Title: The Expositor's Bible: The First Book of Samuel
Author: Blaikie, William Garden, 1820-1899
Language: English
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  [Transcriber's Note:

  _Italic_ words have been enclosed in underscores.

  As the oe ligature cannot be included in this format, it has been
  replaced with the separate letters in "coelo" and "Syrophoenician".

  A few minor typographical errors have been silently corrected.

  The Table of Contents refers to original page numbers.]



             THE EXPOSITOR'S BIBLE.

              EDITED BY THE REV.
           W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A.,
          _Editor of "The Expositor."_

           THE FIRST BOOK OF SAMUEL.

                       BY
           W. G. BLAIKIE, D.D., LL.D.

                     TORONTO:
    WILLARD TRACT DEPOSITORY AND BIBLE DEPÔT,
     CORNER OF YONGE AND TEMPERANCE STREETS.
                      1888.



                 THE FIRST BOOK
                       OF
                     SAMUEL.

              BY THE REV. PROFESSOR
           W. G. BLAIKIE, D.D., LL.D.,
             NEW COLLEGE, EDINBURGH.

                     TORONTO:
    WILLARD TRACT DEPOSITORY AND BIBLE DEPÔT,
     CORNER OF YONGE AND TEMPERANCE STREETS.
                      1888.



    CONTENTS.
                                                      PAGE
    CHAPTER I.
    HANNAH'S TRIAL AND TRUST                             1

    CHAPTER II.
    HANNAH'S FAITH REWARDED                             14

    CHAPTER III.
    HANNAH'S SONG OF THANKSGIVING                       25

    CHAPTER IV.
    ELI'S HOUSE                                         37

    CHAPTER V.
    SAMUEL'S VISION                                     49

    CHAPTER VI.
    THE ARK OF GOD TAKEN BY THE PHILISTINES             61

    CHAPTER VII.
    THE ARK AMONG THE PHILISTINES                       73

    CHAPTER VIII.
    REPENTANCE AND REVIVAL                              85

    CHAPTER IX.
    NATIONAL DELIVERANCE--THE PHILISTINES SUBDUED       97

    CHAPTER X.
    THE PEOPLE DEMAND A KING                           109

    CHAPTER XI.
    SAUL BROUGHT TO SAMUEL                             121

    CHAPTER XII.
    FIRST MEETING OF SAMUEL AND SAUL                   133

    CHAPTER XIII.
    SAUL ANOINTED BY SAMUEL                            145

    CHAPTER XIV.
    SAUL CHOSEN KING                                   157

    CHAPTER XV.
    THE RELIEF OF JABESH-GILEAD                        169

    CHAPTER XVI.
    SAMUEL'S VINDICATION OF HIMSELF                    181

    CHAPTER XVII.
    SAMUEL'S DEALINGS WITH THE PEOPLE                  193

    CHAPTER XVIII.
    SAUL AND SAMUEL AT GILGAL                          205

    CHAPTER XIX.
    JONATHAN'S EXPLOIT AT MICHMASH                     217

    CHAPTER XX.
    SAUL'S WILFULNESS                                  229

    CHAPTER XXI.
    THE FINAL REJECTION OF SAUL                        241

    CHAPTER XXII.
    DAVID ANOINTED BY SAMUEL                           253

    CHAPTER XXIII.
    DAVID'S EARLY LIFE                                 265

    CHAPTER XXIV.
    DAVID'S CONFLICT WITH GOLIATH                      278

    CHAPTER XXV.
    SAUL'S JEALOUSY--DAVID'S MARRIAGE                  292

    CHAPTER XXVI.
    SAUL'S FURTHER EFFORTS AGAINST DAVID               305

    CHAPTER XXVII.
    DAVID AND JONATHAN                                 317

    CHAPTER XXVIII.
    DAVID AT NOB AND AT GATH                           329

    CHAPTER XXIX.
    DAVID AT ADULLAM, MIZPEH, AND HARETH               341

    CHAPTER XXX.
    DAVID AT KEILAH, ZIPH, AND MAON                    354

    CHAPTER XXXI.
    DAVID TWICE SPARES THE LIFE OF SAUL                366

    CHAPTER XXXII.
    DAVID AND NABAL                                    378

    CHAPTER XXXIII.
    DAVID'S SECOND FLIGHT TO GATH                      391

    CHAPTER XXXIV.
    SAUL AT ENDOR                                      404

    CHAPTER XXXV.
    DAVID AT ZIKLAG                                    416

    CHAPTER XXXVI.
    THE DEATH OF SAUL                                  429



CHAPTER I.

_HANNAH'S TRIAL AND TRUST._

1 SAMUEL i 1-18.


The prophet Samuel, like the book which bears his name, comes in as a
connecting link between the Judges and the Kings of Israel. He belonged
to a transition period. It was appointed to him to pilot the nation
between two stages of its history: from a republic to a monarchy; from a
condition of somewhat casual and indefinite arrangements to one of more
systematic and orderly government. The great object of his life was to
secure that this change should be made in the way most beneficial for
the nation, and especially most beneficial for its spiritual interests.
Care must be taken that while becoming like the nations in having a
king, Israel shall not become like them in religion, but shall continue
to stand out in hearty and unswerving allegiance to the law and covenant
of their fathers' God.

Samuel was the last of the judges, and in a sense the first of the
prophets. The last of the judges, but not a military judge; not ruling
like Samson by physical strength, but by high spiritual qualities and
prayer; not so much wrestling against flesh and blood, as against
principalities and powers, and the rulers of the darkness of this world,
and spiritual wickedness in high places. In this respect his function
as judge blended with his work as prophet. Before him, the prophetic
office was but a casual illumination; under him it becomes a more steady
and systematic light. He was the first of a succession of prophets whom
God placed side by side with the kings and priests of Israel to supply
that fresh moral and spiritual force which the prevailing worldliness of
the one and formalism of the other rendered so necessary for the great
ends for which Israel was chosen. With some fine exceptions, the kings
and priests would have allowed the seed of Abraham to drift away from
the noble purpose for which God had called them; conformity to the world
in spirit if not in form was the prevailing tendency; the prophets were
raised up to hold the nation firmly to the covenant, to vindicate the
claims of its heavenly King, to thunder judgments against idolatry and
all rebellion, and pour words of comfort into the hearts of all who were
faithful to their God, and who looked for redemption in Israel. Of this
order of God's servants Samuel was the first. And called as he was to
this office at a transition period, the importance of it was all the
greater. It was a work for which no ordinary man was needed, and for
which no ordinary man was found.

Very often the finger of God is seen very clearly in connection with the
birth and early training of those who are to become His greatest agents.
The instances of Moses, Samson, and John the Baptist, to say nothing of
our blessed Lord, are familiar to us all. Very often the family from
which the great man is raised up is among the obscurest and least
distinguished of the country. The "certain man" who lived in some quiet
cottage at Ramathaim-Zophim would never probably have emerged from his
native obscurity but for God's purpose to make a chosen vessel of his
son. In the case of this family, and in the circumstances of Samuel's
birth, we see a remarkable overruling of human infirmity to the purposes
of the Divine will. If Peninnah had been kind to Hannah, Samuel might
never have been born. It was the unbearable harshness of Peninnah that
drove Hannah to the throne of grace, and brought to her wrestling faith
the blessing she so eagerly pled for. What must have seemed to Hannah at
the time a most painful dispensation became the occasion of a glorious
rejoicing. The very element that aggravated her trial was that which led
to her triumph. Like many another, Hannah found the beginning of her
life intensely painful, and as a godly woman she no doubt wondered why
God seemed to care for her so little. But at evening time there was
light; like Job, she saw "the end of the Lord;" the mystery cleared
away, and to her as to the patriarch it appeared very clearly that "the
Lord is very pitiful and of tender mercy."

The home in which Samuel is born has some points of quiet interest about
it; but these are marred by serious defects. It is a religious
household, at least in the sense that the outward duties of religion are
carefully attended to; but the moral tone is defective. First, there is
that radical blemish--want of unity. No doubt it was tacitly permitted
to a man in those days to have two wives. But where there were two wives
there were two centres of interest and feeling, and discord must ensue.

Elkanah does not seem to have felt that in having two wives he could do
justice to neither. And he had but little sympathy for the particular
disappointment of Hannah. He calculated that a woman's heart-hunger in
one direction ought to be satisfied by copious gifts in another. And as
to Peninnah, so little idea had she of the connection of true religion
and high moral tone, that the occasion of the most solemn religious
service of the nation was her time for pouring out her bitterest
passion. Hannah is the only one of the three of whom nothing but what is
favourable is recorded.

With regard to the origin of the family, it seems to have been of the
tribe of Levi. If so, Elkanah would occasionally have to serve the
sanctuary; but no mention is made of such service. For anything that
appears, Elkanah may have spent his life in the same occupations as the
great bulk of the people. The place of his residence was not many miles
from Shiloh, which was at that time the national sanctuary. But the
moral influence from that quarter was by no means beneficial; a decrepit
high priest, unable to restrain the profligacy of his sons, whose vile
character brought religion into contempt, and led men to associate gross
wickedness with Divine service,--of such a state of things the influence
seemed fitted rather to aggravate than to lessen the defects of
Elkanah's household.

Inside Elkanah's house we see two strange arrangements of Providence, of
a kind that often moves our astonishment elsewhere. First, we see a
woman eminently fitted to bring up children, but having none to bring
up. On the other hand, we see another woman, whose temper and ways are
fitted to ruin children, entrusted with the rearing of a family. In the
one case a God-fearing woman does not receive the gifts of Providence;
in the other case a woman of a selfish and cruel nature seems loaded
with His benefits. In looking round us, we often see a similar
arrangement of other gifts; we see riches, for example, in the very
worst of hands; while those who from their principles and character are
fitted to make the best use of them have often difficulty in securing
the bare necessaries of life. How is this? Does God really govern, or do
time and chance regulate all? If it were God's purpose to distribute His
gifts exactly as men are able to estimate and use them aright, we should
doubtless see a very different distribution; but God's aim in this world
is much more to try and to train than to reward and fulfil. All these
anomalies of Providence point to a future state. What God does we know
not now, but we shall know hereafter. The misuse of God's gifts brings
its punishment both here and in the life to come. To whom much is given,
of them much shall be required. For those who have shown the capacity to
use God's gifts aright, there will be splendid opportunities in another
life. To those who have received much, but abused much, there comes a
fearful reckoning, and a dismal experience of the "the unprofitable
servant's doom."

The trial which Hannah had to bear was peculiarly heavy, as is well
known, to a Hebrew woman. To have no child was not only a
disappointment, but seemed to mark one out as dishonoured by God,--as
unworthy of any part or lot in the means that were to bring about the
fulfilment of the promise, "In thee and in thy seed shall all the
families of the earth be blessed." In the case of Hannah, the trial was
aggravated by the very presence of Peninnah and her children in the same
household. Had she been alone, her mind might not have brooded over her
want, and she and her husband might have so ordered their life as almost
to forget the blank. But with Peninnah and her children constantly
before her eyes, such a course was impossible. She could never forget
the contrast between the two wives. Like an aching tooth or an aching
head, it bred a perpetual pain.

In many cases home affords a refuge from our trials, but in this case
home was the very scene of the trial. There is another refuge from
trial, which is very grateful to devout hearts--the house of God and the
exercises of public worship. A member of Hannah's race, who was
afterwards to pass through many a trial, was able even when far away, to
find great comfort in the very thought of the house of God, with its
songs of joy and praise, and its multitude of happy worshippers, and to
rally his desponding feelings into cheerfulness and hope. "Why art thou
cast down, O my soul, and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope in
God, for I shall yet praise Him for the health of His countenance." But
from Hannah this resource likewise was cut off. The days of high
festival were her days of bitter prostration.

It was the custom in religious households for the head of the house to
give presents at the public festivals. Elkanah, a kind-hearted but not
very discriminating man, kept up the custom, and as we suppose, to
compensate Hannah for the want of children, he gave her at these times a
worthy or double portion. But his kindness was inconsiderate. It only
raised the jealousy of Peninnah. For her and her children to get less
than the childless Hannah was intolerable. No sense of courtesy
restrained her from uttering her feeling. No sisterly compassion urged
her to spare the feelings of her rival. No regard for God or His worship
kept back the storm of bitterness. With the reckless impetuosity of a
bitter heart she took these opportunities to reproach Hannah with her
childless condition. She knew the tender spot of her heart, and, instead
of sparing it, she selected it as the very spot on which to plant her
blows. Her very object was to give Hannah pain, to give her the greatest
pain she could. And so the very place that should have been a rebuke to
every bitter feeling, the very time which was sacred to joyous
festivity, and the very sorrow that should have been kept furthest from
Hannah's thoughts, were selected by her bitter rival to poison all her
happiness, and overwhelm her with lamentation and woe.

After all, was Hannah or Peninnah the more wretched of the two? To
suffer in the tenderest part of one's nature is no doubt a heavy
affliction. But to have a heart eager to inflict such suffering on
another is far more awful. Young people that sting a comrade when out of
temper, that call him names, that reproach him with his infirmities, are
far more wretched and pitiable creatures than those whom they try to
irritate. It has always been regarded as a natural proof of the holiness
of God that He has made man so that there is a pleasure in the exercise
of his amiable feelings, while his evil passions, in the very play of
them, produce pain and misery. Lady Macbeth is miserable over the
murdered king, even while exulting in the triumph of her ambition. Torn
by her heartless and reckless passions, her bosom is like a hell. The
tumult in her raging soul is like the writhing of an evil spirit. Yes,
my friends, if you accept the offices of sin, if you make passion the
instrument of your purposes, if you make it your business to sting and
to stab those who in some way cross your path, you may succeed for the
moment, and you may experience whatever of satisfaction can be found in
gloated revenge. But know this, that you have been cherishing a viper
in your bosom that will not content itself with fulfilling your desire.
It will make itself a habitual resident in your heart, and distil its
poison over it. It will make it impossible for you to know anything of
the sweetness of love, the serenity of a well-ordered heart, the joy of
trust, the peace of heaven. You will be like the troubled sea, whose
waters cast up mire and dirt. You will find the truth of that solemn
word, "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked."

If the heart of Peninnah was actuated by this infernal desire to make
her neighbour fret, it need not surprise us that she chose the most
solemn season of religious worship to gratify her desire. What could
religion be to such a one but a form? What communion could she have, or
care to have, with God? How could she realize what she did in disturbing
the communion of another heart? If we could suppose her realizing the
presence of God, and holding soul-to-soul communion with Him, she would
have received such a withering rebuke to her bitter feelings as would
have filled her with shame and contrition. But when religious services
are a mere form, there is absolutely nothing in them to prevent, at such
times, the outbreak of the heart's worst passions. There are men and
women whose visits to the house of God are often the occasions of
rousing their worst, or at least very unworthy, passions. Pride, scorn,
malice, vanity--how often are they moved by the very sight of others in
the house of God! What strange and unworthy conceptions of Divine
service such persons must have! What a dishonouring idea of God, if they
imagine that the service of their bodies or of their lips is anything to
Him. Surely in the house of God, and in the presence of God, men ought
to feel that among the things most offensive in His eyes are a foul
heart, a fierce temper, and the spirit that hateth a brother. While, on
the other hand, if we would serve Him acceptably, we must lay aside all
malice and all guile and hypocrisies, envies and all evil speakings.
Instead of trying to make others fret, we should try, young and old
alike, to make the crooked places of men's hearts straight, and the
rough places of their lives plain; try to give the soft answer that
turneth away wrath; try to extinguish the flame of passion, to lessen
the sum-total of sin, and stimulate all that is lovely and of good
report in the world around us.

