of Ziklag. (See 1 Chron.
xii. 16-22.)  We are at no loss to understand why
David was willing to make this exchange of generals. In the first place, it is likely that Amasa




THE REBELLION ENDED.           349
was a valiant man and an able commander. No
other man would have been chosen by Absalorm
than one who had the confidence of the tribes, and
David had known him long and well. It was no
rash appointment, so far as the man's capability
was concerned. 2d. We are at no loss to see that
David is restive under the domination of Joab.
We do not wonder at this. Though from first to
last Joab seems to have acted so as really to promote the wise ends of the government, yet he is so
unscrupulous   and selfish and overbearing-even
toward  his king, he seems himself to be the
ruler of the land and not a subordinate-that we
cannot be surprised that David at several times
tried to get rid of him. And since these troublous
times Joab is more lordly than ever. Perhaps he
felt it so, and perhaps it really was so, that the
throne of David could not stand without him.
What an advantage to Absalom if Joab-a host in
himself-had declared in his favour! But if Joab
felt himself of this importance, he shows it too
plainly, and David is resolved at all hazards to
supersede him in the command. His chief reasons
now are these recent events. He knew that Joab
was the destroyer of Absalom's life —that this was
done in direct disregard of his orders and in violation of his tenderest feelings. Moreover, Joab had
directly used toward him a conduct and language
that were unbecoming the position of a subject
toward his sovereign. We cannot feel surprised,




350            LIFE OF DAVID.
therefore, that the king desired to be a freemanthat he wished to be delivered from the irlksonle
bondage in which this overbearing Joab had so long
held him.
Doubtless a third reason for this movement on
the part of David was the expectation that this
appointment would conciliate that portion of the
people who had acted with Absalom. After a rebellion is quelled every wise government mingles
conciliatory measures with the punishment of ringleaders. Now, if the very commander of Absalom's
troops is pardoned-indeed, also promoted over his
victorious rival-all the rest of the people may
return to David's rule without apprehension.
But in this entire matter David veryv much mistook the popularity of Joab and the temper of the
times.  It is not indeed unlikely that his very
mildness in punishing the rebels may have given
boldness to the attempt of Sheba. It is very plain
that the people did not sympathize with the change;
and we can hardly swonder that they did not. They
did not feel the overbearing temper of Joab as the
king did. They looked upon him as a servant of
David, long tried and ever found valuable; they
reflected that now his greatest crime in the eyes of
the monarch was his greatest virtue in the eyes of
the people; and they thought it an exceedingly
lhard thing that for winning the greatest battle in
David's reign, and for putting to death an enemy
the most formidable, Joab should lose his honours,




THE REBELLION ENDED.            351
hard earned and long enjoyed. It made the matter
worse that a man who had fouglht against tile king,
and whose defeat in that signal battle seemed to
prove his inferiority to Joab, should be the suc-.
cessor of that chief; and especially after the rebellion of Sheba, when the influence of Amtasa did not
seem to be great enough to keep his own party from
a further revolt from David, we cannot wonder that
this effort to promote him proved an utter failure.
Indeed, the matter was likely to have a disastrous issue, and would have so resulted if Joab had
not proved himself here, as he always proved himself, a true patriot. The king commanded Amasa
to assemble an army within three days to go forth
against Sheba and put down this rebellion. This
Amasa was quite unable to do; he was longer about
it than the appointed season, and time was precious.
Let us not impute this delay to a lack of energy on
the part of the new commander.  It was rather
the unwillingness of the people to serve under hlim,
and he could not find the men. David was then
forced to fall back upon his old fiiends. I-e comnlanded Abishai to move forward in the matter;
and if in such a crisis Joab had taken offence and
refused to do anything till his place had been restored to him, it is likely David would have been
compelled to do this. But Joab acts the part of a
patriot and goes forth to the conflict; yet as soon
as opportunity offers, he maintains his former character, using any means to carry out his own pur



352            LIFE OF DAVID.
poses. As the army passed on, Amasa put himself
at the he.ad of it and assumed his lawful command
as the chief captain.  The treacherous Joab reenacted wit.h him the tragedy of Abner; he saluted
him ill a kind and friendly manner, but took the
occasion to strike him one fatal blow. The shocking sight of the commander-in-chief lying in his
blood in the open road struck the people with horror, but one of Joab's friends removed and concealed the corpse, and the former general immediately assumed the command.  Perhaps the popularity of Joab is shown in the fact that the tribes
were easily gathered after this, when proclamation
was made in his name; and he proceeded to fight
against Sheba.
From this time forth David seems to have made
no further effort to punish the crimes of Joab. It
is evident that he had no sympathy with him, and
that he would have punished him had he possessed
the power. For these crimes Joab was put to death
as one of the first acts in the reign of Solomon, by
which time the power of the throne had increased
and the influence of Joab had doubtless waned.
But from first to last, in David's life, the energy
an'd popularity of Joab set him above any power
that the king could put forth.
Whatever the rebellion of Sheba might have
amounted to under Amasa, the name of Joab was
enough to put it down. The rebel retired, doubtless with but a small force, to the town of Abel, in




THE REBELLION ENDED.            353
the tribe of Naphtali, and about ninety miles from
Jerusalem.  Here Joab rapidly pursued him, andbegan, with his usual promptitude, to lay siege to
the place and to prepare for battering down the
walls. But evidently the besieged had little confidence in their cause, and plerhaps as little in their
leader. After a brief consultation, it was agreed
that Sheba should be put to death and his head
thrown over the wall in token of submission, and
that then the town should be spared from assault.
This ended, for the present, the troubles caused by
the rebellion of Absalom. Yet it is likely that the
jarrings between the tribes still broke forth upon
occasions that excited any jealousy. The strong
hand of Solomon kept these things in check so
long as he reigned, but no sooner was he dead than
the kingdom was rent.in two through the imprudence of his successor; and no union was ever
again formed.
Not long after this there was a famine in the
land that lasted three years. Inquiry was mlade of
the' Divine Oracle for the cause of this, and the reply was, that it was a chastisement for Saul and for
his bloody house, because he slew the Gibeonites.
Several things here are beyond our knowledge:
First. We have no previous record of any attack
made by Saul upon the Gibeonites. We know
whlo the Gibeonites were. They were the descendants of that tribe of the Canaanites who had imposed upon Joshua by pretending that they had
23




354            LIFE OF DAVID.
come from a distant land to make a covenant with
the Israelites. Joshua and the elders of Israel,
without any inquiry into their statements, made a
league with them and soon afterward discovered
the trick. But it was too late to draw back and
treat this tribe as thev did the other Canaanites.
A solemn treaty had been formed with them and
the oaths of the elders passed, and the lives of the
Gibeonites must be spared. But, incensed at the
deception, Joshua condemned this people to be
hewers of wood and drawers of water for the congregation. In the space of four hundred years, we
may easily judge, a great change had taken place
among the Gibeonites. They had beyond doubt
laid aside their idolatries; they had in all likelihood learned to worship the true God. Yet they
were in the midst of Israel, still a distinct and a
servile race, and apparently not admitted to the
privileges often conferred upon proselytes. We need
not wonder, therefore, since the Gibeonites were
not a part of Israel, that their claim for revenge is
rather according to the usual Oriental claims, and
not according to anything else we read of among
the Jews. But we do not know when Saul slew
the Gibeonites. Some suppose that at the time he
attacked the city of the priests the Gibeonites also.
were slain, who were servants to the tabernacle, but
there is no mention of any slain there except those
that belong to the priestly families. It is more
likely that upon some occasion Saul affected a sud



THE REBELLION ENDED.           355
den zeal for pure Judaism and resolved to cut off
out of the land this race of Gentiles. But conjectures are vain. This we know: Saul unjustly
attacked and slew the Gibeonites.
Second. We cannot know why the famine that
punishes his crime is delayed so long. We are
familiar with the fact, both in the Bible and in
providence, that nations suffer for the errors and
crimes of their rulers. We see in this whole
transaction that what is done by a nation is regarded as binding upon that nation hundreds of
years afterward. But we can give no definite reason why the sin of Saul as king of Israel should
pass unavenged for thirty years after his death, and
then come in the reign of a righteous successor.
We cannot give any reason why, in the orderings
of Providence, the conscience of a sinner is often
allowed to sleep long in carelessness after his deed
is done, and why he seems to escape with almost
entire impunity for his sin. We only know this
much-that God in infinite justice will take account
of every sin; that from the moment a sin is committed the transgressor is liable both to the awakening of his conscience and to the judgments of
God; and that no man can ever anticipate the time
or the measure of that vengeance which the divine
law  demands. So, a practical commentator remarks, "God's judgments often look a great way
back, which obliges us to do so when under his rebukes. It is not for us to object against the peo



356            LIFE OF DAVID.
ple's smarting for the sin of their king, which perhaps they were aiding and abetting, nor against
this generation suffering for the sinl of the last.
God often visiteth the sins of the fathers upon the
children, and his judgments are a great deep.  He
gives not account of any of his matters. Tilme
does not wear out the guilt of sin, nor can we
build hopes of impunity upon the delay of judgment.  There is no statute of limitation to be
pleaded against God's demands.  God may punish when he pleases." * Perhaps we are too prone
to forget our sins that are past. As we look back
upon them, we may blame ourselves for their commission; perhaps we wish we could live over
again some past periods, that we might avoid some
of the obvious faults we have committed; but if
even we judge that we have been wrong, it is too
seldom with that just idea of God's law which reminds us that we have been criminal, and that we
are answerable for all the past as truly as for the
present. No matter what is the date of a sin unpardoned by the blood of Calvary; it will meet its
perpetrator one day,'and it may perhaps bring
forth upon earth its bitter fruits for his children
and for others after he has passed away from time.
Third. It seems strange to us that the Gibeonites
should demand this method of reparation for the
injury done to them. Yet it is but carrying out
the ancient customs of the Orientals, of which we
* Henry, in loco.




THE REBELLION ENDED.           357
have a modified form among the Hebrews, including their cities of refuge. They would take no
satisfaction except from the family of the man fromn
whom they had received the injury. We have no
reason to believe that David had any choice in the
matter except that, being forced to deliver up Saul's
descendants, he was able to spare certain of them
and select certain others. He spared Mephiboshethl,
the son of his friend Jonathan, and selected others.
These were taken by the Gibeonites and put to
death and hanged in Gibeah. The very manner of
doing this shows that the Gibeonites were not governed by Hebrew laws, but had regulations of their
own. The law of Mloses expressly enjoined, concerning a man that was hanged, " His body shall
not remain all night upon the tree, but thou shalt
in any wise bury him  that day." Deut. xxi. 23.
Either this was an extraordinary execution exempted from this law, or more likely it was governed by Gibeonitish laws. These bodies remained
exposed fromn early in the spring until rain fell
fromn heaven. No definite time is mentioned, but
the fall of rain is the token of the end of the
famine, and therefore of the divine reconciliation.
In this connection we have an instance of strong
maternal affection. Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah,
two of whose sons were slain upon this occasion,
resolved that their bodies should not be torn by
beasts or birds of prey. She therefore took her
mournful station beside them, lay down in sack



358            LIFE OF DAVID.
cloth upon the bare rock, but not for sleep. With
an endurance which only a mother's love can show,
she kept her toilsome vigils by the dishonoured
bodies of her children. Doubtless she was better
sustained in this because the deed had not been
committed by her sons, though the implication is
that Saul's house had been but too consenting to
the crime. This execution took place at Gibeah,
where Saul had lived, this being a plainer and
more public declaration of the cause of the scene.
After this, David took measures to have the remains of Saul himself, and of Jonathan, with all
three of his sons, gathered together and taken to
the usual burying-place of his fathers and there
interred. Then God was entreated for the landthat is, the period of fimine passed away and the
former prosperity was again granted.
Nothing is more plainly taught in this entire
transaction than the solemn and permanent obligation of a promise confirmed especially by an oath.
If the question be asked, Why was the house of
Saul thus punished for his slaughter of the Gibeonites, while we hear of no punishment specially inflicted for the massacre of the priests? we may
find the solution of it here. It seemed the practice
of this unhappy man to be zealous in the wrong
place. When God sent him to destroy the Amalekites, he spared them, and he is zealous to destroy
the Gibeonites, whllom he was bound to protect.
The chief matter here remembered and punished is




THE REBELLION ENDED.           359
the breach of the solemn oath which Joshua had"
made with these men. It served in no degree to
invalidate this oath that it had originally been secured by fraud. There are some oaths that ought
not to be taken at all, or not fulfilled when taken.
No man has the right to take an oath that binds
him to a crime, or, having taken such an oath, no
one is bound to keep it. The oath which Joshua
made he felt bound to keep; and if fraud to secure
a treaty is ever right, we may surely excuse the
Gibeonites, who had no other resource by which to
save their lives. But the fraud did not vitiate, nor
did the lapse of time make any alteration in the obligation of this oath. Made by Joshua, it was none
the less binding on Saul. Nor need we wonder,
but the rather rejoice, that the Scriptures lay so
much stress upon the maintenance of such obligations. It is not hard for us to understand that
scarcely anything is more important for the happiness of reasonable beings than the maintenance
of the truth; nothing is more sacred than a promise; few offences are more serious than a lie; and
an oath is but the most solemn confirmation of a
promise made.  There is much falsehood, much
covenant-breaking, much perjury in the world; yet
all that is excellent in our social order, all that is
happy, is based upon that confidence which falsehood and perjury do so much to break down. The
records of history are full of the evils that have
resulted from the breach of faith solemnly cove



360            LIFE OF. DAVID.
nanted between nations, and our ordinary society is
full of mischief wrought by falsehood between man
and man. When we see the judgment here recorded against Israel for the breach of this ancient
oath, we may learn how much God loves the truth.
It is set forth in the Psalms as characteristic of a
good man that even when his oath is injurious to
himself he keeps it. A wicked iman breaks his
word or his oath to secure some advantage; a righteous man keeps even the promise that costs him
most.  What a world this would be if, in this
single particular, it was thoroughly changed! A
world of truth without falsehood-how  different
would it be from  this world! We cannot too
deeply impress upon our minds that God hateth
lying lips, that he is a God of truth and without
iniquity, and that from his blissful presence shall
be cast out for ever " whosoever loveth and maketh
a lie."
And if we learn in this transaction how solemn
is the binding obligation of an oath, let us call to
mind two important passages of the Scriptures in
which the Most High God himself condescends to
ratify even his declarations by the sanctions of an
oath. It is hard to decide which may most call
forth our wonder-the unbelief of man that seemed
to render it necessary that God's word should be
ratified by an oath, or the condescension of God
that stoops to regard even this unreasonable requirement of our sin.  But here is the truth.




THE.REBELLION- ENDED.           361
Though it is impossible for God to lie, he has in
two matters solemnly interposed his oath:
1st. God has solemnly sworn that every believer
in the Lord Jesus Christ shall be saved. (See the
whole matter explicitly set forth in Heb. vi. 16-18.)
Sinful hearts fear to trust the word of God, and he
condescends thus to give them every possible assurance of their safety when they flee to Christ, the
appointed refuge.-  Let believers take the strong
consolation of this solemn assurance.  Let sinfiul
men flee to this refuge, for it is impossible to find
any other so excellent, so suitable or so safe as that
here afforded.
2d. God has solemnly sworn that no unbeliever
shall enter into his rest.
Many are the flattering delusions by which men
iseep quiet their consciences.  They hope for exemption from the wrath of God; they hope for a
future day of repentance; they hope that the Spirit
of God will still strive with them; and, forgetful
that death itself may come at any hour, they judge
that at any time during life they may flee from the
wrath to come. They have, perhaps, never noticed
the serious fact that the generation in the wilderness were rejected of God forty years before the
last of them died in the desert. But let this be a
serious thought for us to ponder, both to show the
great sin of unbelief and the increasing danger of
its indulgence, that God has solemnly sworn that
such shall never enter his rest.  Let any one alter




362            LIFE OF DAVID.
the apostle's strong language to suit the case of the
unbeliever, and let it thus read: God, willing to
show unto the heirs of perdition the immutability
of his counsel, confirmed it by an oath that by two
immutable things, wherein it is impossible for God
to lie, they who have not fled to Christ may have
the strongest assurance of their certain perdition.
Will God so abhor lying and prove himself perjured?  Let every sinner reflect that God or he
must change.  It is both impossible and undesirable that God should change; therefore turn ye,
turn ye, for why will ye die?




CHAPTER XIX.
THE PESTIZEXNCE Of THE  NUMBE[XRING.
W E are arrested in the outset of our reflections
upon the next important scene in the life of
King David by an apparent discrepancy in the accounts as given us by two inspired narratives. In
the study of' the Bible it is of very great advantage
that we often have two- and sometimes even four
-different narratives of the same transaction, and
are able thus, by comparing them together, to get a
clearer and more accurate view of the case. No
book in the world comprises so much teaching in
so brief a space; and the necessary tendency of so
great brevity is to leave many things unsaid, which
not unfrequently leaves important things in obscurity. When we have two accounts of the same
thing by different writers-or even sometimes by
the same writer (compare Acts ix. 7; xxii. 9)-we
secure different views of the matter; what is omitted by one observer is supplied by another; it
seems like tvwo independent witnesses testifying to
the same truth; and where there are diversities and
apparent discrepancies-which are not contradictions when carefully and candidly examined-the
363




364             LIFE OF DAVID.
internal evidence is strong that the writers were
speaking the truth without collusion.  When men
make up a story to impose upon others, there is an
artificial agreement that carefuilly casts out obvious
discrepancies; but two independent writers, both
telling the truth, will never tell it alike, will never
agree in the incidents mentioned by each and omitted by each, and will always strengthen the truth
of what they say by their very diversities. Every
intelligent student of the Bible must pay great attention to the harmony of the varying accounts;
and if he will find himself perplexed for the solution of things that do not apparently agree, he will
yet discover no manifest contradictions, while he
will be richly repaid for his closest investigations
by the clearer views that arise from the earnest
study of those pages.
The discrepancy in the narratives to which we
now refer is somewhat remarkable.  In 1 Chron.
xxi. 1 we read thus: " And Satan stood up against
Israel and provoked David to nuimber Israel."  In
2 Sam. xxiv. 1 we have this account of the same
matter: " And again the anger of the Lord was
kindled against Israel, and he moved David against
them to say, Go number Israel and Judah."  Here
is a temptation presented to the mind of I(ing
David, and this is ascribed to persons so widely
different as God himself and Satan.
The word Satan signifies an adversary.*  Some
*~ See Matt. xvi. 23.




PESTILENCE OF THE NUMBERING.   365
therefore refer it here, not to the proper name of
the arch-adversary, but to some wicked person
among David's counsellors.  But it seems obvious
that any such change would not alter in the least
the real difficulty of the passage.  r1The real difficulty lies just here: How can God be said to stir
up David to do an evil thing? How can he use
ally inferior instrumentality, satanic or human, for
such an end?  To the bottom of such a mystery
mortal line cannot reach.  It is, in fact, the great,
the most profound, mystery of Providence. How
can evil enter the dominions of the infinite God.
This is a mystery which we need not attempt to
solve.  There are some things we know. We
know that evil has entered the universe; we know
that evil is not of God in any such sense as to
imply his approval of it; we know that in no bad
sense of the word does he ever tempt men to sin,
"for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither
tempteth he any man." James i. 13. There are
some things also we believe.  We believe that God
has allowed the entrance of sin into the universe
for reasons of infinite wisdom; we believe he will
bring forth from it his own more illustrious glory;
we believe he will ftully vindicate his character and
his providence in due time in the eyes of all intelligent beings.  But great as is the mystery and
great as is the mischief of sinl in the universe of
God, it seems to me that I can conceive of a mystery both more profound and more disastrous to




366            LIFE OF DAVID.
the universe than the existence of sin. Conceive
of the entrance of sin into the world against the
divine consent and beyond the divine control, and
you have an infinite mischief that degrades God
himself at the same time that it ruins his rational
creation.  No such mystery as this exists.  It is
our place to believe that God for reasons of infinite
wisdom  has allowed sin to enter the world-has
allowed Satan to depart from his Creator and to
become an adversary to his fellow-creatures, and
allows us to come into contact with evil-for the
evidence of these things we have everywhere
around us. It is our place also to believe that sin
is not of God-that he thoroughly abhors it, and
that he is incapable of leading us to wrong. But
it is not less essential to the divine honour for us
to understand that the entire universe is under the
control of God; that sins and sinful beings and
every sinful act are lno less so than virtue and virtuous beings and every virtuous act, and that we
may truly say, even in full view of the evil all
around us, God doeth his " will in the army of
heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth, and
none can stay his hand or say unto him, What
doest thou?" Dan. iv. 35. This unquestionable
truth allows us, with the teachings of the Bible, to
attribute the same act both to divine agency and to
created agency.  We may say in truth that every
event, good or bad, has its divine aspect and its
inferior instrumentality.  The crucifixion of Christ




PESTILENCE OF THE NUMBERING.   367
by the Jews, his betrayal by Judas, these were the
carrying out of divine purposes, but not the less
were they done by wicked hands. Our philosophy
may be at loss here to explain how God governs
free moral agents, and yet leaves them free; is holy
himself, and yet permits such sins; controls even
sin. and yet justly judges the actors according to
their habits and motives; but let our philosophy
do here what human philosophy everywhere else is
compelled to do-let it observe and recognize the
facts, and acknowledge its own inability to go
farther than this. God is not the author of sin,
but he is its controller. Nothing occurs, of temptation or evil, that he allows not, and he even uses
the evil passions of men for carrying on the righteous and the punitive measures of his providence.
This would be a wretched world if any other doctrine were true. If men can do evil, if Satan, can
plan mischief and urge men to do evil, and even
God cannot prevent or control him, then God is no
longer governor of a world that has fallen into inextricable confusion; he cannot make a promise
with any certainty that Satan will not thwart it;
he cannot carry out his plans; in truth, he is dethronecl, for a God whb must contend with plans
he cannot control is no longer God. Let righteous
men rejoice in the assurance that Satan is a dependent being; that, far as he may go, he can go no
farther than God permits, and that he simply carries out what infinite wisdom allows. Let sinful




368            LIFE OF DAVID.
men know that no plan -of theirs-can ever succeed
beyond the point where it may be made to subserve God's purposes; that evil may prove ruinous
to themselves, but never harmful to God; and that
its indulgence is both folly and mischief to the
perpetrator in every case.
There is a sense, then, in which we may attribute
the temptation of David both to the providence of
God and to the agency of Satan. There are certainly aspects of this subject where a man may
easily lose himself in speculations both profound
and unprofitable; there is a simpler solution that
rejoices in the reign of God while it is amazed at
the agency of evil. And after all, our simplest
recognitions of the facts allow us to understand thile
matter as fully as the most profound inquiries. It
is interesting to notice here the writers of the Bible.
They simply place upon record the facts which involve these great principles, and leave them so, just
as if they needed no explanation; just as the great
truths of every science-of astronomy; geology,
chemistry, natural history, etc.-have been placed
by Providence before the eyes of men in all ages;
and men are called upon to observe, to classify, to
arrange them, and to deduce from long experience
the hidden laws that so often seem  strange and
contradictory to a superficial student.
The meaning of the record is, that God allowed
Satan to tempt David. The divine permission rose
out of some previous sin, for we are told that the




PESTILENCE OF THE NUMBERING.   369
anger of the Lord wras kindled against D:ivid, and
out of this grew this temptation.  But we are not
told why the Lord was displeased with him. The
temptation in this case was to the numbering of
Israel. Are we to understand from this that it is
a sin for the ruler of a land to take an account of
his people; to reckon his resources; to mark the
progress of things by careful statistics of commerce,
of population, of wealth? In modern times such
things have been found of great advantage, and in
the United States we have arrangements under the
general government for taking a careful census of
our population and resources at the end of every ten
years. These are published by the order of Congress, and embody an immense amount of most
valuable information.  When we find David and
the people of Israel severely punished for taking
such a census of the kingdom we ask, Wherein is
the sin of the transaction?  And the clear and
plain answer is, There is no sin against God in this
thing itself. So far from it, that we are told that
God commanded Moses to take the sum of all the
congregation after their families, with the number
of their names; and one of the books of Moses is
called NUMBERS because it contains just such an
enumeration. The enumeration in itself was not
wrong, but the evil must be found in its circumstances. Indeed, if we would keep ourselves from
evil, we should carefully notice that Satan's most
dangerous temptations have some plausibility about
24




370            LIFE OF DAVID.
them.  Men often start back from acknowledged
iniquity, while the specious appearances of things
that are not so plainly wrong deceive them into
departures as wide from the way of duty. The
deceit of sin often lies in its apparent innocence.
There was something wrong in the enumeration
which David here made of the people-so wrong
that Joab discovered and pointed it out, and did all
lie could to prevent the execution of the king's
wish. But commentators are not agreed as to the
precise point of David's delinquency.  It was the
express command of God to Moses that when he
numbered the people he should lay a tax upon
every man as a ransom for his soul, that there be
no plague among them. Ex. xxx. 12. Josephus
says that the omission of this tax was the sin of
David, but it seems strange that he should omit
such a tax at the very time when he was diligently
collecting money in preparation for builling the
temple. It is more likely that the offence of the
king lay in the motives that led to this numbering,
rather than in the thing itself or in the manner of
conducting it. The prosperity of the tribes of Israel was doubtless greater now than ever it had
been since God bade their great forefather look
toward heaven and. tell the stars, and had assured
him, So shall thy seed be. Gen. xv. 5. It was
a great thing that David should be king over such
a people; a great matter that so great prosperity
should be under his rule; a great matter that they




PESTILENCE OF THE NUMBERING.   371
held now that wide land as God had promised.
Yet the increase of Israel had not been owing to
David's conduct, but to the divine blessing; nor
had he any just reason to indulge the vain pride of
his heart, the foolish conceit of his own greatness,
the miserable confidence of his own strength in
view of the prosperity of the kingdom. There is
no sin to which men are so prone in every land, in
every age and in every possible condition as the
sin of pride, for the sin will not be banished even
where there seems no room for its exercise. Yet
there is no sin in a servant of God which more
quickly awakens the divine displeasure. God will
not give his glory to another. This is a matter of
no trivial importance for our notice, for we cannot
reasonably question that tokens of divine displeasure are often seen in our churches because prosperity makes us proud; and in the growth of our
denomination or of our Church we become conceited and arrogant, as if our hand had wrought
our enlargement. Here is a thing in which we
cannot be too jealous of our motives. It is not
wrong to look around us and to look abroad to see
the work which the Church of God has to do, but
it is wrong to be proud of our zeal to do it. It is
not wrong to note our progress; to mark the difference between the present and the past; to rejoice in
the enlargement of Zion; but we are prone to glory
in what we are, and to claim at least a share in the
hlonour, which all belongs to God. Let no denomi



372            LIFE OF DAVID.
nation grow boastful, or God will divide and scatter
its numbers, and turn the energies of its members
against themselves till they are humbled in the
dust. Let no congregation be puffed up in a sense
of superiority, or the displeasure of the Lord will
be seen upon the very matters of its pride, andl
this sin will bring every hurtful curse. Let no
pastor be proud of his preaching, or God will make
it profitless.  Let no Christian think of himself or
of his attainments or of his doings " more highly
than he ought to think," for the blessing of the
Lord maketh rich, and his blessings he will not
give to such as rob him of his honour.
The numbering of the people went on in spite
of Joab's remonstrance, but it was not cheerfully
done nor fully done, and David, after all, was disappointed in the end he aimed at. Different numbers
are recorded in the two accounts; perhaps because
some were omitted in the one case and included in
the other; perhaps because the incompleteness of
the returns affected these reports of them.  Before
the matter was finished, David saw his error and
bitterly lamented it; but the sin was now done.
We need not stay now to ask, Why the land should
be smitten for a sin that seems to belong peculiarly
to David? The Judge of all the earth does right
even in cases where we cannot discern it.  We
know that often the nation suffers for the sin of the
ruler, but we know also that there are ever reasons
to justify the divine dealings to them. It may be




PESTILENCE OF THE NUMBERING.   373
that the sin of the nation in supporting the rebellion of Absalom, or other sins not recorded here,
may fully justify the severities that find but their
occasion in David's transgression.
The messenger to David is the prophet Gad; he
is directed to offer the king his choice that by one
of three things God should punish this sin. The
choice lay between three years of famine, three
months of defeat before his enemies, or three days
of pestilence. Here again there is a difference of
the numbers stated. In 2 Sam. xxiv. 13 it is seven
years of famine; in 1 Chron. xxi. 12 it is three
years. The Hebrew  method of writing numbers
makes it not at all surprising that many errors
should creep into their books, nor need we regard
such errors as proofs of mistake in the original
writers. Any one who looks at the two Hebrew
letters signifying three (A) and seven (t) will feel
no surprise that one copying the sacred writings
should mistake the one for the other.  Yet there is
this conjecture which might make both right: The
additional years of famine might make seven years
in all in this way. There had been three years for
Saul's sin against the Gibeonites; if the next year
after these was a sabbatical year, in which the
Israelites neither sowed nor reaped, and at the end
of this a new famine should begin for three years,
such a judgment might properly be termed a famine
of either three or seven years.
This message of the prophet threw David into a