But to return to Hannah and her trial. Year by year it went on, and her
sensitive spirit, instead of feeling it less, seemed to feel it more. It
would appear that, on one occasion, her distress reached a climax. She
was so overcome that even the sacred feast remained by her untasted. Her
husband's attention was now thoroughly roused. "Hannah, why weepest
thou? and why eatest thou not? and why is thy heart grieved? am not I
better to thee than ten sons?" There was not much comfort in these
questions. He did not understand the poor woman's feeling. Possibly his
attempts to show her how little cause she had to complain only
aggravated her distress. Perhaps she thought, "When my very husband does
not understand me, it is time for me to cease from man." With the double
feeling--my distress is beyond endurance, and there is no sympathy for
me in any fellow-creature--the thought may have come into her mind, "I
will arise and go to my Father." However it came about, her trials had
the happy effect of sending her to God. Blessed fruit of affliction! Is
not this the reason why afflictions are often so severe? If they were of
ordinary intensity, then, in the world's phrase, we might "grin and bear
them." It is when they become intolerable that men think of God. As
Archbishop Leighton has said, God closes up the way to every broken
cistern, one after another, that He may induce you, baffled everywhere
else, to take the way to the fountain of living waters. "I looked on my
right hand and beheld, but there was no man that would know me; refuge
failed me, no man cared for my soul. I cried unto thee, O Lord; I said,
Thou art my refuge and my portion in the land of the living."

Behold Hannah, then, overwhelmed with distress, in "the temple of the
Lord" (as His house at Shiloh was called), transacting solemnly with
God. "She vowed a vow." She entered into a transaction with God, as
really and as directly as one man transacts with another. It is this
directness and distinctness of dealing with God that is so striking a
feature in the piety of those early times. She asked God for a man
child. But she did not ask this gift merely to gratify her personal
wish. In the very act of dealing with God she felt that it was His glory
and not her personal feelings that she was called chiefly to respect. No
doubt she wished the child, and she asked the child in fulfilment of her
own vehement desire. But beyond and above that desire there arose in her
soul the sense of God's claim and God's glory, and to these high
considerations she desired to subordinate every feeling of her own. If
God should give her the man child, he would not be hers, but God's. He
would be specially dedicated as a Nazarite to God's service. No razor
should come on his head; no drop of strong drink should pass his lips.
And this would not be a mere temporary dedication, it would last all
the days of his life. Eagerly though Hannah desired a son, she did not
wish him merely for personal gratification. She was not to make herself
the end of her child's existence, but would sacrifice even her
reasonable and natural claims upon him in order that he might be more
thoroughly the servant of God.

Hannah, as she continued praying, must have felt something of that peace
of soul which ever comes from conscious communion with a prayer-hearing
God. But probably her faith needed the element of strengthening which a
kindly and favourable word from one high in God's service would have
imparted. It must have been terrible for her to find, when the high
priest spoke to her, that it was to insult her, and accuse her of an
offence against decency itself from which her very soul would have
recoiled. Well meaning, but weak and blundering, Eli never made a more
outrageous mistake. With firmness and dignity, and yet in perfect
courtesy, Hannah repudiated the charge. Others might try to drown their
sorrows with strong drink, but she had poured out her soul before God.
The high priest must have felt ashamed of his rude and unworthy charge,
as well as rebuked by the dignity and self-possession of this much-tried
but upright, godly woman. He sent her away with a hearty benediction,
which seemed to convey to her an assurance that her prayer would be
fulfilled. As yet it is all a matter of faith; but her "faith is the
substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Her
burden is completely removed; her soul has returned to its quiet rest.
This chapter of the history has a happy ending--"The woman went her way
and did eat, and her countenance was no more sad."

Is not this whole history just like one of the Psalms, expressed not in
words but in deeds? First the wail of distress; then the wrestling of
the troubled heart with God; then the repose and triumph of faith. What
a blessing, amid the multitude of this world's sorrows; that such a
process should be practicable! What a blessed thing is faith, faith in
God's word, and faith in God's heart, that faith which becomes a bridge
to the distressed from the region of desolation and misery to the region
of peace and joy? Is there any fact more abundantly verified than this
experience is--this passage out of the depths, this way of shaking one's
self from the dust, and putting on the garments of praise? Are any of
you tired, worried, wearied in the battle of life, and yet ignorant of
this blessed process? Do any receive your fresh troubles with nothing
better than a growl of irritation--I will not say an angry curse? Alas
for your thorny experience! an experience which knows no way of blunting
the point of the thorns. Know, my friends, that in Gilead there is a
balm for soothing these bitter irritations. There is a peace of God that
passeth all understanding, and that keeps the hearts and minds of His
people through Christ Jesus. "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose
mind is stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee."

But let those who profess to be Christ's see that they are consistent
here. A fretful, complaining Christian is a contradiction in terms. How
unlike to Christ! How forgetful such a one is of the grand argument, "He
that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall
He not with Him also freely give us all things?" "Be patient, brethren,
for the coming of the Lord draweth near." Amid the agitations of life
often steal away to the green pastures and the still waters, and they
will calm your soul. And while "the trial of your faith is much more
precious than of gold that perisheth, although it be tried with fire,"
it shall be "found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of
Jesus Christ."



CHAPTER II.

_HANNAH'S FAITH REWARDED._

1 SAMUEL i. 19-28.


In all the transactions recorded in these verses, we see in Hannah the
directing and regulating power of the family; while Elkanah appears
acquiescing cordially in all that she proposes, and devoutly seconding
her great act of consecration,--the surrender of Samuel to the perpetual
service of God. For a moment it might be thought that Hannah assumed a
place that hardly belonged to her; that she became the leader and
director in the house, while her proper position was that of a helpmeet
to her husband. We are constrained, however, to dismiss this thought,
for it does not fit in to the character of Hannah, and it is not in
keeping with the general tone of the passage. There are two reasons that
account sufficiently for the part she took. In the first place, it was
she that had dealt with God in the matter, and it was with her too that
God had dealt. She had been God-directed in the earlier part of the
transaction, and therefore was specially able to see what was right and
proper to be done in following up God's remarkable acknowledgment and
answer of her prayer. The course to be taken came to her as an
intuition,--an intuition not to be reasoned about, not to be exposed to
the criticism of another, to be simply accepted and obeyed. As she gave
no heed to those impulses of her own heart that might have desired a
different destination for her child, so she was disposed to give none to
the impulses of any other. The name, and the training, and the life-work
of a child given so remarkably were all clear as sunbeams to her godly
heart; and in such a matter it would have been nothing but weakness to
confer with flesh and blood.

And in the second place, Elkanah could be in no humour to resist his
wife, even if he had had any reason to do so. For he was in a manner
reproved of God for not being more concerned about her sadness of
spirit. God had treated her sorrow more seriously than he had. God had
not said to her that her husband was better to her than ten sons. God
had recognised the hunger of her heart for a son as a legitimate
craving, and when she brought her wish to Him, and meekly and humbly
asked Him to fulfil it, He had heard her prayer, and granted her
request. In a sense Hannah, in the depth of her sorrow, had appealed
from her husband to a higher court, and the appeal had been decided in
her favour. Elkanah could not but feel that in faith, in lofty
principle, in nearness of fellowship with God, he had been surpassed by
his wife. It was no wonder he surrendered to her the future direction of
a life given thus in answer to her prayers. Yet in thus surrendering his
right he showed no sullenness of temper, but acted in harmony with her,
not only in naming and dedicating the child, but in taking a vow on
himself, and at the proper moment fulfilling that vow. The three
bullocks, with the ephah of flour and the bottle of wine brought to
Shiloh when the child was presented to the Lord, were probably the
fulfilment of Elkanah's vow.

But to come more particularly to what is recorded in the text.

1. We notice, first, the fact of the answer to prayer. The answer was
prompt, clear, explicit. It is an important question, Why are some
prayers answered and not others? Many a good man and woman feel it to be
the greatest trial that their prayers for definite objects are not
answered. Many a mother will say, Why did God not answer me when I
prayed Him to spare my infant's life? I am sure I prayed with my whole
heart and soul, but it seemed to make no difference, the child sank and
died just as if no one had been praying for him. Many a wife will say,
Why does God not convert my husband? I have agonized, I have wept and
made supplication on his behalf, and in particular, with reference to
his besetting infirmity, I have implored God to break his chain and set
him free; but there he is, the same as ever. Many a young person under
serious impressions will say, Why does God not hear my prayer? I have
prayed with heart and soul for faith and love, for peace in believing,
for consciousness of my interest in Christ; but my prayers seem directed
against a wall of brass, they seem never to reach the ears of the Lord
of hosts. In spite of all such objections and difficulties, we maintain
that God is the hearer of prayer. Every sincere prayer offered in the
name of Christ is heard, and dealt with by God in such way as seems good
to Him. There are good reasons why some prayers are not answered at all,
and there are also good reasons why the visible answer to some prayers
is delayed. Some prayers are not answered because the spirit of them is
bad. "Ye ask but receive not because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume
it upon your lusts." What is asked merely to gratify a selfish feeling
is asked amiss. It is not holy prayer; it does not fit in with the
sacred purposes of life; it is not asked to make us better, or enable us
to serve God better, or make our life more useful to our fellows; but
simply to increase our pleasure, to make our surroundings more
agreeable. Some prayers are not answered because what is asked would be
hurtful; the prayer is answered in spirit though denied in form. A
Christian lady, over the sick bed of an only son, once prayed with
intense fervour that he might be restored, and positively refused to
say, "Thy will be done." Falling asleep, she seemed to see a panorama of
her son's life had he survived; it was a succession of sorrows, rising
into terrible agonies,--so pitiful a sight that she could no longer
desire his life to be prolonged, and gave up the battle against the will
of God. Some prayers are not answered at the time, because a discipline
of patience is needed for those who offer them; they have to be taught
the grace of waiting patiently for the Lord; they have to learn more
fully than hitherto to walk by faith, not by sight; they have to learn
to take the promise of God against all appearances, and to remember that
heaven and earth shall pass away, but God's word shall not pass away.

But whatever be the reasons for the apparent silence of God, we may rest
assured that hearing prayer is the law of His kingdom. Old Testament and
New alike bear witness to this. Every verse of the Psalms proclaims it.
Alike by precept and example our Lord constantly enforced it. Every
Apostle takes up the theme, and urges the duty and the privilege. We may
say of prayer as St. Paul said of the resurrection--if prayer be not
heard our preaching is vain, and your faith is vain. And what true
Christian is there who cannot add testimonies from his own history to
the same effect? If the answer to some of your prayers be delayed, has
it not come to many of them? Come, too, very conspicuously, so that you
were amazed, and almost awed? And if there be prayers that have not yet
been answered, or in reference to which you have no knowledge of an
answer, can you not afford to wait till God gives the explanation? And
when the explanation comes, have you not much cause to believe that it
will redound to the praise of God, and that many things, in reference to
which you could at the time see nothing but what was dark and terrible,
may turn out when fully explained to furnish new and overwhelming
testimony that "God is love?"

2. The next point is the name given by Hannah to her son. The name
Samuel, in its literal import, does not mean "asked of the Lord," but
"heard of the Lord." The reason assigned by Hannah for giving this name
to her son is not an explanation of the word, but a reference to the
circumstances. In point of fact, "heard of the Lord" is more expressive
than even "asked of the Lord," because it was God's hearing (in a
favourable sense), more than Hannah's asking, that was the decisive
point in the transaction. Still, as far as Hannah was concerned, he was
asked of the Lord. The name was designed to be a perpetual memorial of
the circumstances of his birth. For the good of the child himself, and
for the instruction of all that might come in contact with him, it was
designed to perpetuate the fact that before his birth a solemn
transaction in prayer took place between his mother and the Almighty.
The very existence of this child was a perpetual witness, first of all
of the truth that God exists, and then of the truth that He is a
prayer-hearing God. The very name of this child is a rebuke to those
parents who never think of God in connection with their children, who
never thank God for giving them, nor think of what He would like in
their education and training. Even where no such special transaction by
prayer has taken place as in the case of Samuel's mother, children are
to be regarded as sacred gifts of God. "Lo, children are the heritage of
the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is His reward." Many a child has had
the name Samuel given him since these distant days in Judæa under the
influence of this feeling. Many a parent has felt what a solemn thing it
is to receive from God's hands an immortal creature, that may become
either an angel or a devil, and to be entrusted with the first stage of
a life that may spread desolation and misery on the one hand, or joy and
blessing wherever its influence reaches. Do not treat lightly, O
parents, the connection between God and your children! Cherish the
thought that they are God's gifts, God's heritage to you, committed by
Him to you to bring up, but not apart from Him, not in separation from
those holy influences which He alone can impart, and which He is willing
to impart. What a cruel thing it is to cut this early connection between
them and God, and send them drifting through the world like a ship with
a forsaken rudder, that flaps hither and thither with every current of
the sea! What a blessed thing when, above all things, the grace and
blessing of God are sought by parents for their children, when all the
earnest lessons of childhood are directed to this end, and before
childhood has passed into youth the grace of God rules the young heart,
and the holy purpose is formed to live in His fear through Jesus Christ,
and to honour Him for evermore!

3. Hannah's arrangements for the child. From the very first she had
decided that at the earliest possible period he should be placed under
the high priest at Shiloh. Hannah's fulfilment of her vow was to be an
ample, prompt, honourable fulfilment. Many a one who makes vows or
resolutions under the pressure and pinch of distress immediately begins
to pare them down when the pinch is removed, like the merchant in the
storm who vowed a hecatomb to Jupiter, then reduced the hecatomb to a
single bullock, the bullock to a sheep, the sheep to a few dates; but
even these he ate on the way to the altar, laying on it only the stones.
Not one jot would Hannah abate of the full sweep and compass of her vow.
She would keep the child by her only till he was weaned, and then he
should be presented at Shiloh. It is said that Jewish mothers sometimes
suckled their children to the age of three years, and this was probably
little Samuel's age when he was taken to Shiloh. Meanwhile, she resolved
that till that time was reached she would not go up to the feast. Had
she gone before her son was weaned she must have taken him with her, and
brought him away with her, and that would have broken the solemnity of
the transaction when at last she should take him for good and all. No.
The very first visit that she and her son should pay to Shiloh would be
the decisive visit. The very first time that she should present herself
at that holy place where God had heard her prayer and her vow would be
the time when she should fulfil her vow. The first time that she should
remind the high priest of their old interview would be when she came to
offer to God's perpetual service the answer to her prayer and the fruit
of her vow. To miss the feast would be a privation, it might even be a
spiritual loss, but she had in her son that which itself was a means of
grace to her, and a blessed link to God and heaven; while she remained
with him God would still remain with her; and in prayer for him, and the
people whom he might one day influence, her heart might be as much
enlarged and warmed as if she were mingling with the thousands of
Israel, amid the holy excitement of the great national feast.

4. Elkanah's offering at Shiloh. When Elkanah heard his wife's plan with
reference to Samuel, he simply acquiesced, bade her remain at Shiloh,
"only the Lord establish His word." What word? Literally, the Lord had
spoken no word about Samuel, unless the word of Eli to Hannah "The God
of Israel grant thee thy petition that thou hast asked of Him" could be
regarded as a word from God. That word, however, had already been
fulfilled; and Elkanah's prayer meant, The Lord bring to pass those
further blessings of which the birth of Samuel was the promise and the
prelude; the Lord accept, in due time, the offering of this child to His
service, and grant that out of that offering there may come to Israel
all the good that it is capable of yielding.

The cordiality with which Elkanah accepted his wife's view of the case
is seen further in the ample offering which he took to Shiloh--three
bullocks, an ephah of flour, and a bottle of wine. One bullock would
have sufficed as a burnt-offering for the child now given for the
service of God, and in ver. 25 special mention is made of one being
slain. The other two were added to mark the speciality of the occasion,
to make the offering, so to speak, round and complete, to testify the
ungrudging cordiality with which the whole transaction was entered into.
One might perhaps have thought that in connection with such a service
there was hardly any need of a bloody sacrifice, A little child of two
or three years old--the very type and picture of innocence--surely
needed little in the way of expiation. Not so, however, the view of the
law of Moses. Even a newborn infant could not be presented to the Lord
without some symbol of expiation. There is such a virus of corruption in
every human soul that not even infants can be brought to God for
acceptance and blessing without a token of atonement. Sin has so
separated the whole race from God, that not one member of it can be
brought near, can be brought into the region of benediction, without
shedding of blood. And if no member of it can be even accepted without
atonement, much less can any be taken to be God's servant, taken to
stand before Him, to represent Him, to be His organ to others, to speak
in His name. What a solemn truth for all who desire to be employed in
the public service of Jesus Christ! Remember how unworthy you are to
stand before him. Remember how stained your garments are with sin and
worldliness, how distracted your heart is with other thoughts and
feelings, how poor the service is you are capable of rendering. Remember
how gloriously Jesus is served by the angels that excel in strength,
that do His commandments, hearkening to the voice of His word. And when
you give yourselves to Him, or ask to be allowed to take your place
among His servants, seek as you do so to be sprinkled with the blood of
cleansing, own your personal unworthiness, and pray to be accepted
through the merit of His sacrifice!

5. And now, the bullock being slain, they bring the child to Eli. Hannah
is the speaker, and her words are few and well chosen. She reminds Eli
of what she had done the last time she was there. Generous and
courteous, she makes no allusion to anything unpleasant that had passed
between them. Small matters of that sort are absorbed in the solemnity
and importance of the transaction. In her words to Eli she touches
briefly on the past, the present, and the future. What occurred in the
past was, that she stood there a few years ago praying unto the Lord.
What was true of the present was, that the Lord had granted her
petition, and given her this child for whom she had prayed. And what was
going to happen in the future was (as the Revised Version has it), "I
have granted him to the Lord; as long as he liveth he is granted to the
Lord."

It is interesting to remark that no word of Eli's is introduced. This
Nazarite child is accepted for the perpetual service of God at once and
without remark. No remonstrance is made on the score of his tender
years. No doubt is insinuated as to how he may turn out. If Samuel's
family was a Levitical one, he would have been entitled to take part in
the service of God, but only occasionally, and at the Levitical age. But
his mother brings him to the Lord long before the Levitical age, and
leaves him at Shiloh, bound over to a lifelong service. How was she able
to do it? For three years that child had been her constant companion,
had lain in her bosom, had warmed her heart with his smiles, had amused
her with his prattle, had charmed her with all his engaging little ways.
How was she able to part with him? Would he not miss her too as much as
she would miss him? Shiloh was not a very attractive place, Eli was old
and feeble, Hophni and Phinehas were beasts, the atmosphere was
offensive and pernicious. Nevertheless, it was God's house, and if a
little child should be brought to it, capable of rendering to God real
service, God would take care of the child. Already he was God's child.
Asked of God, and heard of God, he bore already the mark of his Master.
God would be with him, as He had been with Joseph, as He had been with
Moses--"He shall call on Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him
in trouble, I will be with him and honour him."

Noble in her spirit of endurance in the time of trial, Hannah is still
more noble in the spirit of self-denial in the time of prosperity. It
was no common grace that could so completely sacrifice all her personal
feelings, and so thoroughly honour God. What a rebuke to those parents
that keep back their children from God's service, that will not part
with their sons to be missionaries, that look on the ministry of the
Gospel as but a poor occupation! What a rebuke, too, to many Christian
men and women who are so unwilling to commit themselves openly to any
form of Christian service,--unwilling to be identified with religious
work! Yet, on the other hand, let us rejoice that in this our age, more
perhaps than in any other, so many are willing, nay eager, for Christian
service. Let us rejoice that both among young men and young women
recruits for the mission-field are offering themselves in such numbers.
After all, it is true wisdom, and true policy, although not done as a
matter of policy. It will yield far the greatest satisfaction in the
end. God is not unrighteous to forget the work and labour of love of His
children. And "every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or
sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands for My
name's sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting
life."



CHAPTER III.

_HANNAH'S SONG OF THANKSGIVING._

1 SAMUEL ii. 1-10.


The emotion that filled Hannah's breast after she had granted Samuel to
the Lord, and left him settled at Shiloh, was one of triumphant joy. In
her song we see no trace of depression, like that of a bereaved and
desolate mother. Some may be disposed to think less of Hannah on this
account; they may think she would have been more of a true mother if
something of human regret had been apparent in her song. But surely we
ought not to blame her if the Divine emotion that so completely filled
her soul excluded for the time every ordinary feeling. In the very first
words of her song we see how closely God was connected with the emotions
that swelled in her breast. "My heart rejoiceth _in the Lord_, mine horn
is exalted _in the Lord_." The feeling that was so rapturous was the
sense of God's gracious owning of her; His taking her into partnership,
so to speak, with Himself; His accepting of her son as an instrument for
carrying out His gracious purposes to Israel and the world. Only those
who have experienced it can understand the overwhelming blessedness of
this feeling. That the infinite God should draw near to His sinful
creature, and not only accept him, but identify Himself with him, as it
were, taking him and those dearest to him into His confidence, and using
them to carry out His plans, is something almost too wonderful for the
human spirit to bear. This was Hannah's feeling, as it afterwards was
that of Elizabeth, and still more of the Virgin Mary, and it is no
wonder that their songs, which bear a close resemblance to each other,
should have been used by the Christian Church to express the very
highest degree of thankfulness.

The emotion of Hannah was intensified by another consideration. What had
taken place in her experience was not the only thing of this kind that
had ever happened or that ever was to happen. On the contrary, it was
the outcome of a great law of God's kingdom, which law regulated the
ordinary procedure of His providence. Hannah's heart was enlarged as she
thought how many others had shared or would share what had befallen her;
as she thought how such pride and arrogance as that which had tormented
her was doomed to be rebuked and brought low under God's government; how
many lowly souls that brought their burden to Him were to be relieved;
and how many empty and hungry hearts, pining for food and rest, were to
find how He "satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul
with goodness."

But it would seem that her thoughts took a still wider sweep. Looking on
herself as representing the nation of Israel, she seems to have felt
that what had happened to her on a small scale was to happen to the
nation on a large; for God would draw nigh to Israel as He had to her,
make him His friend and confidential servant, humble the proud and
malignant nations around him, and exalt him, if only he endeavoured
humbly and thankfully to comply with the Divine will. Is it possible
that her thoughts took a more definite form? May not the Holy Spirit
have given her a glimpse of the great truth--"Unto us a child is born,
unto us a son is given"? May she not have surmised that it was to be
through one born in the same land that the great redemption was to be
achieved? May she not have seen in her little Samuel the type and symbol
of another Child, to be more wonderfully born than hers, to be dedicated
to God's service in a higher sense, to fulfil all righteousness far
beyond anything in Samuel's power? And may not this high theme, carrying
her far into future times, carrying her on to the end of the world's
history, bearing her up even to eternity and infinity, have been the
cause of that utter absence of human regret, that apparent want of
motherly heart-sinking, which we mark in the song?

When we examine the substance of the song more carefully, we find that
Hannah derives her joy from four things about God:--1. His nature (vv.
2-3); 2. His providential government (vv. 4-8); 3. His most gracious
treatment of His saints (v. 9); 4. The glorious destiny of the kingdom
of His anointed.

1. In the second and third verses we find comfort derived from (1) God's
holiness, (2) His unity, (3) His strength, (4) His knowledge, and (5)
His justice.

(1) The _holiness_, the spotlessness of God is a source of
comfort,--"There is none holy as the Lord." To the wicked this attribute
is no comfort, but only a terror. Left to themselves, men take away this
attribute, and, like the Greeks and Romans and other pagans, ascribe to
their gods the lusts and passions of poor human creatures. Yet to those
who _can_ appreciate it, how blessed a thing is the holiness of God! No
darkness in Him, no corruption, no infirmity; absolutely pure, He
governs all on the principles of absolute purity; He keeps all up, even
in a sinful, crumbling world, to that high standard; and when His
schemes are completed, the blessed outcome will be "the new heavens and
the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness."

(2) His _unity_ gives comfort,--"There is none besides Thee." None to
thwart His righteous and gracious plans, or make those to tremble whose
trust is placed in Him. He doeth according to 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?"

(3) His _strength_ gives comfort,--"Neither is there any rock like our
God." "If God be for us, who can be against us?" "Hast thou not known,
hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of
the ends of the earth, fainteth not, nor is weary? There is no searching
of His understanding? He giveth power to the faint, and to them that
have no might He increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be
weary, and the young men shall utterly fall; but they that wait on the
Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as
eagles; they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not
faint."

(4) His _knowledge_ gives comfort,--"The Lord is a God of knowledge." He
sees all secret wickedness, and knows how to deal with it. His eye is on
every plot hatched in the darkness. He knows His faithful servants, what
they aim at, what they suffer, what a strain is often put on their
fidelity. And He never can forget them, and never can desert them, for
"the angel of the Lord encampeth about them that fear Him, and
delivereth them."

(5) His _justice_ gives comfort. "By Him actions are weighed." Their
true quality is ascertained; what is done for mean, selfish ends stands
out before Him in all its native ugliness, and draws down the
retribution that is meet. Men may perform the outward services of
religion with great regularity and apparent zeal, while their hearts are
full of all uncleanness and wickedness. The hypocrite may rise to
honour, the thief may become rich, men that prey upon the infirmities or
the simplicity of their fellows may prosper; but there is a God in
heaven by Whom all evil devices are weighed, and Who in His own time
will effectually checkmate all that either deny His existence or fancy
they can elude His righteous judgment.

2. These views of God's holy government are more fully enlarged on in
the second part of the song (vv. 3-8). The main feature of God's
providence dwelt on here is the changes that occur in the lot of certain
classes. The class against whom God's providence bears chiefly is the
haughty, the self-sufficient, the men of physical might who are ready to
use that might to the injury of others. Those again who lie in the path
of God's mercies are the weak, the hungry, the childless, the beggar.
Hannah uses a variety of figures. Now it is from the profession of
soldiers--"the bows of the mighty are broken"; and on the other hand
they that for very weakness were stumbling and staggering are girded
with strength. Now it is from the appetite for food--they that were full
have had to hire out themselves for bread, and they that were hungry are
hungry no more. Now it is from family life, and from a feature of family
life that came home to Hannah--"the barren hath borne seven, and she
that had many children is waxed feeble." And these changes are the doing
of God, "The Lord killeth and maketh alive; He bringeth down to the
grave and bringeth up. The Lord maketh poor and maketh rich, He bringeth
low and lifteth up. He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth
up the beggar from the dunghill, to set them among princes, and to make
them inherit the throne of glory; for the pillars of the earth are the
Lord's, and He hath set the world upon them." If nothing were taught
here but that there are great vicissitudes of fortune among men, then a
lesson would come from it alike to high and low--let the high beware
lest they glory in their fortune, let the low not sink into dejection
and despair. If it be further borne in mind that these changes of
fortune are all in the hands of God, a further lesson arises, to beware
how we offend God, and to live in the earnest desire to enjoy His
favour. But there is a further lesson. The class of qualities that are
here marked as offensive to God are pride, self-seeking,
self-sufficiency both in ordinary matters and in their spiritual
development. Your tyrannical and haughty Pharaohs, your high-vaunting
Sennacheribs, your pride-intoxicated Nebuchadnezzars, are objects of
special dislike to God. So is your proud Pharisee, who goes up to the
temple thanking God that he is not as other men, no, nor like that poor
publican, who is smiting on his breast, as well such a sinner may. It is
the lowly in heart that God takes pleasure in. "Thus saith the high and
lofty One, that inhabiteth eternity, and whose name is Holy: I dwell in
the high and in the holy place, but with him also that is of a humble
and contrite heart; to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive
the heart of the contrite one."

When we turn to the song of the Virgin we find the same strain--"He hath
showed strength with His arm, He hath scattered the proud in the
imagination of their hearts. He hath put down the mighty from their
seats, and exalted them of low degree. He hath filled the hungry with
good things, and the rich He hath sent empty away." Undoubtedly these
words have primary reference to the social conditions of men. Thanks are
given that the highest privilege that God could bestow on a creature had
been conferred not on any one rolling in luxury, but on a maiden of the
lowest class. This meaning does not exhaust the scope of the
thanksgiving, which doubtless embraces that law of the spiritual kingdom
to which Christ gave expression in the opening words of the Sermon on
the Mount, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of
heaven." Yet it is plain that both the song of Hannah and the song of
Mary dwell with complacency on that feature of providence by which men
of low degree are sometimes exalted, by which the beggar is sometimes
lifted from the dunghill, and set among princes to inherit the throne of
glory. Why is this? Can God have any sympathy with the spirit which
often prevails in the bosom of the poor towards the rich, which rejoices
in their downfall just because they are rich, and in the elevation of
others simply because they belong to the same class with themselves? The
thought is not to be entertained for a moment. In God's government there
is nothing partial or capricious. But the principle is this. Riches,
fulness, luxury are apt to breed pride and contempt of the poor; and it
pleases God at times, when such evil fruits appear, to bring down these
worthless rich men to the dust, in order to give a conspicuous rebuke to
the vanity, the ambition, the remorseless selfishness which were so
conspicuous in their character. What but this was the lesson from the
sudden fall of Cardinal Wolsey? Men, and even the best of men, thanked
God for that fall. Not that it gave them pleasure to see a poor wretch
who had been clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously
every day, reduced to so pitiful a plight; but because they felt it a
righteous thing and a wholesome thing that so proud and so wicked a
career should be terminated by a conspicuous manifestation of the
displeasure of God. The best instincts of men's nature longed for a
check to the monstrous pride and wicked avarice of that man; and when
that check was given, and given with such tremendous emphasis, there was
not an honest man or woman in all England who did not utter a hearty
"Praise God!" when they heard the terrible news.