374            LIFE OF DAVID.
distressing perplexity. He knew something of all
these evils. None of them are light, and by each
of them does Divine Providence punish the sin of
man.  David had but recently passed through
three years of famine; he was a man of war, and
knew too well the severity of that scourge, and it
is possible that he had some idea of the fearful ravages of pestilence. It was a sad strait indeed.
The famine would be the longest. Happily, ill the
kindness of God's providence toward us, we know
very little-nothing, indeed, by any national experience-of the miseries that spring up from the
prevalence of famine. But we have read the authentic and appalling accounts of its deplorable
ravages elsewhere.  The wretchedness brought
upon Ireland by a time of famine is yet fresh in
the memory of us all. Of the ravages of war we
have all read; yet perhaps few minds are not more
appalled by the dreadful march of a pestilence than
by any other evil that ever comes among a people.
The more dreadful severity of this is marked in
the prophet's offer by the brief space of time allotted to it. Three days of pestilence are placed as
equivalent to three months of the horrors of war or
to as many years of the slow wastings of famine.
We are told that seventy thousand men died in
Israel during the prevalence of this plague, and
even then the hand of the destroying angel was
stayed in mercy before he had done all he might
do. Some think that David made no choice in the




PESTILENCE OF THE NUMBERING.   375
case, but referred it back to God. But it seems
evident rather that he makes choice of pestilence
not because he thought this in itself a higher evil
than the others, but because more explicitly it is in
the Lord's hands and is apart from human instrumentality.  In war, human passions are enlisted;
and though nothing can occur without divine permission, it greatly aggravates our griefs that fierce
and hostile men inflict them. A famine is more
directly from the divine hand, but the avaricious
and selfish passions of men do much to increase the
sufferings of such a time; for food is hoarded to
secure larger prices and violence is committed
without remorse to appease the cravings of hunger.
A time of pestilence is not without its evidences
of human depravity; all experience shows that
men become hardened in iniquity when death is
nearest in its most hideous forms, and many a
wretched  deathbed  is forsaken by those that
should lavish there their kindest attentions.
Yet the silent march of the pestilence is more
directly under God's control, without the semblance of human instrumentality, and David desires to fall into His hands from whom he could
hope for mercy. It has been remarked that this
choice was noble on the part of David, because
thus himself and his fhmily were placed upon a
level with the rest of Israel in exposure to the
coming evil. If he had chosen famine, the standing and wealth of the royal family would suffi



376            LIFE OF DAVID.
ciently protect themi from suffering; if he had
chosen wuar, the people had already forbidden him
to go forth to battle, and therefore it involved no
personal exposure.  But to choose pestilence made
his family as liable as any other in the land. Yet
let us not overlook this great lesson, that they who
best know the Lord have the largest confidence in
his tender mercy. David had great reason to
know the Lord's justice, but he had large experience of his forbearance, his forgiveness and readiness to pardon.  But it is easy to see that in the
depth of David's feelings of grief and concern for
his people he has no personal selfishness.  He
recognizes himself as the chief culprit, and with
the elders of Israel he humbled himself before God
and supplicated his mercy. It would seem that the
disease began at one end of the land and rapidly
passed toward Jerusalem.  We are familiar with
the progress of the cholera from  one point to
another, so that its march can be easily indicated.
In this case it would seem that an angel became
visible as the plague approached Jerusalem, and
a drawn sword in his hand denoted his destructive
errand.  David and the elders hastened to meet.him —not at all as braving his power, but not deterred by their fear of him from their post of duty,
that they might pray for divine deliverance. The
angel stood by a remarkable spot. It was the
threshing-floor of Ornan or Araulnah the Jebusite.
By the Jews it is supposed to be the place where




PESTILENCE OF TIIE NUMBERING.   37-7
Abraham had been stayed by divine interference
when about to sacrifice his son Isaac. David was
directed by the prophet Gad to erect an altar upon
this spot. We may admire the spirit of both
David and Ornan. The owner of the land came
forth nobly to present the land to the service of
the Lord; as a king Araunah gives to the king;
but David will not serve the Lord with that which
costs him nothing. He wishes the offering to be
at his cost, not at the cost of Araunah. Two
prices are mentioned here, and they are very different. Fifty shekels of silver bought the oxen and
the threshing-floor, 2 Sam. xxiv. 24; but six
hundred shekels of gold were also paid, and this,
it is likely, was for a larger place. It is likely
that David now or soon after understood that the
temple was to be built upon this spot, and by the
larger sum he bought ground enough for this purpose. The Lord accepted the sacrifice at that time
by kindling the fire upon the altar (1 Chron. xxi.
26), as he had done upon the altar of Moses in the
wilderness (Lev. ix. 24), and as afterward he did in
Solomon's temple (2 Chron. vii. 1), and upon the
altar erected by Elijah upon Mount Carmel. 1
Kings xviii. 38. Thus David not only recognized
the divine acceptance, but knew that in this place,
where Solomon afterward built the temple (2
Chron. iii. 1), would the Lord be pleased to hear
the prayers of his people.




CHAPTER X X-.
IPREPARATION -FOR B tILDING TH TE MPLE.
W E have had occasion before to speak of David's
earnest desire to build a magnificent house
for the worship of God. The very conception shows
his zeal for the Lord; but here is a lesson on record
for all ages of the Church, that our offerings for religious purposes are a favour to us, and not to himn,
and that they must be so rendered as to glorify him
or they will not prove acceptable. The Lord approved of David's wish to build a house for his
name, but he was unwilling that he should do this.
The temple itself he accepted, and in the succeeding reign it was built, but a man of war from his
youth seemed not a fit builder for a house devoted
to the God of peace. God does not allow us to do
all we desire to do for him. It may not be for a
reason so definite as this assigned in respect to
David, yet for wise reasons he does not give us the
privilege of seeing his work prosper according to
our desires. In this case, if we feel as we should,
we will imitate the conduct of David. He could
not build the temple, but he could make such preparations for it as would enable his son and successor
378




BUILDING THE TEMPLE.           379
to proceed more rapidly in the work and to prosecute it with ease. Because he could not do all he
wished, he did not conclude that therefore he would
do nothing. So no man ever reasons whose heart
is really interested in any work.  When men are
influenced by ambition or pride, or any other selfish
prompting, they are unwilling to bear an inferior
part where they wish to be conspicuous; but when
men are truly interested in the progress of any
work, they will cheerfully do the part which Providence assigns,; they will do all they can here, as
zealously as if they were made more prominent.
The man who loses his interest in the Church of
God because he fills a place of little influence, would
not do the most important things in a proper spirit
if he had them to do.  Hardly anything in his
history makes David appear in a more honourable
light than his humble acquiescence in the divine
will when told that he should not build the temple,
and his diligent care, after this, to make all possible
preparation for its subsequent erection.
After the plague had ceased, David bought perhaps the entire possession of Araunah the Jebusite,
that upon this ground his son should build the
house of the Lord. This temple itself, when afterward built, was one of the most costly and magnificent buildings that man has ever framed, if indeed
it did not surpass all others in splendour.  If we
are disposed to wonder how a house should be
planned on so grand a scale in an age like that, the




380            LIFE OF DAVID.
solution of the matter is very easy. As when Moses
built the tabernacle God showed him in Mount
Sinai a pattern of all things, so David was instructed by the Spirit of God to plan the temple
and the orders of the priests to serve there. 1
Chron. xxviii. 12. So he declares: "All this the
Lord made me understand in writing by his hand
upon me, even all the works of this pattern." 1
Chron. xxviii. 19. In undertaking any service for
God, it is of chief importance that we are guided
by the divine will; and though it is true under
every dispensation, especially in New Testament
times, that many things are left to our voluntary
action without specific directions of measures to be
adopted, yet the great principles by which we are
to be guided are explicitly given, and we are accepted in our cheerful desires to advance the glory
of our God when mindful of his teachings.
The preparations made by David were on a scale
of great magnificence. When we read of the thousands of talents of gold and silver, of the immense
weight of brass, of the precious stones, we are surprised at the wealth of his kingdom. We may
readily suppose that much of his wealth was gathered through his wars with the neighbouring nations, but we may justly consider that David
devoted to this great enterprise the chief part of
liis riches. He says: "Behold in my trouble I
have prepared for the house of the Lord a hundred
thousand talents of gold and a thousand thousand




BUILDING THE TEMPLE.           381
talents of silver, of brass and iron without weight,
for it is in abundance; timber also and stone have
I prepared." 1 Chron. xxii. 14. It is difficult to
estimate in modern value the worth of ancient
money.  And it is impossible to make accurate
statements on this subject.  We are not certain
hlow much the Jewish talent was; we know that
the value of money itself varies from one age to
another, and that the relative value of gold and
silver has changed within our own memory; and
for these reasons we can have no definite idea of
the value of David's offering.
Besides the munificent offering made by David
in preparation for the temple, he used his influence
to induce the people to offer freely their contributions to the same end. Indeed, it would seem that
not only did he appropriate to this purpose treasures
that had previously been laid up by men now dead,
but that some of the living who had taken spoils
in war consecrated them to this purpose. Especial
mention is made of the veteran Joab, whose long
career of victories without a reverse must have
thrown much wealth into his hands, and of this he
also makes his offering. A certain man, named
Shelomith, was appointed treasurer, and this record is made of the contributions:  "Shelomith
and his brethren were over all the treasures of the
dedicated things which David the king, and the
chief fathers, the captains over thousands and hundreds and the captain of the hosts, had dedicated.




382            LIFE OF DAVID.
Out of the spoils won in battle did they dedicate
to maintain the house of the Lord; and all that
Samuel the seer, and Saul the son of Kish, and
Abner the son of Ner, and Joab the son of Zeruiah,
had dedicated, and whosoever had dedicated anything, it was under the hand of Shelomith and of
his brethren." 1 Chron. xxvi. 26-28. But all the
people were also now called upon by the king to
nmake their free-will offerings, as Moses in constructing the tabernacle in the wilderness had called for
the voluntary offerings of their fathers. And if a
noble example had then been set before them, the
people now had reason to follow such a precedent,
and were heartily disposed to do so. The king explained to them that the work now undertaken was
no ordinary enterprise, nor designed for mere human
purposes-it was a palace for the Lord God. He
urged upon the principal men of the nation that
God had given them rest on every side, had made
the people of the laid peaceful and subdued the
country before them  (1 Chron. xxi. 18); he told
them of the preparations he had personally made,
and of an offering of special love which he had
consecrated to adorn the house in some specified
particulars (1 Chron. xxix. 3), and reminded them
that the transfer of the sceptre from the hands of
age and experience to the tender hands of his
son made it the more needfuil that they should
give him a hearty co-operation. To this call to.consecrate their cheerful offerings to God the princes




BUILDING THE TEMPLE.            383
and people freely responded, and a large amount
both of money and of materials for building was
received at their hands.  Great joy filled the hearts
of the king and of his people in this ready service.
And we have reason to judge that in these freewill offerings the king and the people of Israel
were actuated by holy and proper principles, as
much as the mind of man can ever be. There may
have been offerings made from ostentation or vanity,
as in our holiest services we find cause to lament
how deficient we are in upright motives, and as
mingling with those that truly fear God there are
ever in the earthly Church some whose hearts are
not right before him. How hard it is to bring
home to our darkened minds the reasonable
and salutary conviction that we gain nothing
before God by services that are insincerely
made! Surely the impressive description which
our Lord Jesus gives of many of the religious acts
done all around him should warn us from copying
the things that are done "TO BE SEEN OF MAN;"
and his solemn declaration, " Verily, verily, they
have their reward," should make us long, far in preference to such a reward, for the approbation of our
" Father who seeth in secret." If we did but keep
in mind that no service can be acceptable in his
sight unless it is rendered out of regard to him,
that all inferior motives mar our own enjoyment as
well as our acceptance, that he knows the entire
workings of our minds, and that really his smile is




384            LIFE OF DAVID.
the richest reward his creatures- can enjoy, we would
more carefully strive to put away from us every
earthly motive and truly endeavour to glorify him.
And it may be well for us to notice that scarcely
any of the duties enjoined upon us do more truly
exhibit the temper of a pious mind than the contribution of our substance to the service of God.
Scarcely any duty, perhaps, gives more perplexity
to a mind truly conscientious than the duty of benevolence. It is ever found a hard thing to decide
what proportion of his substance a pious man
should give. In many matters the path of right is
plain. In speaking the truth not a word or shade
of falsehood can be allowed; in honesty not a trifle
of fraud can be admitted; no thought of impurity
or of hatred must the upright heart entertain. But
the line of division between benevolence and covetousness is not so plainly marked.  There are objects of apparent benevolence where it is hard to
decide whether the Christian should give or not
give; it is harder to tell what proportion should
be given here or there, and still harder to decide
in what proportion of his receipts or his possessions he should contribute to objects like these.
These practical difficulties all tend to make this
very thing-the contribution of our substance for
the glory of God and the honour of religion-one
of the most valuable tests of personal piety that
we can find in all the varieties of Christian duty.
The very fact that these are FREE-WILL OFFER



BUILDING THE TEMPLE.            385
INGS; that the amount is not designated by any
express terms of a divine statute, but left to a
cheerful heart; that the worldly standard is so low
that we are but little tempted to give too much
lest our good name should be reproached; and that
the smile of our Father is the chief approbation
we can expect,-all these things tend to make the
benevolence of a man a most important test of
personal piety. A man may be honest and truthfill without piety, for his conscience and his reputation lead him to these things, and in benevolence
doubtless many are liberal far beyond others by
natural temper and education. But in benevolent
matters a man may come so much farther short of
his duty without reproach either from his conscience or from the world-it is so much more a
matter of free-will, left so by Providence designedly,
that we can see the inclinations of the heart more
plainly here than elsewhere. How easy is it to do
those things on which the heart is set, and what
pleasure we find in doing them!  Yet let me not
be supposed to mean by this statement of the natter that benevolence is not a duty in the Church
of God, or that the conscience of the Christian has
less to do in this than in other matters.  I would
rather say that nowhere is it more needful for a
man to have a conscience, as well as a heart, to
lead him to the performance of a most important
duty, than in this very thing-consecrating his
property to the service of religion.  The reputation
25