So also it pleases God to give conspicuous proofs from time to time that
qualities that in poor men are often associated with a hard-working,
humble career are well-pleasing in His sight. For what qualities on the
part of the poor are so valuable, in a social point of view, as
industry, self-denying diligence, systematic, unwearying devotion even
to work which brings them such scanty remuneration? By far the greater
part of such men and women are called to work on, unnoticed and
unrewarded, and when their day is over to sink into an undistinguished
grave. But from time to time some such persons rise to distinction. The
class to which they belong is ennobled by their achievements. When God
wished in the sixteenth century to achieve the great object of punishing
the Church which had fallen into such miserable inefficiency and
immorality, and wrenching half of Europe from its grasp, he found his
principal agent in a poor miner's cottage in Saxony. When he desired to
summon a sleeping Church to the great work of evangelising India, the
man he called to the front was Carey, a poor cobbler of Northampton.
When it was his purpose to present His Church with an unrivalled picture
of the Christian pilgrimage, its dangers and trials, its joys, its
sorrows, and its triumphs, the artist appointed to the task was John
Bunyan, the tinker of Elstow. When the object was to provide a man that
would open the great continent of Africa to civilisation and
Christianity, and who needed, in order to do this, to face dangers and
trials before which all ordinary men had shrunk, he found his agent in a
poor spinner-boy, who was working twelve hours a day in a cotton mill on
the banks of the Clyde. In all such matters, in humbling the rich and
exalting the poor, God's object is not to punish the one because they
are rich, or to exalt the other because they are poor. In the one case
it is to punish vices bred from an improper use of wealth, and in the
other to reward virtues that have sprung from the soil of poverty. "Poor
_and_ pious parents," wrote David Livingstone on the tombstone of his
parents at Hamilton, when he wished to record the grounds of his
thankfulness for the position in life which they held. "I would not
exchange my peasant father for any king," said Thomas Carlyle, when he
thought of the gems of Christian worth that had shone out all the
brighter amid the hard conditions of his father's life. Riches are no
reproach, and poverty is no merit; but the pride so apt to be bred of
riches, the idleness, the injustice, the selfishness so often associated
with them, is what God likes to reprove; and the graces that may be
found in the poor man's home, the unwearied devotion to duty, the
neighbourliness and brotherly love, and above all the faith, the hope,
and the charity are what He delights to honour.

In the spiritual sense there is no more important ingredient of
character in God's sight than the sense of emptiness, and the conviction
that all goodness, all strength, all blessing must come from God. The
heart, thus emptied, is prepared to welcome the grace that is offered to
supply its needs. Air rushes into an exhausted receiver. Where the idea
prevails either that we are possessed of considerable native goodness,
or that we have only to take pains with ourselves to get it, there is no
welcome for the truth that "by grace are ye saved." Whoever says, "I am
rich and increased in goods, and have need of nothing," knows not that
"he is wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked."
Miserable they who live and die in this delusion! Happy they who have
been taught, "In me dwelleth no good thing." "All my springs are in
Thee." Jesus Christ "is made to us of God wisdom and righteousness and
sanctification and redemption." "Out of His fulness have we all
received, and grace for grace."

3. The third topic in Hannah's song is God's very gracious treatment of
His saints. "He will keep the feet of His saints." The term "feet" shows
the reference to be to their earthly life, their steps, their course
through the world. It is a promise which others would care for but
little, but which is very precious to all believers. To know the way in
which God would have one to go is of prime importance to every godly
heart. To be kept from wandering into unblest ways, kept from trifling
with temptation, and dallying with sin is an infinite blessing. "Oh that
my ways were directed to keep Thy statutes! Then shall I not be ashamed
when I have respect unto all Thy commandments." "He will keep the feet
of His saints."

4. And lastly, Hannah rejoices in that dispensation of mercy that was
coming in connection with God's "king, His anointed" (v. 10). Guided by
the Spirit, she sees that a king is coming, that a kingdom is to be set
up, and ruled over by the Lord's anointed. She sees that God's blessing
is to come down on the king, the anointed, and that under him the
kingdom is to prosper and to spread. Did she catch a glimpse of what was
to happen under such kings as David, Jehoshaphat, Hezekiah, and Josiah?
Did she see in prophetic vision the loving care of such kings for the
welfare of the people, their holy zeal for God, their activity and
earnestness in doing good? And did the glimpse of these coming benefits
suggest to her the thought of what was to be achieved by Him who was to
be the anointed one, the Messiah in a higher sense? We can hardly avoid
giving this scope to her song. It was but a small measure of these
blessings that her son personally could bring about. Her son seems to
give place to a higher Son, through whom the land would be blessed as no
one else could have blessed it, and all hungry and thirsty souls would
be guided to that living bread and living water of which whosoever ate
and drank should never hunger or thirst again.

What is the great lesson of this song? That for the answer to prayer,
for deliverance from trial, for the fulfilment of hopes, for the
glorious things yet spoken of the city of our God, our most cordial
thanksgivings are due to God. Every Christian life presents numberless
occasions that very specially call for such thanksgiving. But there is
one thanksgiving that must take precedence of all--"Thanks be unto God
for His unspeakable gift." "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ, who according to His abundant mercy hath begotten us
again unto a living hope, to an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled,
and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you, who are kept by
the power of God through faith unto salvation ready to be revealed in
the last day."



CHAPTER IV.

_ELI'S HOUSE._

1 SAMUEL ii. 11-36.


The notices of little Samuel, that alternate in this passage with the
sad accounts of Eli and his house, are like the green spots that vary
the dull stretches of sand in a desert; or like the little bits of blue
sky that charm your eye when the firmament is darkened by a storm. First
we are told how, after Elkanah and Hannah departed, the child Samuel
ministered unto the Lord before Eli the priest (v. 11); then comes an
ugly picture of the wickedness practised at Shiloh by Eli's sons (vv.
12-17); another episode brings Samuel again before us, with some details
of his own history and that of his family (vv. 18-21); this is followed
by an account of Eli's feeble endeavours to restrain the wickedness of
his sons (vv. 22-25). Once more we have a bright glimpse of Samuel, and
of his progress in life and character, very similar in terms to St.
Luke's account of the growth of the child Jesus (v. 26); and finally the
series closes with a painful narrative--the visit of a man of God to
Eli, reproving his guilty laxity in connection with his sons, and
announcing the downfall of his house (vv. 27-36). In the wickedness of
Eli's sons we see the enemy coming in like a flood; in the progress of
little Samuel we see the Spirit of the Lord lifting up a standard
against him. We see evil powerful and most destructive; we see the
instrument of healing very feeble--a mere infant. Yet the power of God
is with the infant, and in due time the force which he represents will
prevail. It is just a picture of the grand conflict of sin and grace in
the world. It was verified emphatically when Jesus was a child. How
slender the force seemed that was to scatter the world's darkness, roll
back its wickedness, and take away its guilt! How striking the lesson
for us not to be afraid though the apparent force of truth and goodness
in the world be infinitesimally small. The worm Jacob shall yet thresh
the mountains; the little flock shall yet possess the kingdom; "there
shall be a handful of corn on the top of the mountains, the fruit
thereof shall shake like Lebanon, and they of the city shall flourish
like grass of the earth."

It is mainly the picture of Eli's house and the behaviour of his family
that fills our eye in this chapter. It is to be noticed that Eli was a
descendant, not of Eleazar, the elder son of Aaron, but of Ithamar, the
younger. Why the high priesthood was transferred from the one family to
the other, in the person of Eli, we do not know. Evidently Eli's claim
to the priesthood was a valid one, for in the reproof addressed to him
it is fully assumed that he was the proper occupant of the office. One
is led to think that either from youth or natural feebleness the proper
heir in Eleazar's line had been unfit for the office, and that Eli had
been appointed to it as possessing the personal qualifications which the
other wanted. Probably therefore he was a man of vigour in his earlier
days, one capable of being at the head of affairs; and if so his loose
government of his family was all the more worthy of blame. It could not
have been that the male line in Eleazar's family had failed; for in the
time of David Zadok of the family of Eleazar was priest, along with
Abiathar, of the family of Ithamar and Eli. From Eli's administration
great things would seem to have been expected; all the more lamentable
and shameful was the state of things that ensued.

1. First our attention is turned to the gross wickedness and scandalous
behaviour of Eli's sons. There are many dark pictures in the history of
Israel in the time of the Judges,--pictures of idolatry, pictures of
lust, pictures of treachery, pictures of bloodshed; but there is none
more awful than the picture of the high priest's family at Shiloh. In
the other cases members of the nation had become grossly wicked; but in
this case it is the salt that has lost its savour--it is those who
should have led the people in the ways of God that have become the
ringleaders of the devil's army. Hophni and Phinehas take their places
in that unhonoured band where the names of Alexander Borgia, and many a
high ecclesiastic of the Middle Ages send forth their stinking savour.
They are marked by the two prevailing vices of the lowest natures--greed
and lechery. Their greed preys upon the worthy men who brought their
offerings to God's sanctuary in obedience to His law; their lechery
seduces the very women who, employed in the service of the place (see
Revised Version), might have reasonably thought of it as the gate to
heaven rather than the avenue of hell. So shameless were they in both
kinds of vice that they were at no pains to conceal either the one or
the other. It mattered nothing what regulations God had made as to the
parts of the offering the priest was to have; down went their fork into
the sacrificial caldron, and whatever it drew up became theirs. It
mattered not that the fat of certain sacrifices was due to God, and that
it ought to have been given off before any other use was made of the
flesh; the priests claimed the flesh in its integrity, and if the
offerer would not willingly surrender it their servant fell upon him and
wrenched it away. It is difficult to say whether the greater hurt was
inflicted by such conduct on the cause of religion or on the cause of
ordinary morality. As for the cause of religion, it suffered that
terrible blow which it always suffers whenever it is dissociated from
morality. The very heart and soul is torn out of religion when men are
led to believe that their duty consists in merely believing certain
dogmas, attending to outward observances, paying dues, and "performing"
worship. What kind of conception of God can men have who are encouraged
to believe that justice, mercy, and truth have nothing to do with His
service? How can they ever think of Him as a Spirit, who requires of
them that worship Him that they worship Him in spirit and in truth? How
can such religion give men a real veneration for God, or inspire them
with that spirit of obedience, trust, and delight of which he ought ever
to be the object? Under such religion all belief in God's existence
tends to vanish. Though His existence may continue to be acknowledged,
it is not a power, it has no influence; it neither stimulates to good
nor restrains from evil. Religion becomes a miserable form, without
life, without vigour, without beauty--a mere carcase deserving only to
be buried out of sight.

And if such a condition of things is fatal to religion, it is fatal to
morality too. Men are but too ready by nature to play loose with
conscience. But when the religious heads of the nation are seen at once
robbing man and robbing God, and when this is done apparently with
impunity, it seems foolish to ordinary men to mind moral restraints.
"Why should we mind the barriers of conscience" (the young men of Israel
might argue) "when these young priests disregard them? If we do as the
priest does we shall do very well." Men of corrupt lives at the head of
religion, who are shameless in their profligacy, have a lowering effect
on the moral life of the whole community. Down and down goes the
standard of living. Class after class gets infected. The mischief
spreads like dry rot in a building; ere long the whole fabric of society
is infected with the poison.

2. And how did the high priest deal with this state of things? In the
worst possible way. He spoke against it but he did not act against it.
He showed that he knew of it, he owned it to be very wicked; but he
contented himself with words of remonstrance, which in the case of such
hardened transgression were of no more avail than a child's breath
against a brazen wall. At the end of the day, it is true that Eli was a
decrepit old man, from whom much vigour of action could not have been
expected. But the evil began before he was so old and decrepit, and his
fault was that he did not restrain his sons at the time when he ought
and might have restrained them. Yes, but even if Eli was old and
decrepit when the actual state of things first burst on his view, there
was enough of the awful in the conduct of his sons to have roused him to
unwonted activity. David was old and decrepit, lying feebly at the edge
of death, when word was brought to him that Adonijah had been proclaimed
king in place of Solomon, for whom he had destined the throne. But
there was enough of the startling in this intelligence to bring back a
portion of its youthful fire to David's heart, and set him to devise the
most vigorous measures to prevent the mischief that was so ready to be
perpetrated. Fancy King David sending a meek message to Adonijah--"Nay,
my son, it is not on your head but on Solomon's that my crown is to
rest; go home, my son, and do nothing more in a course hurtful to
yourself and hurtful to your people." But; it was this foolish and most
inefficient course that Eli took with his sons. Had he acted as he
should have acted at the beginning, matters would never have come to
such a flagrant pass. But when the state of things became so terrible,
there was but one course that should have been thought of. When the
wickedness of the acting priests was so outrageous that men abhorred the
offering of the Lord, the father ought to have been sunk in the high
priest; the men who had so dishonoured their office should have been
driven from the place, and the very remembrance of the crime they had
committed should have been obliterated by the holy lives and holy
service of better men. It was inexcusable in Eli to allow them to
remain. If he had had a right sense of his office he would never for one
moment have allowed the interest of his family to outweigh the claims of
God. What! Had God in the wilderness, by a solemn and deadly judgment,
removed from office and from life the two elder sons of Aaron simply
because they had offered strange fire in their censers? And what was the
crime of offering strange fire compared to the crime of robbing God, of
violating the Decalogue, of openly practising gross and daring
wickedness, under the very shadow of the tabernacle? If Eli did not take
steps for stopping these atrocious proceedings, he might rely on it
that steps would be taken in another quarter--God Himself would mark His
sense of the sin.

For what were the interests of his sons compared with the credit of the
national worship? What mattered it that the sudden stroke would fall on
them with startling violence? If it did not lead to their repentance and
salvation it would at least save the national religion from degradation,
and it would thus bring benefit to tens of thousands in the land. All
this Eli did not regard. He could not bring himself to be harsh to his
own sons. He could not bear that they should be disgraced and degraded.
He would satisfy himself with a mild remonstrance, notwithstanding that
every day new disgrace was heaped on the sanctuary, and new
encouragement given to others to practise wickedness, by the very men
who should have been foremost in honouring God, and sensitive to every
breath that would tarnish His name.

How differently God's servants acted in other days! How differently
Moses acted when he came down from the mount and found the people
worshipping the golden calf! "It came to pass, as soon as he came nigh
unto the camp, that he saw the calf and the dancing: and Moses' anger
waxed hot, and he cast the tables out of his hands and brake them
beneath the mount. And he took the calf which they had made, and burnt
it in the fire, and ground it to powder, and strawed it upon the water,
and made the children of Israel drink of it.... And Moses stood in the
gate of the camp and said, Who is on the Lord's side? let him come unto
me. And all the sons of Levi gathered themselves together unto him. And
he said unto them, Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, Put every man his
sword by his side, and go in and out from gate to gate through the camp,
and slay every man his brother, and every man his companion, and every
man his neighbour." Do we think this too sharp and severe a retribution?
At all events it marked in a suitable way the enormity of the offence of
Aaron and the people, and the awful provocation of Divine judgments
which the affair of the golden calf implied. It denoted that in presence
of such a sin the claims of kindred were never for a moment to be
thought of; and in the blessing of Moses it was a special commendation
of the zeal of Levi, that "he said unto his father, and to his mother, I
have not seen him; neither did he acknowledge his brethren, nor knew his
own children." It was the outrageous character of the offence in the
matter of the golden calf that justified the severe and abrupt
procedure; but it was Eli's condemnation that though the sin of his sons
was equally outrageous, he was moved to no indignation, and took no step
to rid the tabernacle of men so utterly unworthy.