386            LIFE OF DAVID.
he desires to maintain in the community will lead
many a* man to speak truly and deal honestly,
while yet he is regardless both of truth and
honesty. But in a matter like this the community
may still retain its confidence in one who is very
far from being liberal in the sight of God, and the
man may form a high estimate of his own liberality, because even the divine law itself has made
no definite proportion of his property, his duty for
benevolent contributions.  Perhaps in this matter
the deepest source of wrong and of injury to the
cause of religion lies in this-that each man, being
made the judge in his own case, is led thereby to
regard his own estimate of duty as the correct one,
and considers himself as liberal because he gives
all he thinks he ought to give. This would be
true, provided this man has given due care and
pains to find out what he ought to give. No man
ought to be considered as truthful who tells a story
which he thinks is true while yet he has taken no
pains to discover whether it is or is not. Every
conscientious man in paying his debts is willing to
find out how much he owes, as well as willing to
pay the full amount. Now why should not this as
truly apply to the duty of benevolence?-and indeed
so much the more just because this duty is so peculiarly referred back to ourselves and made to rise
fromn the cheerful service of our hearts. It is true,
indeed, that when we give any sum that our circumstances will permit for the promoting of the




BUILDING THE TEMPLE.          387
cause of God, we but render back to him of that
which he has given us. In everything we must be
infinitely inferior to God in our imitations of him.
But perhaps no man ever comes nearer the character of God-the GREAT, and, indeed, the ONLY,
GIVER-than he does who cheerfully consecrates
his property to secure large blessings upon the
souls of men —it may be upon men he has never
seen, or souls that have been or are thankless for
all the efforts that can be made for their salvation.
If it is the wonder of Christ's grace that he gave
so freely and with such self-denial, the apostle urges
our knowledge of his grace who for our sakes became poor that he may prove the sincerity of our
love. 2 Cor. viii. 8, 9.
We return from these thoughts to say again that
David and the people of Israel seem to be influenced by righteous principles in the large free-will
offering now  made to God.  The king makes
acknowledgments for them that all these things,
which they now cheerfully render to his service,
they had but received at his hands; to him belonged the greatness. Riches and honour came of
him, and they had but rendered back his bounty.
" Who am I and what is my people that we should
be able to offer so willingly after this sort? For
all things come of thee, and of thine own have we
given thee." 1 Chron. xxix. 14, seq.
Besides making these preparations of materials
and of means for erecting the temple of the Lord,




388            LIFE OF DAVID.
David made further arrangements for its building.
As we find afterward that the stones of the.temple
were hewn at the quarries before they were brought
to the place where they were to be used, and as
thus-so complete was the plan and so competent
the architects —everything at the temple went on
quietly till all was done, so it is likely that many
of the stones were cut out and prepared during the
lifetime of David.  We have instances of large
public buildings in this country that have occupied
many years in their construction, but our experience
is nothing in architecture. The cathedral at Cologne, in Europe, was three hundred years in building. David seems to have made a law for employing
the strangers in the land as masons to hew the
wrought stones. 1 Chron. xxii. 2.  Who these
strangers were is explained afterward. When the
Israelites conquered Canaan they were not able
wholly to drive out the old inhabitants, but the
descendants of the Amorites, the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Hivites and the Jebusites remained
there still. It may be that their idolatries were
put down, but they seem never to have been incorporated with the Israelites; and upon them was
laid much of the harder service in building the
house of the Lord. 1 Kilngs ix. 20.
In still further preparation for the service of God
in the temple, David made arrangements f6r the
duties of the Levites toward the house of the Lord.
He divided them into four great classes: twenty



BUILDING THE TEMPLE.           389
four thousand to set forward the work of the house
of the Lord, six thousand officers and judges,
four thousand porters, and four thousand musitians. These seem to have been subdivided into
smaller divisions, so that they took turns in their
various duties.  For example, we are told hdv
many of the porters were to be employed as watchmen on the different sides of the house —each man's
post and his time being so understood that no spot
of the sacred ground should be without its guards.
It would be easy of course to provide amply for
the services of the temple, both in resources and in
men, when there was but one consecrated place for
their most devout services for the entire nation.
The great multitudes of Levites, in comparison
with the population, doubtless offered temptations
to this tribe to forget their sacred character, but if
this body of men had zealously devoted themselves
to the interest of education and religion, no people
in the world ever had arrangements better adapted
to instruct the masses than we find among the
Jewish people.
These offerings of David and his people were
either made upon a day of solemn convocation, or
such a day was held in thanksgiving for the success
of their efforts in collecting means. It was a day
of many sacrifices made to God after the manner
of their worship.  At David's exhortation the
people joined in solemn worship to God, and the
solemn second coronation of Solomon as their




390            LIFE OF DAVID.
future king in the stead of David closed the impressive scene. These things seemed to have occurred in the seventieth year of David's life; and
he soon afterward sunk into a state of imbecility,
Tfrom which he seems at times to have rallied before
his death.
The dispensation of the Church to which we belong is so entirely different from the one in which
he lived that we are often struck by the contrast
rather than with the similarity between them.
There may spring forth from the matter that has
now been before us an instructive line of thought
to remind us that we are in circumstances not so
widely different from the position of David, and
that in every matter of comparison the advantage
is upon our side.
It was in the mind of David to build a house
for the Lord God. This desire sprang not forth
from any special command which he had received
from God, and yet it was well pleasing in his sight.
As for us, our God has commanded us to build a
temple to his praise, and our duty is thus laid
upon us, so that we cannot innocently turn away
from it. The house that David had it in his mind
to erect was to be exceedingly magnificent; the
fame of it was to fill all lands; and we cannot
doubt but that many a blinded pagan came, in
after years, into the city of Jerusalem  to view
the splendours of that building, who there learned,
it may be, the greater glory of that God for whose




BUILDING THE TEMPLE.           391
name it was built. But the temple of God there
was but little'to his glory in comparison with the
temple we are to erect to his praise. Our temple
is the living Church of the living God himself. It
is no forced or unnatural analogy that compares the
Church of God to a temple. It is used again and
again by the inspired writers-one fitly used and
one easily understood. The God we serve " dwelleth not in temples made with hands," and no house
which man's wealth or wisdom can erect is so magnificent and so worthy of his abode as the humble
and the contrite heart.
In building this temple for the living God we
are permitted to bear a part. He himself has
planned the buildings; he himself superintends its
erection; he has laid in Zion its sure foundationstone, even the Lord Jesus Christ himself; to
him shall be the glory. This temple is long in
building. Its foundations were laid in Paradise
in that dark and gloomy day of Satan's first triumph over man, and its top-stone is to be brought
forward with shoutings of grace just before the
final sounding of the trump of the archangel. We
stand and see the raising of this glorious house of
God. As Solomon's temple was built without the
noise of a hammer or plane, so the kingdom of
God cometh not with observation. Much is
done now, and much is to be done in preparation
for the building which is to go on after we are
dead.




392            LIFE OF DAVID.
The Church of God, as we are allowed to promote it, is far more for his glory than the temple
which David desired to build.  If he would have
reckoned it the chief honour of his life to build such
a house, how thankfill we should be for the privilege of building the Church of God!-how joyfhul
in the assurance that against all our efforts the
gates of hell shall not prevail!  We may look at
the Church as to her principles and as to her
power, and we may rejoice in the prospects before
her. These great truths of the word of God are
to be spread abroad in all the earth; we are directly
commanded to use means to give them the widest
dissemination, and they are certainly to fill the
whole earth. The triumph of these principles we
are certainly assured of by the word of the Lord.
This does not mean that every soul that hears the
gospel shall embrace its precious truths and find
its great salvation. Neither the word of God, nor
the past history of the Churclh, nor our own experience would lead us to look for such results. But
the triumph of the gospel shall be great. It shall
never be preached without success. It shall never
be received by a single soul without great benefit to
himself and great glory to God. The transforming power of this gospel, the precious fruits of
holy living, the earnest exertions of benevolence
which it calls forth-all these honour God more
than all the gold and incense of the temple of Solomon. Our temple is built not of hewn stones, but




BUILDING THE TEMPLE.            393
of living stones. These are the souls of men, taken
from the quarry of corrupt human nature by the
choice of the Great Architect himself, and built by
him into his spiritual house. 1 Peter ii. 5. Our
ornaments are not gold and silver and precious
stones, but hearts filled with love, meekness, peace
and humility, which are in the sight of God of
great price. Our great Sacrifice has been for us
offered once for all to reconcile us to God, and our
incense is the pure and humble utterance of our
prayers and thanksgivings in the name of our
Lord Jesus Christ.
And now why may we not look upon ourselves
as called upon, as truly as were David and his people upon that day, to build this temple for the Lord
of hosts? This Church of God shall certainly be
built; we are called to bear our part in it; this
privilege we should not wish either to avoid or to
lay aside from our sight.  May not the question of
the king of Israel be seriously urged upon each of
us as one of personal interest-as one claiming
legitimately our serious and prayerful thought?
Who, then, is willing to consecrate his service
this day unto the Lord? The call is for willing
hearts.  Who will come?




CHAPTER XXI.
THE DE3ATs OF SOHIHEI_ AND JOAB.
AGE and infirmities now led the mind of David
to consider his approaching death, and to
make those wise provisions which were needful for
the welfare of his kingdom after his departure. It
would seem that the law of the kingdom of Israel
did not demand that the eldest son should succeed
to the throne of his father; or if this was the general rule, and the expectation of the people (see 1
Kings ii. 15), yet this government was so specially
under the rule of God that the succession was arranged according to the divine will. Although
Solomon was a muich younger man than some of
his brothers, we are told that his promotion to the
throne was from  the direction of Jehovah.  So
David says, "Of all my sons (for the Lord hath.
given me many sons), he hath chosen Solomon my
son to sit upon the throne of the kingdom of the
Lord over Israel." 1 Chron. xxviii. 5. How fully
this may have been published-if published at all
before Solomon's coronation-we do not know, but
the expectation of the kingdom had filled the mind
of another of David's sons. This was Adonijah,
394




DEATH OF SHIMEI AND JOAB.    395
the son of Haggith. He is described as a very
goodly man, but it gives us no exalted estimate of
the family training of David's household when it
is added, his father had not displeased him at any
time. Parents lay up for themselves trouble, and
fbr their children even greater trouble, by undue
indulgence, No man ever learns to govern himself
except by first learning to submit to government,
and he who is expected also to govern others most
of all needs this earlier discipline. Had Adonijah
been better governed in his father's prime, he might
longer have survived his father's age.
The ambition of the young prince follows too
closely in the fatal steps of Absalom. Taking advantage of the feebleness of his aged father, and
perhaps supposing that his end was near, Adonijah
made his preparations to secure the crown. Among
those who joined him in the undertaking were Joab
and Abiathar the priest. It is not necessary to aggravate their treason by supposing that they knew
that Solomon was divinely chosen for the throne.
This knowledge would indeed make their sin much
greater, but there is crime enough in any hasty
movement of this kind to condemn the actors. To
presume that a man ought to be king, to take
measures to make him king, and this during the
lifetime of another monarch, without taking pains
to consult him, and to the especial slighting of some
whose counsel ought certainly to have been asked,
betrays more than inconsiderate action. No man




396            LIFE OF DAVID.
may presume to put forth his hand to sovereign
authority without so just a right that he is willing
to risk his life upon the maintenance of it. The
plot of Adonijah had gone in the very track of Absalom so far as to adopt the honour of chariots with
men to run before him, and further a sumptuous
f'east was prepared perhaps for his coronation. The
guests were assembled at En-rogel, which, though
outside the walls of the city, is very near Jerusalem, and between the walls and the brook KIedron
to the south-east. But these preparations did not
escape the attention of David's experienced counsellors. Measures were immediately taken to secure
the interference of David. The prophet Nathan
visited Queen Bathsheba, and arranged with her
that she should first visit David to bring the matter before him, and that he would follow, as if
without design, to corroborate her statement. The
king was feeble, but it appears he was capable of
Being roused to exertion on needful occasion. Bathsheba reminded him of the oath he had given to
her that her son Solomon should succeed him on
the' throne, and then informed him of these proceedings on thle part of Adonijah. She called his
attention to the fact that his decision in the case
would be regarded as settling the matter before the
eyes of the people, and, as excusing -her zeal, she
plead not simply her concern for Solomon, but the
danger of both herself and her son if a different
hand held the sceeptre. The king had no time to




DEATH OF SHIMEI AND JOAB.          397
make, his reply before it was announced that the
prophet Nathan wvas, desirous of an interview.
Bathsheba, therefore, retired until Nathan came in
and reported, as if unconscious of the queen's visit,
that Adonijah and his friends were carousing as if
for a coronation. Hearing these things, the mind
of David was fully aroused, and he acted with a
prompt decision needful for the occasion and worthy of his best days. Recalling Bathsheba, lihe
filled her heart with joy by renewing his solemn
oath that Solomon should indeed be his successor
upon the throne. Immediately after her departure he called for Zadok the associated high priest,
and Nathan the prophet, and Benaiah the captain
of his guards, andordered that without delay they
should take the usual measures to proclaim  Solomon king. In this measure there was great wisdomrn and propriety. It is not uncommon for a
younger person to be associated with an elder upon
the throne-for a reigning king to be virtually dethroned by his infirmities; and monarchs, even in
their prime vigour and in the tide of successful
rule, have been known voluntarily to resign the
crown and sceptre to others, and to throw off the
cares of royalty. After the experience of trouble
from  his own family already felt by David, especially perhaps as other sons besides Adonijah may
have been too much accustomed to have their own
way, it would have been most unwise for David to
leave unsettled the question of his successor until




398            LIFE OF DAVID.
after his decease. An open question like this might
have thrown the whole kingdom into discord.
The officers appointed by the king hastened to
do as he commanded.  They placed the young
prince Solomon —now perhaps about eighteen years
of age-upon the royal mule, and proceeding to
Gihon, on the opposite side of the city fiom the
assembly in favour of Adonijah, and also without
the walls, the priest Zadok took a horn of oil from
the tabernacle and solemnly anointed Solomon
king.  Then returning to the city, and passing
through the streets in open procession, the proclamation was made for a new monarch before the
people knew what was going on. The summary
settlement of the matter, which perhaps may already have awakened an anxiety for coming
troubles; the popularity, it may be, of Solomon,
whose wisdom, already apparent beyond his years,
may have excited affection, though his tender age
may have created apprehension; the stately march
of the royal guards, the sound of the trumpet and,
the unwonted ceremonial, called forth the great
crowd of inhabitants, who received Solomon with
loud acclamations and passed with him from street
to street with every demonstration of joy. The
noise of the uproar-especially the trumpets' stirring notes-reached the ears of the revellers that
were with Adonijah. Joab was the first to notice
the matter. Nor were they long in doubt of the
meaning of it.  Jonathan, the son of Abiathar,




DEATH OF SHIMEI AND JOAB.         399
came. in from the city, and gave them  a full account of the coronation, of David's satisfaction in
the case, and of the actual occupancy of the throne
by King Solomon.
The entire scheme of the conspirators was thus
at once completely foiled, and they saw themselves
not only defeated, but put in the utmost peril.
They had begtin a thing whose defeat subjected
them to the charge of treason. The banqueters
therefore hastily dispersed in dismay, every man
consulting for his own safety, and chiefly anxious
that his presence there might not become publicly
known. Adonijah, fearing for his personal safety,
fled to the tabernacle and caught hold upon the
horns of the altar, and refused to leave until Solomon had given his oath that he would not put him
to death. The young king showed the greatest
dignity and wisdom as well as justice in the case.
He declined to give his oath, but simply passed his
word that so long as Adonijah behaved himself
properly he should be in safety. When he was
brought before him and saluted him as king, he
bade him go to his own house, which was equivalent to a dismissal from  all public services-as
light a punishment as could well be laid on one
who had aspired to sit upon the throne.
The temporary revival of David's vigour gave
him an opportunity to give certain charges to his
successor respecting his conduct upon the throne
of Israel. We may pass by,for the present the




400            LIFE OF DAVID.
deeply interesting charges, considered as the words
of a pious, dying father to his beloved son, and
simply notice now those that have reference to certain matters of public duty. We do not follow the
order of the narrative.
He urges upon Solomon to show kindness to the
sons of Barzillai the Gileadite.  This venerable
and wealthy man had shown great kindness to
David in the time of his distress, and he had then
made offers which showed his gratitude.  That
now the sons of Barzillai are mentioned, and not
Barzillai hiniself, may intimate that his life was
already ended. This would not be strange, as he
was older than David then; yet, because at that time
he had declined any personal favours, the mention
of his sons now will not prove that he was dead.
It is likely that this charge of kindness to his
family was not forgotten by Solomon.
Another very grave matter in the last words of
David to Solomon is the injunction made upon him
concerning Shimei the son of Gera. It will be remembered that this man met David as he left Jerusalem upon the approach of Absalom and heaped
grievous curses upon him. Even then he would
have been put to death but for David's interference,
and afterward, at the restoration, he made early
submission and the tender of his aid in quieting
the kingdom. Then David gave him  a pardon,
and swore to him that he should not die. It has
therefore been laid as a serious reproach to David




DEATH OF SHIMEI AND JOAB.         401
tlhat utpon hiis dying bed, and almost with his latest
breath, he should remember the offence of Shimei,
not only now passed, but also sealed with -an oath
of forgiveness. We are accustomed to feel that the
dying couch, especially of a believer, should be a
place sacred from  the intrusion  of unworthy
thoughts, and that no unworthy motives are more
unsuited to a time like that than those of revenge.
Ilthen a soul, conscious of his numerous and aggravated transgressions, is about to pass into thl presence of the great Judge, when its only hope of
acceptance there is in the pardon of God graciously
given, he ought to be more ready than ever to forgive the offences which his fellow-men have done
against hilm. It is no part of our duty, in considering the life and conduct of David, to vindicate
his motives, whether right or wrong; neither is it
any part of our duty to judge harshly that he is
in the wrong, when perhaps lie may not be. Here,
as elsewhere, the feelings and doings of pious men
are no criterion of right, except as they accord with
the holy principles of the word of God; yet let us
judge calmly what are the best teachings of each
historical scene.
Dr. Kennidott urges that according to the usage
of Hebrew writers the "NOT" of the 9th verse
(1 Kings ii.) should be rendered also with the
latter clause: " Hold him not guiltless, yet bring
not his hoary head down to' the grave with blood."
He cites such instances as these: Ps. i. 5, the He



402            LIFE OF DAVID.
brew reads literally, " The ungodly shall not stand
in the judgrilent, and sinners in the congregation of
tile righteous."  The plain sense is, "nor sinners
in the congregation," etc. So Ps. xxxviii. 1: " Rebuke me not in thy wrath, and chasten me in thy
hot displeasure;" the sense certainly is, "nor chasten me."  So Isa. xiii. 22; xxii. 4; Ps. ix. 18;
Prov. xxix. 12; xxx. 3. The sense, then, would
be, " Hold him not guiltless, but do not put himr
to death."  And it seems true, certainly, that Solomon respected the oath of David to Shimlei, and
did not put him  to death for this crime. But
Shimei was a man of considerable influence. When
he made his submission to David, he was at the
head of a thousand men, yet he seems to have
been a troublesome and dangerous, as well as a
presumptuous, character. KEing Solomon therefore
thought it best to put a check upon his proceedilgs, and impose terns upon him, by keeping
which he should live. Shimei understood and
assented to these terms, and had he kept them he
would not have met with a violent end. His death,
then, though connected certainly with his former
deed, was the result of his renewed transgression
against Solomon.
Yet with the understanding that the oath of
David was respected, so that the life of Shimei was
not taken for that offence, there remains behind a
feeling of surprise and regret that David should
recall such a matter at such a time, and counsel his




DEATH OF SHITMEI AlND JOAB.       403
son to watch the movements of Shimei. The only
possible vindication, and perhaps it is sufficient,
must be found in the official position of David. It
is not through the impulse of private feelings, not
through.the actings of revenge, that he utters these
advices. He is leaving in the hands of a very
young son a kingdom that has lately been in great
distraction, and he needs to put him upon his
guard against seditious persons. Whatever hopes
he may have had in the wisdom of Solomon, he
could hardly then anticipate his future eminence,
and it was needful to give him prudent forewarnings. Even if we understand him to advise the
death of Shimei, if we read the passage as it
stands in the English Bible, it may still be true
that the impulse of David's feelings formerly had
done a public wrong which he is desirous of correcting. It may have proved so that he had improperly bound himself to spare Shimei, and now
he charges his son to devise means by which the
oath might be kept and yet the ends of public
justice secured.  But in the worst form  of the
matter, Shimei's life was safe except against his
own folly.
There is but one additional remark on this matter. We cannot but see in the close criticism to
which everything in the sacred volume is subjected
the disposition of men to scrutinize the Bible more
closely than any other book, and at the same time
the most convincing proof that these are indeed




404             LIFE OF DAVID.
lively oracles of divine authority.  Any vindication we make of the Bible is apart from the conduct which  its principles clearly disavow.  If
David here is in the wrong, we need no more
apologize for him than for his former sin against
Uriah. If this was a case of revenge, it is not
only contrary to the eminent excellence of David's
long-continued demeanour toward Saul under great
provocation, but expressly contrary to teachings
both of the Old and New Testaments.  But apart
from this solution of the question, it is obvious that
if plain and unquestionable objections could be
brought against the moral teachings of the Bible,
cavillers would not be driven to pick out such as
this. Oftentimes we can tell the good character of
a man from the fatct that his enemies and those who
are prejudiced against him are compelled to draw
their objections from the most trivial things. We
are sometimes led to think, " These matters are beneath the notice of a candid mind; if his enemies
can say nothing more than this, he must be a good
kind of a man."  Yet we do sometimes become
prejudiced against persons for matters which, if
true, are of very minor importance. But we judge
of the Bible, not only from the trifling nature of the
cavils made against it, but also from the assaults it
has so frequently endured without evil.  If we
were called to decide the strength of some strong
fortress, we might decide that it was impregnable
by viewing its battlements or by considering the




DEATH OF -SHIMEI AND JOAB.        405
attacks it has already withstood. A fort that has
been attacked by every kind of fire and is still unconquered, may well command our confidence in
its strength. No volume in the world has ever
had the attention directed to it that has been bestowed upon the Bible. This statement is far too
tame.  When we consider that the chief literature
of the world is among Christian nations, and that
books upon religious questions are so abundant and
so widely circulated, we may venture the assertion
that more than half of the books of the world have
sprung forth directly from the Bible, and that this
sacred volume has been the subject of more criticism
than all the other volumes in the world combined,.
It is almost proving its divine authority to establish
the simple fact that it has been deemed worthy of
so much reading and so much investigation.  Certainly no other volume making claim to inspiration could stand up for a single century against the
storm of attacks to which, if at all possible, it.would be subjected, or against the contempt which
feeble pretensions would excite. Yet here is a
volume written through the course of eighteen
centuries by fifty different writers of various intelligence, treating upon the most important of all
subjects, yet touching also upon every subject of
human thought.  Now it is undeniable concerning
this book that it has been closely scrutinized not
-only in its general character, but in every page and
in every phrase by the best-educated and keenest




406            LIFE OF DAVID.
intellects of the world; that every variety of motive that could qui(cken men's minds to vehement
action has urged them to its study; that every new
light of history and of philosophy and of science
has been used to. search the claims of a book that
has older history and older philosophy and older
science than any in the world. Now what has been
the result?  What is the state of things in the
world now?  There is a great deal of skepticism
and infidelity among men? And this Bible could
not be true if these evils did not exist and even
abound. It gives us such ideas of man's depravity
and opposition to God that we never expect the
clearest evidences to be adlmitted by the sons of
men in reference to a divine revelation. No good
man lives without his enemies, and the best of books
will never lack its cordial haters while time lasts.
But the result is, among the crowd of flippant
skeptics, very few first-rate minds have ever been
infidels. A  very intelligent gentleman —himself
very far from being a Christian, and better acquainted with the opponents of the Bible than with its
friends-once suddenly surprised me by asking if I
could give the names of any first-rate men who
were infidels. I named La Place, and neither he
nor I could go any farther with names that we
were willing to admit among the first class of gifted
and educated minds. This is a most remarkable
thing, when we reflect that prejudices and depravity
have so much to do in forming men's religious




DEATH OF SHIMEI AN'D JOAB.         407
opinions. Further, the result is very few serious
minds in the world are infidel.  Pride, vanity,
ignorance and love of sin often lead men to avow
infidelity who give little attention to it, and indeed
from various causes are incapable of profoundly investigating any subject; but serious and thoughtful
men, who really weigh the evidences and claims of
the sacred volume, are not so easily led to throw
away the only teaching which really points us forward to immortality, and gives us the needful preparations to secure its blessings. And the result
further is this undeniably: let the men who have
any just acquaintance with the Bible be separated
into two classes.  Range on the one side those
who are really acquainted with the volume, who
read it constantly, who know the contents of it,
who carefully compare it with the teachings of
nature and providence around them and within
them, and on the other side those who are careless
of the evidence in its favour and careless of its influence. Of these two classes, infidelity will be
found very rare in the first and abundant in the
second.'The chief opposers of the Bible know the
least about it. Separate again. Put the honest
men of the world, the sincere searchers after truth,
the diligent students of the earth, into one class,
an(l in another the reckless and dishonest, and it is
easy to decide where the lovers of the Bible will
be found. The result is, that men can oppose this
sacred volume without sustaining for themselves




408            LIFE OF DAVID.
any reputation for truth or morality, and the more
depraved men are, the more certainly may we expect them to oppose it, while we ever expect the
good men who know the Bible to love it more the
more they know of it. Naimbanna, an African
prince, gave as his simple reason for receiving the
Bible as the word of God that he saw good mlen
so regarding it and bad men disregarding it. A
shrewd native on the African coast used to offer
tracts to the traders he met.  If they received
them respectfiully, he knew he could trust them; if
they rudely rejected them, he found it necessary to
guard against their dishonesty.
But David further charged Solomon to remember the crimes of Joab, and to bring upon him the
punishment he so well deserved. We have before
seen that Joab escaped the punishment of his
crimes only because David had not the power to
execute the laws against one of so great influence.
It must be seen that there is room for suspecting
that David felt the influence here of his private resentment, for he had not received from Joab the
treatment due from a subject to his sovereign. Yet
it would be harsh to impute this as the controlling
motive, when we can see reasons of public importance demanding that the laws should be vindicated
against one who had violated them with impunity.
A mischievous influence must have been exerted
in the kingdom now for many years by the unpunished crimes of Joab. He had slain two public




DEATH OF SHIMEI AND JOAB.         409
men in a treacherous manner, and the result in
each case had been not punishment, but promotion.
We are willing to give due credit to Joab for all
his active and successful efforts to built up the
power of the kingdom. His energy and success
as a commander, his fidelity as a friend, his loyalty until the day of Adonijah's feast as a patriot,
are all commendable. And it was just because he
was the idol of his soldiers that thus long he had
braved the authority of the law. But, we say that
all these matters form no apology for the wickedness.of Joab, and were no reasons for allowing him
to be unpunished.  We say, rather, that more mischief is done to society, as well as greater injustice,
in fact, by allowing the escape of powerful, and-if
you so please to term them-respectable criminals,
-than by failing to punish those whose influence
would be less. It is a very common reproach of
the law-a reproach, as we suppose, urged in every
land and age, but more justly urged at some times
than at others-that criminals without money and
without friends are easily convicted, but that those
who are rich and of influence in society escape
even against the clearest proofs of guilt. Certainly,
the reproach should never be true. The law of
the land should know no man above its authority,
and no man beneath its protection. The poor and:the weak should be safe in all their rights and
privileges; the strong and the rich should be liable
to judgment for every wrong; and while no maln




:41 0          LIFE OF DAVID.
should be condemned for a crime without a fair and
impartial trial, the law should know no respect of
persons. The poor man must not so excite the
sympathy of a judge that he will acquit him for
his poverty's sake, nor the rich awaken his fears
or his cupidity or his prejudices for either too great
severity or too great leniency because of his cir-cumstances. The ancient heathen represented the
goddess Justice as holding aloft a pair of scales,
and as being blind to show her impartiality. It
is easy to see that more evil is done by acquitting
one rich and powerful offender than by the escape
of many minor ones. The crimes of Joab were
aggravated by his standing in society and by his
other services rendered.  The apologies which
sometimes belong to other crimes he could not
plead. The nation had a right to expect that a
man in his position should regard the laws, and his
impunity must have brought great reproach upon
the government that was confessedly too weak to
punish him. The maintenance of law  for the
punishment of uncommon offenders is of the utmost importance. A very important criminal case
occurred in England during the reign of GeorgeIII..A forgery was committed by a clergyman,
who had been one of the most popular preachers
of London and a chaplain to the king. Immense
exertions were made to secure a pardon, but the
king stood firm, and perhaps the law has never
been more fully vindicated than when Dr. Dodd