It is often very difficult to explain how it comes to pass that godly
men have had ungodly children. There is little difficulty in accounting
for this on the present occasion. There was a fatal defect in the method
of Eli. His remonstrance with his sons is not made at the proper time.
It is not made in the fitting tone. When disregarded, it is not followed
up by the proper consequences. We can easily think of Eli letting the
boys have their own will and their own way when they were young;
threatening them for disobedience, but not executing the threat; angry
at them when they did wrong, but not punishing the offence; vacillating
perhaps between occasional severity and habitual indulgence, till
by-and-bye all fear of sinning had left them, and they coolly calculated
that the grossest wickedness would meet with nothing worse than a
reproof. How sad the career of the young men themselves! We must not
forget that, however inexcusable their father was, the great guilt of
the proceeding was theirs. How must they have hardened their hearts
against the example of Eli, against the solemn claims of God, against
the holy traditions of the service, against the interests and claims of
those whom they ruined, against the welfare of God's chosen people! How
terribly did their familiarity with sacred things react on their
character, making them treat even the holy priesthood as a mere trade, a
trade in which the most sacred interests that could be conceived were
only as counters, to be turned by them into gain and sensual pleasure!
Could anything come nearer to the sin against the Holy Ghost? No wonder
though their doom was that of persons judicially blinded and hardened.
They were given up to a reprobate mind, to do those things that were not
convenient. "They hearkened not to the voice of their father, because
the Lord would slay them." They experienced the fate of men who
deliberately sin against the light, who love their lusts so well that
nothing will induce them to fight against them; they were so hardened
that repentance became impossible, and it was necessary for them to
undergo the full retribution of their wickedness.

3. But it is time we should look at the message brought to Eli by the
man of God. In that message Eli was first reminded of the gracious
kindness shown to the house of Aaron in their being entrusted with the
priesthood, and in their having an honourable provision secured for
them. Next he is asked why he trampled on God's sacrifice and offering
(marg. Revised Version), and considered the interests of his sons above
the honour of God? Then he is told that any previous promise of the
perpetuity of his house is now qualified by the necessity God is under
to have regard to the character of his priests, and honour or degrade
them accordingly. In accordance with this rule the house of Eli would
suffer a terrible degradation. He (this includes his successors in
office) would be stript of "his arm," that is, his strength. No member
of his house would reach a good old age. The establishment at Shiloh
would fall more and more into decay, as if there was an enemy in God's
habitation. Any who might remain of the family would be a grief and
distress to those whom Eli represented. The young men themselves, Hophni
and Phinehas, would die the same day. Those who shared their spirit
would come crouching to the high priest of the day and implore him to
put them into one of the priest's offices, not to give them the
opportunity of serving God, but that they might eat a piece of bread.
Terrible catalogue of curses and calamities! Oh, sin, what a brood of
sorrows dost thou bring forth! Oh, young man, who walkest in the ways of
thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes, what a myriad of distresses
dost thou prepare for those whom thou art most bound to care for and to
bless! Oh, minister of the gospel, who allowest thyself to tamper with
the cravings of the flesh till thou hast brought ruin on thyself,
disgrace on thy family, and confusion on thy Church, what infatuation
was it to admit thy worst foe to the sanctuary of thy bosom, and allow
him to establish himself in the citadel till thou couldst not get quit
of him, so that thou art now helpless in his hands, with nothing but
sadness for thy present inheritance, and for the future a fearful
looking for of judgment and fiery indignation!

One word, in conclusion, respecting that great principle of the kingdom
of God announced by the prophet as that on which Jehovah would act in
reference to His priests--"Them that honour Me I will honour, but they
that despise Me shall be lightly esteemed." It is one of the grandest
sayings in Scripture. It is the eternal rule of the kingdom of God, not
limited to the days of Hophni and Phinehas, but, like the laws of the
Medes and Persians, eternal as the ordinances of heaven. It is a law
confirmed by all history; every man's life confirms it, for though this
life is but the beginning of our career, and the final clearing up of
Divine providence is to be left to the judgment-day, yet when we look
back on the world's history we find that those that have honoured God,
God has honoured them, while they that have despised Him have indeed
been lightly esteemed. However men may try to get their destiny into
their own hands; however they may secure themselves from this trouble
and from that; however, like the first Napoleon, they may seem to become
omnipotent, and to wield an irresistible power, yet the day of
retribution comes at last; having sown to the flesh, of the flesh also
they reap corruption. While the men that have honoured God, the men that
have made their own interests of no account, but have set themselves
resolutely to obey God's will and do God's work; the men that have
believed in God as the holy Ruler and Judge of the world, and have
laboured in private life and in public service to carry out the great
rules of His kingdom,--justice, mercy, the love of God and the love of
man,--these are the men that God has honoured; these are the men whose
work abides; these are the men whose names shine with undying honour,
and from whose example and achievements young hearts in every following
age draw their inspiration and encouragement. What a grand rule of life
it is, for old and young! Do you wish a maxim that shall be of high
service to you in the voyage of life, that shall enable you to steer
your barque safely both amid the open assaults of evil, and its secret
currents, so that, however tossed you may be, you may have the assurance
that the ship's head is in the right direction, and that you are moving
steadily towards the desired haven; where can you find anything more
clear, more fitting, more sure and certain than just these words of the
Almighty, "Them that honour Me I will honour; but they that despise Me
shall be lightly esteemed"?



CHAPTER V.

_SAMUEL'S VISION._

1 SAMUEL iii.


It is evident that Samuel must have taken very kindly to the duties of
the sanctuary. He was manifestly one of those who are sanctified from
infancy, and whose hearts go from the first with sacred duties. There
were no wayward impulses to subdue, no hankerings after worldly freedom
and worldly enjoyment; there was no necessity for coercive measures,
either to restrain him from outbursts of frivolity or to compel him to
diligence and regularity in his calling. From the first he looked with
solemn awe and holy interest on all that related to the worship of God;
that, to him, was the duty above all other duties, the privilege above
all other privileges. God to him was not a mere idea, an abstraction,
representing merely the dogmas and services of religion. God was a
reality, a personality, a Being who dealt very closely with men, and
with whom they were called to deal very closely too. We can easily
conceive how desirous little Samuel would be to know something of the
meaning of the services at Shiloh; how scrupulous to perform every duty,
how regular and real in his prayers, and how full of reverence and
affection for God. He would go about all his duties with a grave,
sweet, earnest face, conscious of their importance and solemnity; always
thinking more of them than of anything else,--thinking perhaps of the
service of the angels in heaven, and trying to serve God as they served
Him, to do God's will on earth as it was done in heaven.

At the opening of this chapter he seems to be the confidential servant
of the high priest, sleeping near to him, and in the habit of receiving
directions from him. He must be more than a child now, otherwise he
would not be entrusted, as he was, with the opening of the doors of the
house of the Lord.

The evil example of Hophni and Phinehas, so far from corrupting him,
seems to have made him more resolute the other way. It was horrid and
disgusting; and as gross drunkenness on the part of a father sometimes
sets the children the more against it, so the profligacy of the young
priests would make Samuel more vigilant in every matter of duty. That
Eli bore as he did with the conduct of his sons must have been a great
perplexity to him, and a great sorrow; but it did not become one at his
time of life to argue the question with the aged high priest. This
conduct of Eli's did not in any respect diminish the respectful bearing
of Samuel towards him, or his readiness to comply with his every wish.
For Eli was God's high priest; and in engaging to be God's servant in
the tabernacle Samuel knew well that he took the high priest as his
earthly master.

1. The first thing that engages our special attention in this chapter is
the singular way in which Samuel was called to receive God's message in
the temple.

The word of God was rare in those days; there was no open vision, or
rather no vision that came abroad, that was promulgated to the nation
as the expression of God's will. From the tone in which this is referred
to, it was evidently looked on as a want, as placing the nation in a
less desirable position than in days when God was constantly
communicating His will. Now, however, God is to come into closer contact
with the people, and for this purpose He is to employ a new instrument
as the medium of His messages. For God is never at a loss for suitable
instruments--they are always ready when peculiar work has to be done. In
the selection of the boy Samuel as his prophet there is something
painful, but likewise something very interesting. It is painful to find
the old high priest passed over; his venerable years and venerable
office would naturally have pointed to him; but in spite of many good
qualities, in one point he is grossly unfaithful, and the very purpose
of the vision now to be made is to declare the outcome of his
faithlessness. But it is interesting to find that already the child of
Hannah is marked out for this distinguished service. Even in his case
there is opportunity for verifying the rule, "Them that honour Me I will
honour." His entire devotion to God's service, so beautiful in one of
such tender years, is the sign of a character well adapted to become the
medium of God's habitual communications with His people. Young though he
is, his very youth in one sense will prove an advantage. It will show
that what he speaks is not the mere fruit of his own thinking, but is
the message of God. It will show that the spiritual power that goes
forth with his words is not his own native force, but the force of the
Holy Spirit dwelling in him. It will thus be made apparent to all that
God has not forsaken His people, corrupt and lamentably wicked though
the young priests are.

Both Eli and Samuel sleep within the precincts of the tabernacle. Not,
however, in the sanctuary itself, but in one of those buildings that
opened into its courts, which were erected for the accommodation of the
priests and Levites. Eli's sight was failing him, and perhaps the care
of the lamp as well as the door was entrusted to Samuel. The lamp was to
burn always (Exod. xxvii. 20), that is, it was to be trimmed and lighted
every morning and evening (Exod. xxx. 7, 8); and to attend to this was
primarily the high priest's duty. The lamp had doubtless been duly
trimmed, and it would probably continue burning through a good part of
the night. It was not yet out when a voice fell on the ears of Samuel,
loud enough to rouse him from the profound slumber into which he had
probably fallen. Thinking it was Eli's, he ran to his side; but Eli had
not called him. Again the voice sounded, again Samuel springs to his
feet and hastens to the high priest; again he is sent back with the same
assurance. A third time the voice calls; a third time the willing and
dutiful Samuel flies to Eli's side, but this time he is sent back with a
different answer. Hitherto Samuel had not known the Lord--that is, he
had not been cognisant of His way of communicating with men in a
supernatural form--and it had never occurred to him that such a thing
could happen in his case. But Eli knew that such communications were
made at times by God, and, remembering the visit of the man of God to
himself, he may have surmised that this was another such occasion. The
voice evidently was no natural voice; so Samuel is told to lie down once
more, to take the attitude of simple receptiveness, and humbly invite
God to utter His message.

There are some lesser traits of Samuel's character in this part of the
transaction which ought not to be passed over without remark. The
readiness with which he springs from his bed time after time, and the
meekness and patience with which he asks Eli for his orders, without a
word of complaint on his apparently unreasonable conduct, make it very
clear that Samuel had learned to subdue two things--to subdue his body
and to subdue his temper. It is not an easy thing for a young person in
the midst of a deep sleep to spring to his feet time after time. In such
circumstances the body is very apt to overcome the mind. But Samuel's
mind overcame the body. The body was the servant, not the master. What
an admirable lesson Samuel had already learned! Few parts of early
education are so important as to learn to keep the body in subjection.
To resist bodily cravings, whether greater or smaller, which unfit one
for duty; temptations to drink, or smoke, or dawdle, or lie in bed, or
waste time when one ought to be up and doing; to be always ready for
one's work, punctual, methodical, purpose-like, save only when sickness
intervenes,--denotes a very admirable discipline for a young person, and
is a sure token of success in life. Not less admirable is that control
over the temper which Samuel had evidently acquired. To be treated by
Eli as he supposed that he had been, was highly provoking. Why drag him
out of bed at that time of night at all? Why drag him over the cold
stones in the chill darkness, and why tantalise him first by denying
that he called him and then by calling him again? As far as appears,
Samuel's temper was in no degree ruffled by the treatment he appeared to
be receiving from Eli; he felt that he was a servant, and Eli was his
master, and it was his part to obey his master, however unreasonable
his treatment might be.

2. We proceed now to the message itself, and Samuel's reception of it.
It is substantially a repetition of what God had already communicated to
Eli by the man of God a few years before; only it is more peremptory,
and the bearing of it is more fixed and rigid. When God denounced His
judgment on Eli's house by the prophet, he seems to have intended to
give them an opportunity to repent. If Eli had bestirred himself then,
and banished the young men from Shiloh, and if his sons in their
affliction and humiliation had repented of their wickedness, the
threatened doom might have been averted. So at least we are led to
believe by this second message having been superadded to the first. Now
the opportunity of repentance has passed away. God's words are very
explicit--"I have sworn unto the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli's
house shall not be purged with sacrifice nor offering for ever." After
the previous warning, Eli seems to have gone on lamenting but not
chastising. Hophni and Phinehas seem to have gone on sinning as before,
and heedless of the scandal they were causing. In announcing to Samuel
the coming catastrophe, God shows Himself thoroughly alive to the
magnitude of the punishment He is to inflict, and the calamity that is
to happen. It is such that the ears of every one that heareth it shall
tingle. God shows also that, painful though it is, it has been
deliberately determined, and no relenting will occur when once the
terrible retribution begins. "In that day will I perform against Eli all
that I have spoken concerning his house; when I begin I will also make
an end." But terrible though the punishment will be, there is only too
good cause for it. "For I have told him that I will judge his house for
ever, for the iniquity which he knoweth; because his sons made
themselves vile, and he restrained them not." There are some good
parents whose sons have made themselves vile, and they would fain have
restrained them but their efforts to restrain have been in vain. The
fault of Eli was, that he might have restrained them and he did not
restrain them. In those times fathers had more authority over their
families than is given them now. The head of the house was counted
responsible for the house, because it was only by his neglecting the
power he had that his family could become openly wicked. It was only by
Eli neglecting the power he had that his sons could have become so vile.
Where his sons were heirs to such sacred functions there was a double
call to restrain them, and that call he neglected. He neglected it at
the time when he might have done it, and that time could never be
recalled.

So, there is an age when children may be restrained, and if that age is
allowed to pass the power of restraining them goes along with it. There
are faults in this matter on the part of many parents, on the right hand
and on the left. Many err by not restraining at all. Mothers begin while
their children are yet infants to humour their every whim, and cannot
bear to hold back from them anything they may wish. It is this habit
that is liable to have such a terrible reaction. There are other parents
that while they restrain do not restrain wisely. They punish, but they
do not punish in love. They are angry because their children have broken
their rules; they punish in anger, and the punishment falls merely as
the blow of a stronger person on a weaker. It does not humble, it does
not soften. What awful consequences it often brings! What skeletons it
lodges in many a house! God has designed the family to be the nurse of
what is best and purest in human life, and when this design is crossed
then the family institution, which was designed to bring the purest joy,
breeds the darkest misery. And this is one of the forms of retribution
on wickedness which we see carried out in their fulness in the present
life! How strange, that men should be in any doubt as to God carrying
out the retribution of wickedness to the bitter end! How singular they
should disbelieve in a hell! The end of many a career is written in
these words:--"Thine own wickedness shall correct thee, and thy
backslidings shall reprove thee; know therefore, and see that it is an
evil thing and bitter that thou hast forsaken the Lord thy God, and that
My fear is not in thee, saith the Lord God of hosts."

3. And now we go on to the meeting of Eli and Samuel. Samuel is in no
haste to communicate to Eli the painful message he has received. He has
not been required to do it, and he lies till the morning, awake we may
believe, but staggered and dismayed. As usual he goes to open the doors
of God's house. And then it is that Eli calls him. "What is the thing
that He hath said unto thee?" he asks. He adjures Samuel to tell him
all. And Samuel does tell him all. And Eli listens in silence, and when
it is over he says, with meek resignation, "It is the Lord; let Him do
what seemeth Him good."