DEATH OF SHIMEI AND JOAB.         411
was executed at Tyburn for his crime. So, a few
years ago, a distinguished professor in one of our
highest institutions of learning was convicted of
murder, and it would lhave been a very great publie calamity if the governor of Massachusetts had
yielded to the petitions that were got up upon his
behalf, and had spared his life. Dr. Webster's
execution was due to the law, and was of more importance than the execution of a hundred whose
characters were less exalted and whose crimes were
less known.
It is a sufficient apology for Joab's escape hitherto that David had not the power to punish him, but
this only made it the more righteous that a stronger
government should deal with him. It belongs rather
to the reign of Solomon than to that of David to
speak of the execution of the sentence, yet the account would be unfinished if we did not go through
with all that is given us.
After Solomon was firmly settled upon the
throne, he began to execute the counsels of his
father.  The death of Adonijah and the fall of
Abiathar warned Joab that his time had come.
He fled to the tabernacle of the Lord and caught
hold on the horns of the altar. We have seen
already that Adonijah had once before sought refuge there. It has-been questioned whether the
altar of God was ever properly made a sanctuary
of refuge for the criminal. It seems plain that
Adonijah and Joab, with others mentioned in the




412             LIFE OF DAVID.
Scriptures, fled to the altar to find protection, and
the law of Moses intimates that it would be a protection in some cases. Ex. xxi. 14.  But it is
very certain that the altar of God under the Jewish
law was not a protection to any criminal so as to
defeat the righteous sentence of the law. The altar
of God was not a sanctuary, as that term has been
-used in later times. Among the ancient heathens
there were certain temples and altars consecrated to
the safety of those that fled there. So sacred were
they that a criminal was safe there, no matter what
were his crimes, nor how important that he
should be punished for them. This privilege of
sanctuary was retained in the Romish Church; and,until very lately, under papal rule, if a criminal
fled to the church, his crime was changed from a
-civil offence to an ecclesiastical one, and the Church,
and not the civil law, took cognizance of it. This
threw great power into the hands of the Church,
and criminals often escaped by the payment of sums
of money as the priests decided.  Under English
law, if a man committed any crime (treason and
sacrilege excepted) he might flee to any church or
churchyard, and within forty days confess his crime
in sackcloth before the coroner, and take an oath
to leave the realm. He saved his life if he went
with a cross in his hand to the port assigned to him
and embarked. The entire privilege was taken
away in the reign of James I.  It is easy to see
that the result could only be to encourage crime.




DEATH OF SHIMEI AND JOAB.         413
A criminal should have no protection from  law.
Let him have protection from  mob violence and
from hasty proceedings, but not protection against
the very claims of justice. The only thing at all
like this in Israel, which has been mistaken as
sinilar, is essentially different. The cities of refuge were established not to protect the guilty, but
to protect the innocent.  According to the Oriental
law, the man who sheds blood —no matter what his
motives or the manner of the deed-was liable to
be killed by the nearest kinsman of the deceased
whenever or wherever he could find him. But if a
man fled to a city of refuge, time was given for investigation and discrimination. If it was found
that the deed was an accidental, a justifiable homicide, he was safe there; if it was a crime, even the
city of refuge was no protection.
Joab seems certainly to have expected safety at
the altar.  But Solomon did not understand the
law of God as ever throwing the shield of impunity
over crime. The sins of this man were too many,
and his approach as a supplicant now to the place
of mercy was too late to allow that his appeal
should be successful.  The command, therefore,
was given to Benaiah not to tear him away, but to
execute him there, as if to show that the altar itself
had no protest to enter against his death.




CHAPTER XXII.
DA VID'S DYING WORDS TO SOL OIWON.:E were introduced a little while ago into the
chamber of mourning, where a pious father
grieved for the untimely death of an ungodly son.
Common as it is for the young to die before the ol(l,
it is not so -natural. The scene to which we now
pass is the natural result of the present state of
earthly things.  An oldl man lies upon the couch
of death; and we see here that no regard is paid
by death to station, or character, or usefulness.
Here is the deathbed of a king, but it?'differs not,
because of this, from the death of any other mortal.
We may approach it as we approach the couch of
feebleness inl our own abodes, with quiet seriousness, to receive profitable instructions.  It is a
solemn thing to'die; sometimes it is deeply painful.  Suffering makes it painful; delirium  and
insensibility, which shut us out from the last exchange of thoughts with beloved ones, make it
painful; indifference to religion makes it painful;
above all, the opposition of the soul to that God
before whom it must soon appear, makes death an
event inexpressively painful to every riglltly-think414




DYINiG WORDS TO SOLOMON.        415
ing mind. But solemn as death is, it has other aspects. God himself says, "Blessed are the dead;"
but the voice from heaven adds, " who (lie in the
Lord." And we use, it may be, the language of David himself when we say, " Precious in the sight of
the Lord is the death of his saints."  Friends may
stand by a dying bed with calm composure, with
entire resignation. Men may lie upon such a bed
and look forward to all to which it intrioduces
them  with more than calmness; they may arraiige thoughtfully all the worldly affairs they
leave behind; they may counsel the children from
whom they must be separated; they may speak of
the duties which appear now in a clearer view than
ever; and they may look forward to say of that
which lies before them, in the language of David,'As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy
likeness." Ps. xvii. 15.  Far above these calm
thoughts rise the raptures of the dying believer at
some favoured time when God allows the clear
light of the corming world to shine upon his soul.
It may not be denied that men may depart calmly
without the hopes of the gospel; but in fiull view
of all that belongs to the question of our immortal
life, the only desirable departure from earth is one
sustained by the principles and hopes of that sacred
volume in which alone is revealed the eternity
before us.
This great subject is common, but canl never be




416            LIFE OF DAVID.
uninteresting to a serious mind. Providence brings
it before us many times in the history of our lives;
its lessons are deeply impressed upon us as we part
from friends dearly beloved; and, if we are wise,
wTe will yet more frequently turn our solitary
tlcoughts to the same topic.  For the truth should
never be forgotten-we too are to die. The narrow
pathway trodden by so many we all must tread,
one by one, and a personal interest bids us mark
the closing scenes of life.
If it is not as a king but as a man-not as a
man but as a believer-that we take an interest in
David, now drawing near to death, there is also a
sacredness about the scene when we regard it as the
counsels of a dying father addressed to a beloved
son. This indeed is the special aspect which we
have here presented.  We have before considered
some of the matters of more public interest upon
which David addressed Solomon.  Here we have
just such charges as a father in any case should
wish to impart to a son, and( of course just such as
every son should desire to receive. Whatever differences exist among men, from position, education
or age, all alike possess a reasonable, moral and
immortal nature, and the substantial interests and
duties of all are alike. Especially let every young
person hear the counsels of aged piety to the
young, and while he ponders let him  resolve to
obey these important teachings.
First in this matter let us reflect upon the




DYING'  WORDS TO SOLOMON.        417
touching circumstances in which this advice was
given. A man of age and of piety speaks from
his dying bed his last counsels to youth and inexperience. By confession of all, the dying hour is
one peculiarly marked by truth. We do not understand by this that then men never deceive
themselves nor wilfully deceive others. We have
no question that men are deceived and are wilful
deceivers in every profession and condition of mortal life, the last solemn hour of earth not excepted.
But we mean that at that last solemn hour there
are special reasons why a man should feel and
speak in all sincerity; that the mask of hypocrisy
often falls before the eyes of men just before the
soul passes to stand before its God; and, that men
who are insincere at other times are shocked into
truthfulness by the solemn thought of an opening
eternity. But if there is any sense in which we
may truthfully say that the dying hour is one of
honesty, what a testimony is it to the value of
piety that all the testimony of the last hours of.
men have been in favour of it! Men have mourned
over many things when they came to die. To say
nothing of the execrations heaped on the infidel
and ungodly companions who have ruined the unhappy soul by their seductions; to say nothing of
the disappointments of thousands who have been
honourably occupied in the engagements that are
profitably, held  for this world; to enumerate
nothing of the variety of hopes and fears between
27




418            LIFE OF DAVID.
these wide extremes,-it is a great matter that we
are able to say of true piety that no man has ever
regretted that he had known too much of it when
he came to die. But when we have said this much,
when we have claimed that religion is our best
friend in life and our best support in death, we
have fallen greatly short of making a just impression on the subject. We may justly say that the
more a man has of piety the more reason has he
to rejoice in the final earthly hour. Piety and its
engagements only seem of greater interest the more
thoroughly a man is acquainted with them and the
longer he has practised them. Nor is this all. It
is well worthy of our consideration that no men
ever have as much deliberate thought upon the
subjects of duty, and especially of death and the
eternal world, as pious men have. It is a very rare
thing to see an ungodly man calmly look death in
the face, reflect seriously upon its approach, converse collectedly of what lies beyond it and counsel wisely the friends that remain behind, in view
both of earth's duties and of eternity's prospects.
In all the range of English literature I know no
more lamentable evidence of the weakness and
folly of irreligion and infidelity than the account
of David Hume's dying hours, as given in a letter
from one of his most intimate friends. Let any
one read that account and Dr. Mason's remarks
upon it, or let any one compare the last thoughts
and words of the ancient David, a believer, and of




DYING WORDS TO SOLOMON.           419
the modern David, a skeptic; let him  see the one
rejoicing in his God and the other whiling away
the declining hours of life with a game of cards
and with affected jesting upon the ancient heathen
mythology, and he can easily decide upon which
couch-that of the infidel or that of the believerhe would wish to stretch his dying limbs
But the circumstances of the scene before us are
further rendered impressive by the fact that here
are not only the counsels of aged piety to youth,
but the affectionate advice of a father to a son.
It is not needful here to urge that no relationship of life calls forth more of the warmest respect
and affection of the human heart than the parental
relation.  WVe can see that this is natural and reasonable, and the cases are rare where men justify
any departure from filial obedience. Among some
barbarous and degraded tribes, indeed, it is the
custom to put aged parents out of the way when
they become a burden to their children, but even
heathenism often teaches lessons far superior to
this.  With few exceptions, a father is a sacred
character in all the earth; we reverence and respect
him during all his life; we are deeply impressed
by his dying counsels, and we cherish his memory
after his departure.  It gives a sacred interest to
the words with which David now addresses Solomon when we judge of them in this light.  The
speaker and the hearer stand in this tender relation
to each other. The experience of the aged parent




420            LIFE OF DAVID.
now seeks to guide the young and tender heart of
his beloved son.
And let us not forget that the counsels of aged
piety from the father's lips are more deeply irnpressive because they are among his last utterances.
We are accustomed to treasure up the last words
we have heard from beloved lips.  Though the
words themselves may have been uttered when we
did not know they would be the last; though they
may be unimpressive and insignificant in themselves, compared with many that we have heard
from the same lips; though sometimes they are
words whose remembrance we would wish to banish
from our minds for ever, —there is something deeply
affecting in these last utterances, upon which we
dwell with interest frequently recurring. But especially when the last words of friends are deliberate
and important; when they teach us lessons that are
only more valuable the more we reflect upon them;
then such counsels sometimes have the effect to
influence the life ever after, and, indeed, their influence is transmitted to subsequent times. This
is emphatically the case in the present instance.
We may judge that Solomon was led by David's
words, if not to the choice of piety, yet to its more
diligent prosecution; and we now, at the distance
of nearly three thousand years, sit reverently to read
the dying counsels of the believing father.
Notice then, first, in these counsels, that David
urges Solomon to know the God of his fathers.




DYING WORDS TO SOLOMON.          421
We cannot, of course, say that any religious views
are binding on us peculiarly, simply because our
fathers have held them before us. That the Chinese have been idolaters for ages is no good reason
for a native of China in the present day to continue
those practices of heathenism which ages have rendered no more true than they were at first. If a
man's parents have been in any degree unmindful
of duty or ignorant of truth, he is not thereby justified in his disregard of the duty that belongs to
him. No man of us refuses to avail himself of the
growing improvements of science because his fathers
never rode on a railway or saw a steam-engine.
Errors do not become venerable by age, but as soon
as discovered we should discard them, and nowhere
sooner than in matters so important as religion.
Where God's favour and our salvation are involved,
we cannot be too desirous of knowing and following the truth. - But though it is true that error does
not become more venerable through age, it is equally
correct to say that truth does become more venerable by its years.  Principles which our fathers
have tried, and which never have failed them in the
severest straits, we too may rely upon. The history
of piety becomes almost a part of piety itself.
When David urged his son to know the God of
his fathers, he directed his youthful eye backward
down the pathway of the history of the Church,
and filled his soul with stirring recollections of the
great things which Jehovah had done for Israel.




422            LIFE OF DAVID.
The expression, "the God of thy fathers," might
carry back the thoughts of Solomon to the darkness and idolatry that covered the earth when this
God called forth Abraham from Ur of the Chaldees and established in his household the altar of
his worship and the home of piety.  Following
down the train of thought through nine eventful
centuries, it would place him by. the door of Abraham's tent, and bid him look up to the innumerable stars and hear the promise, "So shall thy seed
be."  It would place him on Moriah's top to see
the angel holding back a father's hand from the
sacrifice of Isaac; by the slumbering Jacob gazing
upon that wonderful scene when heavenly messengers were passing up and down between earth and
heaven; by the Red Sea when the delivered hosts
were passing through the divided waters beneath
the protection of the pillar of fire and cloud; and
under the summit of quaking Sinai when God
spake to his people his holy law and gave them his
commandments for their guidance. We need not
fill up further the stirring thoughts, of which these
are a few, that hung upon the expressive words of
David, "The God of thy fathers."  Everything of
interest and of value that belonged to Jewish history was from  his hand.  And we too should
rejoice to think of the God of our fathers; and
this all the more because we are not of the stock
of Israel; because our fathers, less than nine centuries back, were as idolatrous as now is the hea



DYINiG WORDS TO SOLOMON.        423
then world; and because from the darkness of corrupted religion God brought our fathers forth, and
through their efforts and sacrifices and toils and
martyrdoms has handed down to us the precious
legacy of our faith. It is right for us to awaken
our hearts by recollecting our fathers. Their successes and their defeats, their preaching and their
suffering, equally endear them to us; and when we
trace the wonderful dealings of the providence of
God with respect to them; when we see how he
led them through the wilderness; when we understand for how much of our present advantages we
are indebted to what they did in his service and
what he did for them, we are led to glory in the
Lord God of our fathers, and to say, with all our
hearts, This God shall be our God for ever and ever.
He will be our guide even unto death.
Secondly. David urges Solomon to know  the
Lord his God. We will not now stay to show that;
the knowledge of God is the foundation of piety.
Ignorance is the mother of superstition, but the
devotion that is due to God from every humble
heart will be increased by his knowledge of him.
But it is doubtless the true meaning of David in
this instance not to urge his son to study the character and ways of God so much as that he should
love God. The word know in the Scriptures is often
used with this meaning. When we are told, " The
Lord knoweth the righteous," it means more than
his acquaintance with the righteous and their- ways.




424            LIFE OF DAVID.
In this sense God knows both the righteous andO
the wicked, but the meaning is, the Lord loveth the
righteous. David uses the word in this sense, and
calls upon Solomon to love the Lord God of his
fathers. Already had he been trained somewhat
ill this way, to know God, but the essential demand
is that he must yield his affections to him. Without the love of the heart, all mere knowledge of
God but aggravates our sin; and if the heart is
right it is easy to go on and secure an increasing
knowledge of him. This love will lead to the
service of God which David now inculcates upon
Solomon.
Thirdly. We may-notice the simplicity and sincerity which David commands.
He urges him to serve God with a perfect heart
and with a willing mind. A wide and palpable
distinction may justly be made between perfection
of design and desire in what we do for God and
perfection of accomplishment. The pious men of
all ages have mourned over their shortcomings,
have lamented that in many things they have
offended, and have sought the divine pardon for
the defilement of their holiest things. Yet they
have not been hypocritical, but sincere. There is
a sense in which the righteous have been both perfect and imperfect before God. They are imperfect
and ever-will be during this life. But they do not
harbour willingly any evil thing. They are perfect in this respect-that they sincerely desire to




DYING WORDS TO SOLOMON.         425
know and love and obey God. Nothing short of
this can God accept. The truly pious man often
fears that he is harbouring sin; he fears he does
not know himself, but he desires to be freed from
every iniquity and his prayer is, Search me, O
God. And David suggests here a thought which
no worshipper of God should ever forget, and
which should teach us the utter folly of all insincerity before such a God. We may sometimes
seem to gain something in our dealings with men
if we withhold sometlling fron them and attempt
to impose upon them, for they may believe our
falsehood, and we may get credit for professions
that are not true. But this is not so in our dealings with the Most High. "The Lord searcheth
all hearts, and understandeth all imaginations of
the thoughts." No man should attempt to serve
God at all that serves him not in entire sincerity.
No professions that answer not to the real state of
the heart can in any wise deceive him. If there
is scarcely any more impressive thought than God's
infinite knowledge of all we are and of all we do,
yet it is a great comfort to every mind really sincere, The Lord knows.
Fourthly. David encouraged Solomon to this
cheerful service of God: "If thou seek him  he
will be found of thee."
The gracious willingness of God to hear and
answer when we call upon him is much insisted
upon in the Scriptures. Nor does his willingness




426            LIFE OF DAVID.
to hear at all conflict with the sovereignty of his
grace toward many who wander far in sin. That
Saul of Tarsus was arrested by divine grace when
he thought not of it, is no reason why he should
not thoughtfully reflect and  humbly pray for
divine acceptance, but the rather one.of the strongest reasons why every guilty sinner should. The
striking words of a judicious commentator — " God
is sometimes found of them  that seek him not, but
he is always found of them  that seek him"-are
scarcely strong enough to express the force of the
truth in the case.  If God is sometimes found of
those that seek not for him, mutch more may we expeet that he will be found of them that seek him.
And this much more rests not only upon his own
character, not only upon the full and rich promises
by which he is pledged to give when we ask,
but also  upon  the  truths that our prayers,
prompted by the secret influence of his grace,
are not inconsistent with his sovereignty, but
may display it as truly, if not as remarkably,
as the case of Saul; and that Saul himself and
every other trophy of grace are led  by that
grace to seek God.  David utters in the ears
of Solomon a truth which any sinful soul may
hear: If thou seek him  he will be found of thee.
Especially let every young person listen. There
are special considerations addressing these gracious
words to youthful ears. To such they were at first
directed, and the teachings of providence, of-Scrip



DYING WORDS TO SOLOMON.           427
ture and of grace are all alike. They that seek nme
early shall find me, is their united teaching.
It is, however, a matter of no inferior moment
that we should consider how we are to' seek God
that we may find him. TWe are to seek HIM, and
seek him as he has directed, if we would expect to
find. If any man approaches the presence.of an
earthly king to ask his favour, yet with a studied
or a -negligent disregard of the rules of the court,
lie need not wonder to find his access denied and
his suit rejected.  When God calls us to seek him,
he calls us to ponder those teachings of his holy
word which tell us how he is to be sought and how
we may expect to secure his blessing.  We must
come to God; we must plead for those blessings
which he authorizes us to expect; we must put
away from us those things that are grievous in his
sight; we must ask in the name of Jesus Christ;
and we are to wait patiently for him if for any
reason he seems to delay in granting our petitions.
We often mar an acceptance by indulging sin, unbelief, impatience. We should never forget that
the true cause of our failure to secure the divine
acceptance lies in ourselves. The plain promise is,
" Seek and ye shall find."  But we are so prone to
act upon mere impulse and at the mere prompting
of our fears, rather than according to the principles
we should feel, that the prophet Jeremiah changes'the form of this promise: " Ye shall seek for me,
and find me when ye shall search for me with all




428             LIFE OF DAVID.
your heart." Jer. xxix. 13. And so it is said of
Judah: " They had sworn with all their heart, and
sought him  with their whole desire, and he was
found of them." 2 Chron. xv. 15.
Fifthly. David solemnly warns his son against
departing from God: "If thou forsake him, he
will cast thee off for ever."
It seems a wonderful thing that men do not more
fully recognize that all the gain of piety belongs to
us, and that our departure from God is but mischievous to ourselves.  Each of us may say, " My
goodness extendeth not to thee."  We can do ourselves infinite larm, but no harmn to the immutable
majesty of God, by our folly and sin. "Look unto
the heavens and see, and behold the clouds which
are higher than thou.  If thou sinnest, what doest
thou against him?" See the whole passage, Job
xxxv. 5-8.  We cannot afford to depart from God.
Should we forsake him, his throne would remain
yet firm for ever, his character spotless, his happiness infinite; but should he cast us off for ever,
what immeasurable woe belongs to such a thought!
Let us fear to neglect God-much more to forsake or reject him.  Above all other sinners may
we fear, for God has granted us mercies so large
that to rebel against them is great provocation in
his sight. Those who rebel against mercies have
greater reason to apprehend his early displeasure,
and should especially fear to presume upon the forbearance of the Lord.




DYING WORDS TO SOLOMON.          429
These are some of the thoughts that arise in
view of David's dying charges to his son Solomon.
But it is the excellency of such teachings that the
more carefully they are pondered the richer they
prove to be, and that each mind may see new beauties as it carefully dwells upon the thoughts. It is
interesting to associate such teachings with the last
words of an eminent believer, but it is profitable
to remember that the real value of these counsels
lies not in the circumstances, belongs not to the
age in which David and Solomon lived, and is not
confined to the experience of the youthful king.
We may receive all the profit from it as well as lie.
And these inquiries may arise in view of these
words to Solomon.
1st. Do those of us that are parents feel the same
solicitude for the piety of our children that David
here exhibits? It may be true that the dying bed
shows out more plainly these affectionate desires.
We have too much reason to fear that David was
not as careful in the training of his household as
he should have been.  It is sad to reflect that
though he says, The Lord hath given me many sons,
we read much of the wickedness of his children,
but are not told of the piety of any except Solomon. It may be that his (lying advice is the more
earnest because during his life he had too much
neglected a pious father's duty. But how poor a
compensation fdr long-neglected duties to a large
family would a charge like this be as given to a




430            LIFE OF DAVID.
single son! Let it be our wisdom to reflect upon
the constant importance of holy principles, righteous examples, pious affections and earnest exhortations as given to our families during our lives
and sealed by our latest teachings when we come
to die. We cannot too deeply study our duties
toward our families, nor be too much impressed
with the value of our present opportunities for
training them to love and serve the God of their
fathers.
2(1. Do we personally adopt the principles here
urged upon the youthful Solomon.? This is an
inquiry irrespective of age or position. Let the
aged ask; let the middle-aged reflect; let the
young consider these things.  No man can give
too careful or too early attention to them.  He
who neglects them while in life and health shows
thereby how little his heart is really interested in
them, and the longer this neglect continues the
more he puts in peril, all that is valuable for this
life and the life to conre.  Men too seldom understand that religion is our most valuable possession
for this life; they too seldom  realize that every
year lost in the neglect of piety is an important
loss of happiness and of usefulness, even if it
should not result in the final loss of the soul. But
the unhappy truth is, much as men hear about
their duty, they will not seriously consider —they
will not humbly pray.
Finally we have the record that David, the son




DYING WORDS TO SOLOMON.          431
of Jesse, "died in a good old age, full of days,
riches and honour."
So pass away the generations of men. Seventy
years seem a long time for any man to live. A
much shorter time than this is amply sufficient to
give every opportunity for life's most valuable purposes. The chief usefulness of most good men, and
the chief end of most wicked men, are over before
they reach so mature an age of life,'and the character
of each man for his everlasting life is usually fixed
at an early period. But long as the period seems
of seventy years, it is but a moment in the lifetime
of the soul, and no words can express the folly of
the man who has spent his early years without
preparation for the eternity beyond. If we had no
record for David except of his years, his riches and
his honours, what are all these worth when life itself
is gone?  "Call no man happy until the day of
his death," said one of the most profound sages of
ancient heathenism. Man here is subject to so
many changes-this year rich and the next poor;
now honoured and now despised; now happy and
now wretched; now innocent and now ensnared by'
temptation; now surrounded by friends and now
bereaved-that we may call no man happy till we
know how he has passed through the various trials
of a changing world. "The day of' death," says
the inspired wise man, "is better than the day of
birth." Eccles. vii. 1. And yet the apothegm of the
heathen sage looks not far enough for those that




432            LIFE OF DAVID.
are well read in the volume of divine revelation.
" Call no man happy except in view of that eternal
state which succeeds the day of death," would
rather be the serious thought that should fill our
ninds. What are the years or riclhes or honours of
any man if his soul is unreconciled to God, and
his life on earth has not been in the service of his
Makler?




CHAPTER XXI II.
CHARACTIERISTICS OF DAVID.
W E] propose in this closing chapter to take a
general review not of the incidents in the
history, but of the clharacter of David as we may
view this in four particulars:
1. David as a man.
2. David in his public relations.
3. David as a type of Christ.
4. David an instructive exemplar in religious
experience.
In the first place, David deserves a high place
when we consider him as a man.
We have no reason to suppose that his early advantages were anything in advance of' other Jewish
chlildren.  We find him at first the least esteemed
in his father's family, and his place is that of a
humble keeper of the sheep. These things, perhaps, merely betoken his youthfulness when his
name first occurs on the sacred pages; but even his
youth would not have placed him  so much in the
background if his father had discerned in the
child any tokens of his future eminence.  But that
shllepherd-boy was a poet and a mlusicitan whose
28                                   433




434            LIFE OF DAVID.
fiame and influence were never to besurpassed, even
in more polished ages. David was unquestionably
a man of taste and genius; and as he rose to power
and wealth, we have rarely found reason to question the wis(lom  of his counsels or the vigour
of their execution.  We have previously considered more fully his firm and faithful attachments
as a friend; we have seen reason to commend his
patience and forgiveness toward unprovoked injuries; his patriotism even against the ingratitude of
his king and people; and his persevering energy in
the most discouraging circumstances. Let us not
therefore magnify the faults which appear in this
great man, so as to lose sight of the sterling, excellent qualities which belonged to his character.
There is this thing that ought to be said concerning any. man's faults-that we ought rather to
judge of him by that which comes after his errors
than by the errors tLemselves. When we find a
man boldly denying or carefully covering up his
faults; when we find him vindicating as right injurious and wicked conduct; when no sign is given
but that he is of the same mind still as when he
committed his sin,-then we may judge of him according to the full wickedness of the offence. But
when, on the other hand, no man more openly and
directly condemns the transgression than does the
transgressor himself; when he humbly and penitently confesses and renounces his sins and bears
meekly the consequences that result from them;




CHARACTERISTICS OF DAVID.        435
when thus there is every reason to believe that he
entertains a far different mind from that which has
allowed him so to offend against God and man, —we
ought to form quite a different opinion of his entire
character. WVe do not still place such a man upon
the same level with one whose life has been unstained by crime. Yet there are some thoughts of
special interest gathering round the life of one restored front dangerous sins. There is joy in the
presence of the angels of God over one sinner that
repenteth, and this more than over ninety-and-nine
just persons that need no repentance. We cannot
omit the faults of David in a just view of his character- his own penitent confessions of thenm are as
severe a condemnation as any enemy can makeyet we may see and acknowledge that he had many
virtues. We rank among his accomplishments a
vigorous intellect, a cultivated taste, a ready discernment of times and measures, fearless bravery in
battle and a facility of adapting himself to his
various changes of fortune. We rank among his
virtues a high regard for truth and justice, yet
marred by gross instances of falsehood and injustice; a warm attachment, especially as exhibited in
his friendship for Jonathan.; an enduring faith,
tried by many changes at different periods of life;
an earnest zeal for the service of God, which was
specially shown'by his desire to establish and maintain public worship, and by the large and magnificent preparations he made for the building of the




436            LIFE OF DAVID.
temple; while the Psalms, of which we will speak
again, give evidence that the warmth of. devotional
feeling in David ranks among his great excellences.
The character of this man, as a whole, fillly justifies
the high esteem in which he has ever been held in
the Church.
II. We may next consider David in his public
relations.
1st. He was an able and victorious warrior.
As we first find him upon the sacred pages he
was a mere youth, yet lie is willing to go forth
against the giant of Gath. To form a just idea of
his military capacity, we need hut consider the state
of the kingdom at that time, and compare it with
its flourishing condition when Solomon ascended
the throne.  We have seen that the desire of the
people to have a king arose from their oppressed
and scattered condition by the power of the tribes
around them. But the reign of Saul was wellnigh a failure, and would have been so entirely
but for the sterling patriotism and the steady
valour of the very man whom he persecuted, oppressed and drove into exile. Even the successfull
battles he fought against the Philistines he knew
not how to use; the kingdom during his reign was
brought into straits as great as ever before; even
while David was in his army the enemy occupied
the very gates of Bethlehem, and the last effort of
the unhappy king was the desperate struggle on
Gilboa, that completed the ruin of the house of