We are touched by this behaviour of Eli. First we are touched by his
bearing toward Samuel. He knows that God has conferred an honour on
Samuel which He has not bestowed on him, but young though Samuel is he
feels no jealousy, he betrays no sign of wounded pride. It is not easy
for God's servants to bear being passed over in favour of others, in
favour of younger men. A feeling of mortification is apt to steal on
them, accompanied with some bitterness toward the object of God's
preference. This venerable old man shows nothing of that feeling. He is
not too proud to ask Samuel for a full account of God's message. He will
not have him leave anything out, out of regard to his feelings. He must
know the whole, however painful it may be. He has learned to reverence
God's truth, and he cannot bear the idea of not knowing all. And Samuel,
who did not wish to tell him anything, is now constrained to tell him
the whole. "He told him every whit, and hid nothing from him." He did
not shun to declare to him the whole counsel of God. Admirable example
for all God's servants! How averse some men are to hear the truth! And
how prone are we to try to soften what is disagreeable in our message to
sinners--to take off the sharp edge, and sheathe it in generalities and
possibilities. It is no real kindness. The kindest thing we can do is to
declare God's doom on sin, and to assure men that any hopes they may
cherish of His relenting to do as He has said are vain hopes--"When I
begin," says God, "I will also make an end."

And we are touched further by Eli's resignation to God's will. The words
of Samuel must have raised a deep agony in his spirit when he thought of
the doom of his sons. Feeble though he was, there might have arisen in
his heart a gust of fierce rebellion against that doom. But nothing of
the kind took place. Eli was memorable for the passive virtues. He could
bear much, though he could dare little. He could submit, but he could
not fight. We find him here meekly recognizing the Divine will. God has
a right to do what He will with His own; and who am I that I should cry
out against Him? He is the Supreme Disposer of all events; why should a
worm like me stand in His way? He submits implicitly to God. "The thing
formed must not say to Him that formed him, Why hast Thou formed me
thus"? What God ordains must be right. It is a terrible blow to Eli, but
he may understand the bearings of it better in another state. He bows to
that Supreme Will which he has learned to trust and to honour above
every force in the universe.

Yes, we are touched by Eli's meekness and submission. And yet, though
Eli had in him the stuff that martyrs are often made of, his character
was essentially feeble, and his influence was not wholesome. He wanted
that resolute purpose which men like Daniel possessed. His will was too
feeble to control his life. He was too apprehensive of immediate
trouble, of present inconvenience and unpleasantness, to carry out firm
principles of action against wickedness, even in his own family. He was
a memorable instance of the soundness of the principle afterwards laid
down by St. Paul: "If a man know not how to rule his own house, how
shall he take care of the Church of God?" He greatly needed the
exhortation which God gave to Joshua--"Be strong and of a good courage."
It is true his infirmity was one of natural temperament. Men might say
he could not help it. Neither can one overcome temperament altogether.
But men of feeble temperament, especially when set over others, have
great need to watch it, and ask God to strengthen them where they are
weak. Divine grace has a wonderful power to make up the defects of
nature. Timid, irresolute Peter was a different man after his fall.
Divine grace turned him into a rock after all. The coward who had shrunk
from before a maiden got courage to defy a whole Sanhedrim. In the
ministers of God's house the timid, crouching spirit is specially
unseemly. They, at least, would need to rest on firm convictions, and to
be governed by a resolute will. "Finally, brethren, be strong in the
Lord and in the power of His might. Put on the whole armour of God, that
ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to
stand."

4. Samuel is now openly known to be the prophet of the Lord. "Samuel
grew, and the Lord was with him, and did let none of his words fall to
the ground." Little didst thou think, Hannah, some twenty years ago,
that the child thou didst then ask of the Lord would ere long supersede
the high priest who showed so little tact and judgment in interpreting
the agitation of thy spirit! No, thou hast no feeling against the
venerable old man; but thou canst not but wonder at the ups and downs of
Providence; thou canst not but recall the words of thine own song, "He
bringeth low, and lifteth up." And Samuel has not to fight his way to
public recognition, or wait long till it come. "All Israel, from Dan
even to Beersheba, knew that Samuel was established to be a prophet of
the Lord."

And by-and-bye other oracles came to him, by which all men might have
known that he was the recognized channel of communication between God
and the people. We shall see in our next chapter into what trouble the
nation was brought by disregarding his prophetic office, and recklessly
determining to drag the ark of God into the battlefield. Meanwhile we
cannot but remark what a dangerous position, in a mere human point of
view, Samuel now occupied. The danger was that which a young man
encounters when suddenly or early raised to the possession of high
spiritual power. Samuel, though little more than a boy, was now
virtually the chief man in Israel. Set so high, his natural danger was
great. But God, who placed him there, sustained in him the spirit of
humble dependence. After all he was but God's servant. Humble obedience
was still his duty. And in this higher sphere his career was but a
continuation of what had been described when it was said, "The child
Samuel ministered to the Lord in Shiloh."



CHAPTER VI.

_THE ARK OF GOD TAKEN BY THE PHILISTINES._

1 SAMUEL iv.


We are liable to form an erroneous impression of the connection of
Samuel with the transactions of this chapter, in consequence of a clause
which ought to belong to the last chapter, being placed, in the
Authorized Version, at the beginning of this. The clause "And the word
of Samuel came to all Israel" belongs really to the preceding chapter.
It denotes that Samuel was now over all Israel the recognized channel of
communication between the people and God. But it does not denote that
the war with the Philistines, of which mention is immediately made, was
undertaken at Samuel's instance. In fact, the whole chapter is
remarkable for the absence of Samuel's name. What is thus denoted seems
to be that Samuel was not consulted either about the war or about the
taking of the ark into the battle. Whatever he may have thought of the
war, he would undoubtedly have been horrified at the proposal about the
ark. That whole transaction must have seemed to him a piece of
infatuation. Probably it was carried into effect in a kind of tumultuous
frenzy. But there can be no reasonable doubt that whatever Samuel could
have done to oppose it would have been done with the greatest
eagerness.

The history is silent about the Philistines from the days of Samson. The
last we have heard of them was the fearful tragedy at the death of that
great Judge of Israel, when the house fell upon the lords and the
people, and such a prodigious slaughter of their great men took place.
From that calamity they seem now to have revived. They would naturally
be desirous to revenge that unexampled catastrophe, and as Ebenezer and
Aphek are situated in the land of Israel, it would seem that the
Philistines were the aggressors. They had come up from the Philistine
plain to the mountainous country of Israel, and no doubt had already
sent many of the people to flight through whose farms they came. As the
Israelites had no standing army, the troops that opposed the Philistines
could be little better than an untrained horde. When they joined battle,
Israel was smitten before the Philistines, and they slew of the army
about four thousand men. In a moral point of view the defeat was
strange; the Philistines had made the attack, and the Israelites were
fighting for their homes and hearths; yet victory was given to the
invaders, and in four thousand homes of Israel there was lamentation and
woe.

But this was not really strange. Israel needed chastening, and the
Philistines were God's instruments for that purpose. In particular,
judgment was due to the sons of Eli; and the defeat inflicted by the
Philistines, and the mistaken and superstitious notion which seized on
the people that they would do well to take God's ark into the battle,
were the means by which their punishment came. How often Providence
seems to follow a retrograde course! And yet it is a forward course all
the time, although from our point of view it seems backward; just as
those planets which are nearer the sun than the earth sometimes seem to
us to reverse the direction of their movement; although if we were
placed in the centre of the system we should see very plainly that they
are moving steadily forward all the time.

Three things call for special notice in the main narrative of this
chapter--1. The preparation for the battle; 2. The battle itself; and 3.
The result when the news was carried to Shiloh.

1. The preparation for the battle was the sending for the ark of the
Lord to Shiloh, so that Israel might fight under the immediate presence
and protection of their God.

It seemed a brilliant idea. Whichever of the elders first suggested it,
it caught at once, and was promptly acted on. There were two great
objections to it, but if they were so much as entertained they certainly
had no effect given them. The first was, that the elders had no
legitimate control over the ark. The custody of it belonged to the
priests and the Levites, and Eli was the high priest. If the rulers of
the nation at any time desired to remove the ark (as David afterwards
did when he placed it on Mount Zion), that could only be done after
clear indications that the step was in accordance with the will of God,
and with the full consent of the priests. There is no reason to suppose
that any means were taken to find out whether its removal to the camp
was in accordance with the will of God; and as to the mind of the
priests, Eli was probably passed over as too old and too blind to be
consulted, and Hophni and Phinehas would be restrained by no scruples
from an act which every one seemed to approve. The second great
objection to the step was that it was a superstitious and irreverent use
of the symbol of God's presence. Evidently the people ascribed to the
symbol the glorious properties that belonged only to the reality. They
expected that the symbol of God's presence would do for them all that
might be done by His presence itself. And doubtless there had been
occasions when the symbol and the reality went together. In the
wilderness, in the days of Moses, "It came to pass, when the ark set
forward, that Moses said, Rise up, Lord, and let Thine enemies be
scattered, and let them that hate Thee flee before Thee" (Num. x. 35).
But these were occasions determined by the cloud rising and going before
the host, an unmistakable indication of the will of God (Num. ix.
15-22). God's real presence accompanied the ark on these occasions, and
all that was expressed in the symbol was actually enjoyed by the people.
There was no essential or inherent connection between the two; the
actual connection was determined merely by the good pleasure of God. It
pleased Him to connect them, and connected they were. But the ignorant
and superstitious elders forgot that the connection between the symbol
and the reality was of this nature; they believed it to be inherent and
essential. In their unthinking and unreasoning minds the symbol might be
relied on to produce all the effect of the reality. If only the ark of
God were carried into the battle, the same effect would take place as
when Moses said in the wilderness, "Rise up, Lord, and let Thine enemies
be scattered."

Could anything show more clearly the unspiritual tendencies of the human
mind in its conceptions of God, and of the kind of worship He should
receive? The idea of God as the living God is strangely foreign to the
human heart. To think of God as one who has a will and purpose of His
own, and who will never give His countenance to any undertaking that
does not agree with that will and purpose, is very hard for the
unspiritual man. To make the will of God the first consideration in any
enterprise, so that it is not to be thought of if He do not approve, and
is never to be despaired of if He be favourable, is a bondage and a
trouble beyond his ability. Yet even superstitious men believe in a
supernatural power. And they believe in the possibility of enlisting
that power on their side. And the method they take is to ascribe the
virtue of a charm to certain external objects with which that power is
associated. The elders of Israel ascribed this virtue to the ark. They
never inquired whether the enterprise was agreeable to the mind and will
of God. They never asked whether in this case there was any ground for
believing that the symbol and the reality would go together. They simply
ascribed to the symbol the power of a talisman, and felt secure of
victory under its shadow.

Would that we could think of this spirit as extinct even in Christian
communities! What is the Romish and the very High Church doctrine of the
sacraments but an ascription to them, when rightly used, of the power of
a charm? The sacraments, as Scripture teaches, are symbols of very
glorious realities, and wherever the symbols are used in accordance with
God's will the realities are sure to be enjoyed. But it has long been
the doctrine of the Church of Rome, and it is the doctrine of Churches,
with similar views, that the sacraments are reservoirs of grace, and
that to those who place no fatal obstacle in their way, grace comes from
them _ex opere operato_, from the very act of receiving them. It is the
Protestant and scriptural doctrine that by stimulating faith, by
encouraging us to look to the living Saviour, and draw from Him in whom
all fulness dwells, the sacraments bring to us copious supplies of
grace, but that without the presence of that living Saviour they would
be merely as empty wells. The High Church view regards them as charms,
that have a magic virtue to bless the soul. The superstitious mother
thinks if only her child is baptised it will be saved, the act of
baptism will do it, and she never thinks of the living Saviour and His
glorious grace. The dying sinner thinks, if only he had the last
sacraments, he would be borne peacefully and well through the dark
scenes of death and judgment, and forgets that the commandment of
Scripture is not, Look unto the last sacraments, but, "Look _unto Me_
and be ye saved." Alas! what will men not substitute for personal
dealings with the living God? The first book and the last book of the
Bible present sad proof of his recoil from such contact. In Genesis, as
man hears God's voice, he runs to hide himself among the trees of the
garden. In Revelation, when the Judge appears, men call on the mountains
to fall on them and hide them from Him that sitteth on the throne. Only
when we see God's face, beautiful and loving, in Christ, can this
aversion be overcome.

If the presence of the ark in the field of battle did much to excite the
hopes of the Israelites, it did not less to raise the fears of their
opponents. The shout with which its arrival was hailed by the one struck
something of consternation into the breasts of the other. But now, an
effect took place on which the Israelites had not reckoned. The
Philistines were too wise a people to yield to panic. If the Hebrew God,
that did such wonders in the wilderness, was present with their
opponents, there was all the more need for their bestirring themselves
and quitting them like men. The elders of Israel had not reckoned on
this wise plan. It teaches us, even from a heathen point of view, never
to yield to panic. Even when everything looks desperate, there may be
some untried resource to fall back on. And if this be a lesson to be
learnt from pagans, much more surely may it be thought of by believers,
who know that man's extremity is often God's opportunity, and that no
peril is too imminent for God not to be able to deliver.

2. And now the battle rages. The hope of misguided Israel turns out an
illusion. They find, to their consternation, that the symbol does not
carry the reality. It pleases God to allow the ark with which His name
is so intimately associated to be seized by the enemy. The Philistines
carry everything before them. The ark is taken, Hophni and Phinehas are
slain, and there fall of Israel thirty thousand footmen.

Can we fancy the feelings of the two priests who attended the ark as the
defeat of the army of Israel became inevitable? The ark would probably
be carried near the van of the army, preceded by some of the most
valiant troops of Israel. No doubt it had been reckoned on that as soon
as its sacred form was recognized by the Philistines, fear would seize
on them, and they would fly before it. It must have made the two priests
look grave when nothing of the kind took place, but the host of the
Philistines advanced in firm and intrepid phalanx to the fight. But
surely the first onset of the advanced guard will show with whose army
the victory is to lie. The advanced guards are at close quarters, and
the men of Israel give way. Was there conscience enough left in these
two men to flash into their minds that God, whose Holy Spirit they had
vexed, was turned to be their enemy, and was now fighting against them?
Did they, in that supreme moment, get one of those momentary glimpses,
in which the whole iniquities of a lifetime seem marshalled before the
soul, and the enormity of its guilt overwhelms it? Did they feel the
anguish of men caught in their own iniquities, every hope perished,
death inevitable, and after death the judgment? There is not one word,
either in this chapter or in what precedes it, from which the slightest
inference in their favour can be drawn. They died apparently as they had
lived, in the very act of dishonouring God. With the weapons of
rebellion in their hands, and the stains of guilt on their hearts, they
were hurried into the presence of the Judge. Now comes the right
estimate of their reckless, guilty life. All the arts of sophistry, all
the refuges of lies, all their daring contempt of the very idea of a
retribution on sin, are swept away in a moment. They are confronted with
the awful reality of their doom. They see more vividly than even Eli or
Samuel the truth of one part, certainly, of the Divine rule--"Them that
honour Me I will honour; but they that despise Me shall be lightly
esteemed."

The time of guilty pleasure has passed for ever away; the time of
endless retribution has begun. Oh, how short, how miserable, how
abominable appears to them now the revelry of their evil life! what
infatuation it was to forswear all the principles in which they had been
reared, to laugh at the puritanic strictness of their father, to sit in
the seat of the scorner, and pour contempt on the law of God's house!
How they must have cursed the folly that led them into such awful ways
of sin, how sighed in vain that they had not in their youth chosen the
better part, how wished they had never been born!