CHARACTERISTICS OF DAVID.        437
Saul. But from the moment that David reigned
in Hebron his name was a tower of protection
for the tribes of Israel. We hear no more now of
the victories of the Philistines. The progress of
the kingdom was steadily onward and upward.
The lands that had been wrested from the feeble
tribes since the first conquest of the land by Joshua
were recovered, and the boundaries of the kingdom
made as wide as the promise given by God to
Abraham. The power of his arms had made his
throne respected by the nations all around him, and
few would care to provoke a king who had been a
warrior since his youth and had never lost a battle.
Whether we look at the energetic counsels, the
personal valour or the restless energy of David;
whether we consider his success in gathering about
him brave and able commanders, or in winning the
affection of his soldiers, or in impressing his enemies with terror of his name; whether we consider
the zealous patriotism  of every movement, the
evident aim to promote the well-being of Israel, or
the moderation that marked his triumphs in all
this great success, —we may declare that this king of
Israel was one of the best examples in the earth
of a man of war. Without ambition in the bad
sense of the word; seeking no conquests for conquests' sake; keeping himself within the boundaries which God had placed for his kingdom, or
passing beyond them only to cllhastise unprovoked
insolence; aiming in all things at the peace of his




438            LIFE OF DAVID.
people, and securing peace to their great benefit,David may not be ranked among the ambitious
conquerors of the earth, while he may be placed
high in the list of warriors. We would have no
wars if all men were like David, for he gave no
needless provocation to foreign power; but so long
as wars rise out of man's lusts-, the storms of
hurman passion need to be guided and controlled by
the wisdom and valour and patriotism of such
warriors as this king of Israel.
2d. David was a wise and righteous ruler. It
is not needful for us now to speak of the laws of
the kingdom, except to say that they were given to
Israel by divine wisdom; that even those parts
that seem peculiar and strange to us are to be understood in connection with the peculiar state and
circunlstances of the people; that in all respects
they were largely in advance of the nations around
them, and that modern nations of the highest civilization have paid this compliment to Jewish
jurisprudence, that the best principles of modern,governments find their original expression in the
laws of the first great Jewish lawgiver. Moses.
But in order to wise rule wd need far more than
righteous laws.  The same law stood upon the
statute-book of' the Jewish commnonwealth in the
days of the Judges, when every man did that
which was right in his own eyes; in the days of
Saul, when the monarch played the despot; and
even in the days of Ahab, when tile very laws




CHARACTERISTICS OF DAVID.        439
themselves were used to oppress the subject.
Righteous rulers are as important as righteous laws.
The reign of David had its exceptions, as when
the king was unable to punish the crimes of a
powerful criminal like Joab, or as when the monarch himself stooped so low to deeds of shame and
crime. Yet David was a righteous king. In the
one hundred and first Psalm we have the expression of his purposes as a righteous ruler, and the
principles of that Psalm may well be pondered by
every conscientious magistrate. The prosperity of
the kingdom in every respect, both internal and external, during the rule of David, except as disturbed
by the rebellion of Absalom, proves the wisdom of
his government; and it is deeply impressive to observe that we read of no internal troubles under
his government except those that sprang out of his
great sin and were subsequent to it. Yet in the
main, David was a wise and righteous ruler, and
in his reign the kingdom was firmly established.
Under him first they had a fixed seat of government; by his care the lawful arrangements for
public worship seem first to have been carried into
full effect; and even the splendour of Solomon's
reign owed its chief glory to the great preparation
which had been made for him by his father —a
preparation that had as much regard to the civilization and education and government of the tribes
as it had to the collecting of money and materials
for the building of the house of the LQrd,




440            LIFE OF DAVID.
3d. David is the chief devotional poet of the
Church of God.
No part of the worship of God is more delightful than singing his praise; and we may easily
believe that a service so natural and so excellent
has prevailed in the Church from the earliest ages.
The use of instrumental music seems ever to have
accompanied it. The harp and organ were invented before the Flood. When the Israelites
passed through the Red Sea the people sang the
praises of God; and in the organization afterward
for public worship express and full provision was
made for this part of the service. But David is the
chief Psalmist of the Church from his time onward.
Only one psalm of the entire Book of Psalms is
expressly referred to an earlier period, and nearly
one-half of the whole bear the name of David,
while-many others give internal proof that they
were composed by him. It is, then, within the
bounds of sober truth to say that no poet since the
world began has been the favourite of the people
compared with David.  The simple truth that
every Sabbath-day for centuries back, with a wider
spread in each succeeding generation, the Psalms
of the Hebrew poet have been the basis of praise
for thousands of worshipping congregations, and
that every day millions of voices use them in the
family for private singing, make it easy to say no
writer has ever exerted more influence than he.
His Psalms are the special delight of pious minds.




CHA RACTERISTICS OF DAVID.      441
"He who has once tasted their excellences will
desire to taste them again, and he who tastes them
oftenest will relish them best."
III. We may next consider David in a still more
public relation-not to his kingdom alone, but to
the Church of God;. not simply to the Old Testament times, but to us also. David was an eminent
type of Christ.
The promise of the coming of Christ had been
so renewed from age to age as to point out more
and more definitely in what line he should be born.
To Abraham, Jacob, Judah and David the promise
was successively made. With David particularly
God made a covenant by which he was constituted
the great type of the Messiah as a king and a
prophet.  This was recognized by the ancient
Church, so that there was no difficulty in deciding
where Christ should be born, whose son he should
be and whose throne he should occupy. But the
character and the throne of David  were but
faint emblems-of the greater person and kingdom
which they symbolized, as the shadow of anything
is greatly inferior to the thing itself. Upon the
ground of David's greatness our Lord argued when
he would convince the Jews of the superior character of the Messiah. David- himself called him
Lord, and he perplexed the short-sighted Pharisees
with the pertinent inquiry, How could he be both
Lord and Son?
David was a type of Christ as a king. There




442            LIFE OF DAVID.
were imperfections in the kingdom of David such
as may not be found in the kingdom  of the
Messiah; yet so much is the kingdom of Israel like
the kingdom of Christ that the promise runs, " He
shall sit upon the throne of David."  In the
eighty-ninth Psalm  especially, we have a prediction that in its highest meanings can apply only
to the great kingdom of Christ. As the kingdom
of David was established by the power of his arms,
so the Messiah was to go forth as a conquering
Prince. In the special promises made to David
by the prophet Nathan, when he announced to
him  that he should not be allowed to build the
temple, many interpreters suppose that express
reference is made to the Messiah and to his kingdom. So David acknowledges with thankfulness:
"'Thou hast spoken of thy servant's house for a
great while to come."  And the seventy-second
Psalm speaks of the reign of Solomon, but in language that belongs in its largest meaning to the
greater Son of David. Even the high-flown language of Persian flattery could scarcely speak of a
less kingdom than that of Christ as enduring for
ever and as extending from the Euphrates to the
ends of the earth.
David as a prophet sets forth in the Psalms
predictions of the coming Christ, and exemplifies
in his own person many of the sufferings of the
coming Redeemer. There seems this remarkable
thing in many of the predictions of the Scriptures,




CHARACTERISTICS OF DAVID.        443
that they so fall in with the designs of Providence
as to find their fulfillment at several times even
when chiefly referring to one great event. Thus
the outpouring of the Spirit spoken of by the
prophet Joel found its chief filulfilment upon the
day of Pentecost, but is repeatedly further fulfilled in the experience of the Church at various
times; the raging of the kings against Christ,
spoken of in the second Psalm, was fulfilled when
Herod and Pilate and the Jews put our Lord to
death, but it has again and again been fulfilled in
the persecutions the Church has subsequently met.
The promised gathering of the Jews from among
the nations, though once accomplished, shall be
yet more gloriously fulfilled. The prophecy of
our Lord respecting Jerusalem's destruction has
evident regard also to the judgment of the final
day. So in the Psalms we have many predictions
of Christ's sufferings under the figure of the sufferings of David. The most remarkable of David's
complaints which in the highest sense can apply
only to our Lord is Psalm xxii. It is harder to
understand how the words of this Psalm can apply
to David at all than to see how wonderfiully they
set forth the sorrows of Christ. So the sixtyninth Psalm sets forth his griefs as our Redeemer.
Other portions of the Psalms are quoted in the
New Testament as applicable to him. The malice
of the kings, the treachery of Judas, the matchless
grief of the sufferer, as well as the glory of the




444             LIFE OF DAVID.
Church, the exaltation of the Messiah and the
wide spread of his kingdom  to all the earth, are'given in various forms that can be fillly appreciated
only by the careful exposition of each Psalm  that
may be justly esteemed Messianic.
IV. We will consider David as an instructive
exemplar in religious experience.
In vain for us are all the lessons of the Scriptures, unless they are brought home to our personal experience.  It is easy for us to see that
in all the history of the human family there is
no man whose inmost thoughts are more fully
set before us than those of David. Of other believers we have records that others have written
of them-truthful indeed, but still not giving us
the workings of their hearts. Of David we can
compile a history from his own confessions at every
age of life. As a shepherd-boy we hear him  sing
in light-hearted piety as he watches his flocks by
night; as an exile, we hear him mourn his absence
from the altars of God; as a king, he resolves that
he would be a just ruler over men, ruling in the
fear of God; as a penitent for a great iniquity, he
teaches our burdened hearts how to pray for divine
renewal; and we listen to his tremulous voice in
declining years, pleading that when he is old and
gray-headed he may not be forsaken.  It ought to
be for serious profit that we have passed through
the history of such a man as this; and though
his spiritual history, as recorded in the Psalms,




CHARACTERISTICS OF DAVID.        445
has not received special attention, yet we have not
failed to point out many lessons of spiritual advantage. Let us now briefly notice such matters
as these:
1st. David teaches to love the worship of God.
We have no example of spiritual piety more fully
brought before us. He had his times of dejection
and discomfort and absence from the sanctuary;
and he shows us that he envied the very sparrows
that could build their nests within sight of the
altars of God, and longed to be a doorkeeper in the
tabernacle rather than an honoured guest in the
tents of sin. No man had ever shown in all the
Church greater zeal for public worship.  None
before him had ever spoken of building a temple
for the Lord; and. though the privilege was denied
him, he had all the credit of the desire, and his
magnificent preparations for its ftlture erection
show how sincere and earnest he was. Let every
believer imitate the zeal of David for the public
worship of God; let every one long for access to
the sanctuary as he did; let every one of us show
that he esteems a day in God's courts better than a
thousand in the tents of sin, —and the influence of
the sanctuary would be wonderfully increased.
And if David did so much to establish the worship of God, how ought we to maintain the ordinances we have already established among us!
2d. David teaches us the deceitfulness of sin. We
have freely spoken of his faults. We have specially




446            LIFE OF DAVID.
spoken of the great transgression that marked his
later life.  We should remember that he was overtaken by grievous sin at the very time we would
least expect it. He was a man of mature character,
he had received many favours from the hand of
God, he was full of honours and prosperity, when
he fell so low to sin. David should impress upon
us the lesson of a later prophet-" The heart is
deceitful above all things and desperately wicked."
No lesson of piety do wve need more fully to understand —no lesson are we more prone to forget than
this.
3d. But David teaches us the true nature and
exercise of piety.
Let ua: not figet that he teaches us how wide
olpen is thld.or of return for the penitent sinner.
Penitence -is not a reparation for guilt; and no true
penitent but mourns that he ever stooped to the
committing of iniquity.  In no sense does David
teach us to sin that grace may abound.  But we
may be thankful that as sinners wre are permitted
to use such a model of prayer as this penitent has
given us in the fifty-first Psalm. Let us learn from
it that the same language of grief and repentance
suits the lips of the backslider who has tasted the
Lord's grace and yet gone away from duty, and the
humble confession of' one who for the first time is
deeply impressed by a sense of his sins and prays
for God's mercy in his forgiveness.
It might easily be shown further how fully the




CHARACTERISTICS OF DAVID.         447
evangelical sentiments of David agree with the
great teachings of the gospel in the New Testament Church. Though he lived so long before the
clear light given by God to the Church after the
coming of his Son, the principles of piety as set
forth by him are the same as those proclaimed by
the prophets and apostles of our Lord. Sulfficient
proof of this is given in the use of his Psalms by
the pious men of all later times, and bly the fact
that the most eminent Christians have most relished their teachings. Here are lessons of hope
and of resignation in trial; of patience and forgiveness under injuries; of justifying faith that
relies only on the righteousness of God; of enduring faith that believes his promises in the dar1kest
hours; and of triumphant faith that delivers the
soul from  oppressing fears. Here is joy in God
greater than the world can give; here is love for
God that many waters Cannot, quenchl; and the
fruits of his piety are peace, truth, justice and
righteousness.
4th. But there is this FINAL THOUGHT of practical interest to which our minds may be turned in
the close of these chapters. We are again and
again assured in the Scriptures that God made a
covenant with David-an everlasting covenant, ordered and in all things sure. This covenant had
reference to public matters-to the establishment
of his kingdom and the coming of the Redeemer
through him. In regard to these things we will




448            LIFE OF DAVID.
now say nothing further.  This covenant had its
private aspects. It had regard to the salvation of
David personally.  Between him  and God there
was a covenant. A covenant differs from a law.
A law declares a man's duty, and obliges him to (lo
it, with or without his consent. A covenant is a
mutual contract made between parties, who by the
covenant imply their peaceful agreement.  Go(]d,
whose law manll has violated, condescends to enter
into covenant with man.  He covenanted with
David.  On the part of David was stipulated
love, faith, repentance, obedience to God; on the
part of God, forgiveness, grace, life eternal, and
such guidance and chastisements of providence as
seemed needful to infinite wisdom, with a distinct
pledge that David should never be forsaken. This
is the great matter of all we have considered that
should engage our thoughts. Every soul of us is
under the law of this God —as fully bound to obey
as we can be, and as transgressors subject to his
wrath. God graciously offers to change the form
of our allegiance —to bring us under a covenant
rather than under the law. This is a privilege of
unspeakable value.  He blessed David; he will
bless with the very best mercies he gave to him.
lie says by the prophet: "Ho every one, come.
Incline your ear and come unto me; hear, and
your soul shall live; and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of
David."