3. But we must leave the field of battle and hasten back to Shiloh.
Since the ark was carried off Eli must have had a miserable time of it,
reproaching himself for his weakness if he gave even a reluctant assent
to the plan, and feeling that uncertainty of conscience which keeps one
even from prayer, because it makes one doubtful if God will listen. Poor
old man of ninety-eight years, he could but tremble for the ark! His
official seat had been placed somewhere on the wayside, where he would
be near to get tidings from the field of any one who might come with
them, and quite probably a retinue of attendants was around him. At last
a great shout of horror is heard, for a man of Benjamin has come in
sight with his clothes rent and earth upon his head. It is but too
certain a sign of calamity. But who could have thought of the extent of
the calamity which with such awful precision he crowded into his answer?
Israel is fled before the Philistines--calamity the first; there hath
been a great slaughter among the people--calamity the second; thy two
sons, Hophni and Phinehas, are slain--calamity the third; and last, and
most terrible of all, the ark of God is taken! The ark of God is taken!
The Divine symbol, with its overshadowing cherubim and its sacred light,
into which year by year Eli had gone alone to sprinkle the blood of
atonement on the mercy-seat, and where he had solemnly transacted with
God on behalf of the people, was in an enemy's hands! The ark, that no
Canaanite or Amalekite had ever touched, on which no Midianite or
Ammonite had ever laid his polluted finger, which had remained safe and
sure in Israel's custody through all the perils of their journeys and
all the storms of battle, was now torn from their grasp! And there
perishes with it all the hope of Israel, and all the sacred service
which was associated with it; and Israel is a widowed, desolate, godless
people, without hope and without God in the world; and all this has come
because they dragged it away from its place, and these two sons of mine,
now gone to their account, encouraged the profanation!

"And it came to pass, when he made mention of the ark of God, that he
fell from off the seat backward by the side of the gate, and his neck
brake, and he died; for he was an old man and heavy. And he had judged
Israel forty years."

This was calamity the fifth; but even yet the list was not exhausted.
"His daughter-in-law, Phinehas' wife, was with child, near to be
delivered; and when she heard the tidings that the ark of God was taken,
and that her father-in-law and her husband were dead, she bowed herself
and travailed, for her pains came upon her. And about the time of her
death the women that stood by her said unto her, Fear not, for thou hast
born a son. But she answered not, neither did she regard it. And she
named the child Ichabod, saying, The glory is departed from Israel;
because the ark of God was taken, and because of her father-in-law and
her husband. And she said, The glory is departed from Israel; for the
ark of God is taken."

Poor, good woman! with such a husband she had no doubt had a troubled
life. The spring of her spirit had probably been broken long ago; and
what little of elasticity yet remained was all too little to bear up
under such an overwhelming load. But it may have been her comfort to
live so near to the house of God as she did, and to be thus reminded of
Him who had commanded the sons of Aaron to bless the people saying, "The
Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make His face shine upon thee
and be gracious to thee; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and
give thee peace." But now the ark of God is taken, its services are at
an end, and the blessing is gone. The tribes may come up to the feasts
as before, but not with the bright eye or the merry shouts of former
days; the bullock may smoke on the altar, but where is the sanctuary in
which Jehovah dwelt, and where the mercy-seat for the priest to sprinkle
the blood, and where the door by which he can come out to bless the
people? Oh, my hapless child, what shall I call thee, who hast been
ushered on this day of midnight gloom into a God-forsaken and
dishonoured place? I will call thee Ichabod, for the glory is departed.
The glory is departed from Israel, for the ark of God is taken.

What an awful impression these scenes convey to us of the overpowering
desolation that comes to believing souls with the feeling that God has
taken His departure. Tell us that the sun is no longer to shine; tell us
that neither dew nor rain shall ever fall again to refresh the earth;
tell us that a cruel and savage nation is to reign unchecked and
unchallenged over all the families of a people once free and happy; you
convey no such image of desolation as when you tell to pious hearts that
God has departed from their community. Let us learn the obvious lesson,
to do nothing to provoke such a calamity. It is only when resisted and
dishonoured that the Spirit of God departs--only when He is driven away.
Oh, beware of everything that grieves Him--everything that interferes
with His gracious action on your souls. Beware of all that would lead
God to say, "I will go and return to My place, till they acknowledge
their offence and seek My face." Let our prayer be the cry of
David:--"Cast me not away from Thy presence, and take not Thy Holy
Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation, and uphold me
with Thy free Spirit."



CHAPTER VII.

_THE ARK AMONG THE PHILISTINES._

1 SAMUEL v., vi.


Although the history in Samuel is silent as to the doings of the
Philistines immediately after their great victory over Israel, yet we
learn from other parts of the Bible (Psalm lxxviii. 60-64; Jeremiah vii.
12, xxvi. 9) that they proceeded to Shiloh, massacred the priests,
wrecked the city, and left it a monument of desolation, as it continued
to be ever after. Probably this was considered an appropriate sequel to
the capture of the ark--a fitting mode of completing and commemorating
their victory over the national God of the Hebrews. For we may well
believe that it was this unprecedented feature of their success that was
uppermost in the Philistines' mind. The prevalent idea among the
surrounding nations regarding the God of the Hebrews was that He was a
God of exceeding power. The wonders done by Him in Egypt still filled
the popular imagination (ch. vi. 6); the strong hand and the
outstretched arm with which He had driven out the seven nations of
Canaan and prepared the way for His people were not forgotten. Neither
in more recent conflicts had any of the surrounding nations obtained the
slightest advantage over Him. It was in His name that Barak and Deborah
had defeated the Canaanites; it was the sword of the Lord and of Gideon
that had thrown such consternation into the hearts of the Midianites.
But now the tide was completely turned; not only had the Hebrew God
failed to protect His people, but ruin had come on both Him and them,
and His very sanctuary was in Philistine hands. No wonder the
Philistines were marvellously elated. Let us sweep from the face of the
earth every trace and memorial of His worship, was their cry. Let us
inflict such humiliation on the spot sacred to His name that never again
shall His worshippers be able to regain their courage and lift up their
heads, and neither we nor our children shall tremble any more at the
mention of His terrible deeds.

We have not one word about Samuel in connection with all this. The news
from the battlefield, followed by the death of Eli and of the wife of
Phinehas, must have been a terrible blow to him. But besides being calm
of nature (as his bearing showed after he got the message about Eli's
house), he was habitually in fellowship with God, and in this habit
enjoyed a great help towards self-possession and promptitude of action
in sudden emergencies and perplexities. That the ill-advised scheme for
carrying the ark into battle implied any real humiliation of the God of
Israel, or would have any evil effect on the covenant sworn to Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob, he could not for a moment suppose. But the confusion
and trouble that would arise, especially if the Philistines advanced
upon Shiloh, was a very serious consideration. There was much left at
Shiloh which needed to be cared for. There were sacred vessels, and
possibly national records, which must not be allowed to fall into the
hands of the enemy. By what means Samuel was able to secure the safety
of these; by what means he secured his own personal safety when "the
priests fell by the sword" (Psalm lxxviii. 64), we cannot say. But the
Lord was with Samuel, and even in this hour of national horror He
directed his proceedings, and established upon him the work of his
hands.

The fact to which we have drawn attention, that it was over the God of
Israel that the Philistines had triumphed, is the key to the
transactions recorded so minutely in the fifth and sixth chapters. The
great object of these chapters is to show how God undeceived the
Philistines on this all-important point. He undeceived them in a very
quiet, undemonstrative manner. On certain occasions God impresses men by
His great agencies,--by fire and earthquake and tempest, by "stormy wind
fulfilling His word." But these are not needed on this occasion.
Agencies much less striking will do the work. God will recover His name
and fame among the nations by much humbler forces. By the most trifling
exertion of His power, these Philistines will be brought to their wit's
end, and all the wisdom of their wisest men and all the craft of their
most cunning priests will be needed to devise some propitiation for One
who is infinitely too strong for them, and to prevent their country from
being brought to ruin by the silent working of His resistless power.

1. First of all, the ark is carried to Ashdod, where stood the great
temple of their God, Dagon. It is placed within the precincts of the
temple, in some place of subordination, doubtless, to the place of the
idol. Perhaps the expectation of the Philistines was that in the
exercise of his supernatural might their god would bring about the
mutilation or destruction of the Hebrew symbol. The morning showed
another sight. It was Dagon that was humiliated before the ark--fallen
to the ground upon his face. Next day a worse humiliation had befallen
him. Besides having fallen, his head and hands were severed from the
image, and only the stump remained. And besides this, the people were
suffering extensively from a painful disease, emerods or hemorrhoids,
and this too was ascribed to the influence of the God of the Hebrews.
The people of Ashdod had no desire to prolong the contest. They gathered
the lords of the Philistines and asked what was to be done. The lords
probably concluded that it was a case of mere local ill-luck. But what
had happened at Ashdod would not happen elsewhere. Let the ark be
carried to Gath.

2. To Gath, accordingly, the ark is brought. But no sooner is it there
than the disease that had broken out at Ashdod falls upon the Gittites,
and the mortality is terrible. The people of Gath are in too great haste
to call again on the lords of the Philistines to say what is to be done.
They simply carry the ark to Ekron.

3. And little welcome it gets from the Ekronites. It is now recognised
as the symbol of an angry God, whose power to punish and to destroy is
unlimited. The Ekronites are indignant at the people of Gath. "They have
brought about the ark of the God of Israel to us, to slay us and our
people." The destruction at Ekron seems to have been more awful than at
the other places--"The cry of the city went up to heaven." The lords of
the Philistines are again convened, to deliberate over the failure of
their last advice. There is no use trying any other place in the
country. The idea of local ill-luck is preposterous. Let it go again to
its own place! is the cry. Alas that we have destroyed Shiloh, for where
can we send it now? We can risk no further mistakes. Let us convene the
priests and the diviners to determine how it is to be got quit of, and
with what gifts or offerings it is to be accompanied. Would only we had
never touched it!

The priests and the diviners give a full answer on all the points
submitted to them. First, the ark when sent away must contain an
offering, in order to propitiate the Hebrew God for the insults heaped
on Him. The offering was to be in the form of golden emerods and golden
mice. It would appear that in addition to the disease that had broken
out on the bodies of the people they had had in their fields the plague
of mice. These field-mice bred with amazing rapidity, and sometimes
consumed the whole produce of the field. There is a slight difficulty
about numbers here. There are to be five golden emerods and five golden
mice, according to the number of the lords of the Philistines (vi. 3);
but it is said after (ver. 18) that the number of the golden mice was
according to the number of all the cities of the Philistines belonging
to the five lords, both of fenced cities and country villages. It is
surmised, however, that (as in the Septuagint) the number _five_ should
not be repeated in the middle of the first passage (vi. 4, 5), but that
it should run, "five golden emerods, according to the number of the
lords of the Philistines, and golden mice, images of the mice that
destroy the land." The idea of presenting offerings to the gods
corresponding with the object in connection with which they were
presented was often given effect to by heathen nations. "Those saved
from shipwreck offered pictures of the shipwreck, or of the clothes
which they had on at the time, in the Temple of Isis; slaves and
captives, in gratitude for the recovery of their liberty, offered chains
to the Lares; retired gladiators, their arms to Hercules; and in the
fifth century a custom prevailed among Christians of offering in their
churches gold or silver hands, feet, eyes, etc., in return for cures
effected in those members respectively in answer to prayer. This was
probably a heathen custom transferred into the Christian Church; for a
similar usage is still found among the heathen in India" (_Speaker's
Commentary_).

4. Next, as to the manner in which the ark was to be sent away. A new
cart was to be made, and two milch cows which had never been in harness
before were to be fastened to the cart. This was to be out of respect to
the God of Israel; new things were counted more honourable, as our Lord
rode on a colt "whereon never man had yet sat," and His body was laid in
a new sepulchre. The cows were to be left without guidance to determine
their path; if they took the road to Judea, the road up the valley to
Bethshemesh, that would be a token that all their trouble had come from
the God of the Hebrews; but if they took any other road, the road to any
place in the Philistine country, that would prove that there had only
been a coincidence, and no relation of cause and effect between the
capture of the ark and the evils that had befallen them. It was the
principle of the lot applied to determine a grave moral question. It was
a method which, in the absence of better light, men were ready enough to
resort to in those times, and which on one memorable occasion was
resorted to in the early Christian Church (Acts i.). The much fuller
light which God has given men on moral and religious questions greatly
restricts, if it does not indeed abolish, the lawful occasions of
resorting to such a method. If it be ever lawful, it can only be so in
the exercise of a devout and solemn spirit, for the apostles did not
make use of it by itself, but only after earnest prayer that God would
make the lot the instrument of making known His will.

At last the ark leaves the land of the Philistines. For seven terrible
months it had spread among them anxiety, terror, and death. Nothing but
utter ruin seemed likely to spring from a longer residence of the ark in
their territories. Glad were they to get rid of it, golden emerods,
golden mice, new cart, milch kine, and all. We are reminded of a scene
in Gospel history, that took place at Gadara after the devils drove the
herd of swine over the cliff into the lake. The people of the place
besought Jesus to depart out of their coasts. It is a solemn truth that
there are aspects of God's character, aspects of the Saviour's
character, in which He is only a terror and a trouble. These are the
aspects in which God is seen opposed to what men love and prize, tearing
their treasures away from them, or tearing them away from their
treasures. It is an awful thing to know God in these aspects alone. Yet
it is the aspect in which God usually appears to the sinner. It is the
aspect in which our consciences present Him when we are conscious of
having incurred His displeasure. And while man remains a sinner and in
love with his sin, he may try to disguise the solemn fact to his own
mind, but it is nevertheless true that his secret desire is to get rid
of God. As the apostle puts it, he does not like to retain God in his
knowledge (Rom. i. 28). He says to God, "Depart from us, for we desire
not the knowledge of Thy ways" (Job xxi. 14). Nay, he goes a step
further--"The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God" (Ps. xiv.
1). Where he still makes some acknowledgment of Him, he may try to
propitiate Him by offerings, and to make up for the transgressions he
commits in some things by acts of will-worship, or voluntary humiliation
in other things. But alas! of how large a portion even of men in
Christian lands is it true that they do not love God. Their hearts have
no yearning for Him. The thought of Him is a disturbing, uncomfortable
element. Heart communion with Him is a difficulty not to be overcome.
Forms of worship that leave the heart unexercised are a great relief.
Worship _performed_ by choirs and instruments and æsthetic rules comes
welcome as a substitute for the intercourse and homage of the soul.
Could anything demonstrate more clearly the need of a great spiritual
change? What but the vision of God in Christ reconciling the world to
Himself can effect it? And even the glorious truths of redemption are
not in themselves efficacious. The seed needs to fall on good soil. He
that commanded the light to shine out of darkness must shine in our
minds to give the light of the glory of God in the face of His Anointed.
But surely it is a great step towards this change to feel the need of
it. The heart that is honest with God, and that says, "O God Almighty, I
do not love Thee, I am not happy in Thy presence, I like life better
without Thee; but I am convinced that this is a most wretched condition,
and most sinful. Wilt Thou, in infinite mercy, have compassion on me?
Wilt Thou so change me that I may come to love Thee, to love Thy
company, to welcome the thought of Thee, and to worship Thee in spirit
and in truth?"--such a heart, expressing itself thus, will surely not be
forsaken. How long it may be ere its quest is granted we cannot tell;
but surely the day wall come when the new song shall be put in its
mouth--"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits. Who
forgiveth all thine iniquities, who healeth all thy diseases; who
redeemeth thy life from destruction, who crowneth thee with
loving-kindness and tender mercies; who satisfieth thy mouth with good
things, so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's."

5. And now the ark has reached Bethshemesh, in the tribe of Judah. The
lords of the Philistines have followed it, watching it, as Miriam
watched her infant brother on the Nile, to see what would become of it.
Nor do they turn back till they have seen the men of Bethshemesh welcome
it, till they have seen the Levites take it down from the cart, till
they have seen the cart cleft, and the cows offered as a trespass
offering, and till they have seen their own golden jewels, along with
the burnt-offerings and sacrifices of the people of Bethshemesh,
presented in due form to the Lord.

Thus far all goes well at Bethshemesh. The ark is on Hebrew soil. The
people there have no fear either of the emerods or of the mice that so
terribly distressed their Philistine neighbours. After a time of great
depression the sun is beginning to smile on Israel again. The men of
Bethshemesh are reaping their barley-harvest--that is one mercy from
God. And here most unexpectedly appears the sight that of all possible
sights was the most welcome to their eyes; here, unhurt and unrifled, is
the ark of the covenant that had been given up for lost, despaired of
probably, even by its most ardent friends. How could Israel hope to gain
possession of that apparently insignificant box except by an invasion of
the Philistines in overwhelming force--in such force as a nation that
had but lately lost thirty thousand men was not able to command? And
even if such an overwhelming expedition were to be arranged, how easy
would it not be for the Philistines to burn the ark, and thus annihilate
the very thing to recover which the war was undertaken? Yet here is the
ark back without the intervention of a single soldier. No ransom has
been given for it, no blow struck, nothing promised, nothing threatened.
Here it comes, as if unseen angels had fetched it, with its precious
treasures and still more precious memories just as before! It was like a
foreshadow of the return from the captivity--an experience that might
have found expression in the words, "When the Lord turned again the
captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream."

Happy men of Bethshemesh, for whom God prepared so delightful a
surprise. Truly He is able to do in us exceeding abundantly above all
that we ask or think. How unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways
past finding out! Never let us despair of God, or of any cause with
which He is identified. "Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him;"
"The Lord bringeth the counsel of the heathen to nought; He maketh the
devices of the people of none effect. The counsel of the Lord standeth
for ever, and the thoughts of His heart to all generations."

But alas! the men of Bethshemesh did not act according to the benefit
received. Their curiosity prevailed above their reverence: they looked
into the ark of the Lord. As if the sacred vessel had not had enough of
indignity in the din of battle, in the temples of the uncircumcised
Philistines, and in the cart drawn by the kine, they must expose it to a
yet further profanation! Alas for them! their curiosity prevailed over
their reverence. And for this they had to pay a terrible penalty. "The
Lord smote of the men of Bethshemesh fifty thousand and three score and
ten men." It is the general opinion, however, that an error has slipped
into the text that makes the deaths amount to fifty thousand threescore
and ten. Bethshemesh was never more than a village or little town, and
could not have had anything like so great a population. Probably the
threescore and ten, without the fifty thousand, is all that was
originally in the text. Even that would be "a great slaughter" in the
population of a little town. It was a very sad thing that an event so
joyous should be clouded by such a judgment. But how often are times and
scenes which God has made very bright marred by the folly and
recklessness of men!

The prying men of Bethshemesh have had their counterparts many a time in
more recent days. Many men, with strong theological proclivities, have
evinced a strong desire to pry into the "secret things which belong to
the Lord our God." Foreknowledge, election, free will, sin's
punishment--men have often forgot that there is much in such subjects
that exceeds the capacity of the human mind, and that as God has shown
reserve in what He has revealed about them, so men ought to show a holy
modesty in their manner of treating them. And even in the handling of
sacred things generally, in the way of theological discussion, a want of
reverence has very often been shown. It becomes us all most carefully to
beware of abusing the gracious condescension which God has shown in His
revelation, and in the use which He designs us to make of it. It was an
excellent rule a foreign theologian laid down for himself, to keep up
the spirit of reverence--never to speak of God without speaking to God.

God has drawn very near to us in Christ, and given to all that accept of
Him the place and privileges of children. He allows us to come very
near to Him in prayer. "In everything," He says, "by prayer and
supplication with thanksgiving make your requests known unto God." But
while we gratefully accept these privileges, and while in the enjoyment
of them we become very intimate with God, never let us forget the
infinite distance between us, and the infinite condescension manifested
in His allowing us to enter into the holiest of all. Never let us forget
that in His sight we are "as dust and ashes," unworthy to lift up our
eyes to the place where His honour dwelleth. To combine reverence and
intimacy in our dealings with God,--the profoundest reverence with the
closest intimacy, is to realise the highest ideal of worship. God
Himself would have us remember, in our approaches to Him, that He is in
heaven and we on the earth. "Thus saith the High and Lofty One that
inhabiteth Eternity and whose name is holy, I dwell in the high and holy
place, but with him also who is of a contrite and humble spirit, to
revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the hearts of the
contrite ones."



CHAPTER VIII.

_REPENTANCE AND REVIVAL._

1 SAMUEL vii. 1-9.


With the men of Bethshemesh the presence of the ark had become the same
terror as it had been successively at Ashdod, Gath, and Ekron. Instead
of the savour of life to life, it had proved a savour of death to death.
Instead of a chief cornerstone, elect, precious, it had become a stone
of stumbling and a rock of offence. They sent therefore to their
neighbours at Kirjath-jearim, and begged them to come down and remove
the ark. This they readily did. More timid men might have said, The ark
has brought nothing but disaster in its train; we will have nothing to
do with it. There was faith and loyalty to God shown in their readiness
to give accommodation to it within their bounds. Deeming a high place to
be the kind of situation where it should rest, they selected the house
of Abinadab in the hill, he being probably a Levite. To keep the ark
they set apart his son Eleazar, whose name seems to indicate that he was
of the house of Aaron. They seem to have done all they could, and with
due regard to the requirements of the law, for the custody of the sacred
symbol. But Kirjath-jearim was not turned into the seat of the national
worship. There is no word of sacrificial or other services being
performed there. There is nothing to indicate that the annual feasts
were held at this place. The ark had a resting-place there--nothing
more.

And this lasted for twenty years. It was a long and dreary time. A rude
shock had been given to the sacred customs of the people, and the comely
order of the Divine service among them. The ark and the other sacred
vessels were separated from each other. If, as seems likely (1 Sam.
xxi.), the daily offerings and other sacred services ordained by Moses
were offered at this time at Nob, a sense of imperfection could not but
belong to them, for the ark of the covenant was not there.
Incompleteness would attach to any public rites that might now be
celebrated. The service of Baal and Ashtaroth would have a less powerful
rival than when the service of Jehovah was conducted in all due form and
regularity at Shiloh. During these years the nation seems to have been
somewhat listless on the subject, and to have made no effort to remove
the ark to a more suitable place. Kirjath-jearim was not in the centre,
but on the very edge of the country, looking down into the territory of
the Philistines, not far from the very cities where the ark had been in
captivity, a constant reminder to the Israelites of its degradation.
That Samuel was profoundly concerned about all this we cannot doubt. But
he seems to have made no effort to remedy it, most probably because he
knew it to be God's order first to make the people sensible of their
wickedness, and only thereafter to restore to them free access to
Himself.

What then was Samuel doing during the twenty years that the ark was at
Kirjath-jearim? We can answer that question only conjecturally, only
from what we know of his general character. It cannot be doubted that
in some way or other he was trying to make the nation sensible of their
sins against God; to show them that it was to these sins that their
subjection to the Philistines was due; and to urge them to abandon their
idolatrous practices if they desired a return to independence and peace.
Perhaps he began at this period to move about from place to place,
urging those views, as he moved about afterwards when he held the office
of Judge (vii. 16). And perhaps he was laying the foundations of those
schools of the prophets that afterwards were associated with his name.
Whenever he found young men disposed to his views he would doubtless
cultivate their acquaintance, and urge them to steadfastness and
progress in the way of the Lord. There is nothing said to indicate that
Samuel was connected with the priestly establishment at Nob.

There are two great services for God and for Israel in which we find
Samuel engaged in the first nine verses of this chapter: 1. In exhorting
and directing them with a view to bring them into a right state before
God. 2. This being accomplished, in praying for them in their time of
trouble, and obtaining Divine help when the Philistines drew near in
battle.

1. In the course of time the people appear to have come to feel how sad
and desolate their national life was without any tokens of God's
presence and grace. "All the house of Israel lamented after the Lord."
The expression is a peculiar one, and some critics, not understanding
its spiritual import, have proposed to give it a different meaning. But
for this there is no cause. It seems to denote that the people, missing
God, under the severe oppression of the Philistines, had begun to grieve
over the sins that had driven Him away, and to long after Him, to long
for His return. These symptoms of repentance, however, had not shown
themselves in a very definite or practical form. Samuel was not
satisfied with the amount of earnestness evinced as yet. He must have
more decided evidence of sincerity and repentance. He insisted on it
that they must "put away the strange gods and Ashtaroth from among them,
and prepare their hearts unto the Lord and serve Him only."

Now the putting away of the strange gods and Ashtaroth was a harder
condition than we at first should suppose. Some are inclined to fancy
that it was a mere senseless and ridiculous obstinacy that drew the
Israelites so much to the worship of the idolatrous gods of their
neighbours. In reality the temptation was of a much more subtle kind.
Their religious worship as prescribed by Moses had little to attract the
natural feelings of the human heart. It was simple, it was severe, it
was self-denying. The worship of the pagan nations was more lively and
attractive. Fashionable entertainments and free-and-easy revelries were
superadded to please the carnal mind. Between Hebrew and heathen
worship, there was something of the contrast that you find between the
severe simplicity of a Puritan meeting and the gorgeous and fashionable
splendour of a great Romish ceremonial. To put away Baalim and Ashtaroth
was to abjure what was fashionable and agreeable, and fall back on what
was unattractive and sombre. Was it not, too, an illiberal demand? Was
it not a sign of narrowness to be so exclusively devoted to their own
religion that they could view that of their neighbours with no sort of
pleasure? Why not acknowledge that in other religions there was an
element of good, that the services in them were the expression of a
profound religious sentiment, and were therefore entitled to a measure
of praise and approval? It is very certain that with this favourite view
of modern liberalism neither Samuel nor any of the prophets had the
slightest sympathy. No. If the people were in earnest now, they must
show it by putting away every image and every object and ornament that
was connected with the worship of other gods. Jehovah would have their
homage on no other terms. If they chose to divide it between Him and
other gods, they might call on them for help and blessing; for it was
most certain that the God of Israel would receive no worship that was
not rendered to Him alone.

But the people were in earnest; and this first demand of Samuel was
complied with. We are to remember that the people of Israel, in their
typical significance, stand for those who are by grace in covenant with
God, and that their times of degeneracy represent, in the case of
Christians, seasons of spiritual backsliding, when the things of this
world are too keenly sought, when the fellowship of the world is
habitually resorted to, when the soul loses its spiritual appetite, and
religious services become formal and cold. Does there begin to dawn on
such a soul a sense of spiritual poverty and loneliness? Does the spirit
of the hymn begin to breathe from it--

    "Return, O holy Dove, return,
      Sweet Messenger of rest!
    I hate the sins that made Thee mourn
      And drove Thee from my breast."

Then the first steps towards revival and communion must be the forsaking
of these sins, and of ways of life that prepare the way for them. The
sorrow for sin that is working in the conscience is the work of the Holy
Ghost; and if the Holy Ghost be resisted in this His first operation--if
the sins, or ways toward sin, against which He has given His warning be
persisted in, the Spirit is grieved and His work is stopped. The Spirit
calls us to set our hearts against these sins, and "prepare them unto
the Lord."

Let us mark carefully this last expression. It is not enough that in
church, or at some meeting, or in our closet, we experience a painful
conviction how much we have offended God, and a desire not to offend Him
in like manner any more. We must "prepare our hearts" for this end. We
must remember that in the world with which we mingle we are exposed to
many influences that remove God from our thoughts, that stimulate our
infirmities, that give force to temptation, that lessen our power of
resistance, that tend to draw us back into our old sins. One who has a
tendency to intemperance may have a sincere conviction that his acts of
drunkenness have displeased God, and a sincere wish never to be drunk
again. But besides this he must "prepare his heart" against his sin. He
must resolve to turn away from everything that leads to drinking, that
gives strength to the temptation, that weakens his power of resistance,
that draws him, as it were, within the vortex. He must fortify himself,
by joining a society or otherwise, against the insidious approaches of
the vice. And in regard to all that displeases God he must order his
life so that it shall be abandoned, it shall be parted with for ever.
You may say this is asking him to do more than he can do. No doubt it
is. But is not the Holy Spirit working in him? Is it not the Holy Spirit
that is urging him to do these things? Whoever is urged by the Holy
Spirit may surely rely on the power of the Spirit when he endeavours to
comply with His suggestions. When God works in us to will and to do of
His good pleasure, we may surely work out our own salvation with fear
and trembling.

Having found the people so far obedient to his requirements, Samuel's
next step was to call an assembly of all Israel to Mizpeh. He desired to
unite all who were like-minded in a purpose of repentance and
reformation, and to rouse them to a higher pitch of intensity by contact
with a great multitude animated by the same spirit. When the assembly
met, it was in a most proper spirit. They began the proceedings by
drawing water and pouring it out before the Lord, and by fasting. These
two acts being joined in the narrative, it is probable they were acts of
the same character. Now as fasting was evidently an expression of
contrition, so the pouring out of the water must have been so too. It is
necessary to remark this, because an expression not unlike to our text,
in Isa. xii., denotes an act of a joyful character, "With joy shall ye
draw water out of the wells of salvation." But what was done on this
occasion was to draw water and _pour it out before the Lord_. And this
seems to have been done as a symbol of pouring out before God
confessions of sin drawn from the depths of the heart. What they said in
connection with these acts was, "We have sinned against the Lord." They
were no longer in the mood in which the Psalmist was when he kept
silence, and his bones waxed old through his roaring all the day. They
were in the mood into which he came when he said, "I will confess my
transgressions to the Lord." They humbled themselves before God in deep
convictions of their unworthiness, and being thus emptied of self they
were in a better state to receive the gracious visitation of love and
mercy.

It is important to mark the stress which is laid here on the _public
assembly_ of the people. Some might say would it not have answered the
same end if the people had humbled themselves apart--the family of the
house of Levi apart, and their wives apart, every family apart, and
their wives apart, as in the great mourning of Zechariah (Zech. xii.
12-14)? We answer, the one way did not exclude the other; we do not need
to ask which is best, for both are best. But when Samuel convened the
people to a public assembly, he evidently did it on the principle on
which in the New Testament we are required not to forsake the assembling
of ourselves together. It is in order that the presence of people
like-minded, and with the same earnest feelings and purposes, may have a
rousing and warming influence upon us. No doubt there are other purposes
connected with public worship. We need constant instruction and constant
reminding of the will of God. But the public assembly and the social
prayer-meeting are intended to have another effect. They are intended to
increase our spiritual earnestness by the sight and presence of so many
persons in earnest. Alas! what a difference there often is between the
ideal and the real. Those cold and passionless meetings that our
churches and halls often present--how little are they fitted, by the
earnestness and warmth of their tone, to give those who attend them a
great impulse heavenward! Never let us be satisfied with our public
religious services until they are manifestly adapted to this great end.

Thus did Samuel seek to promote repentance and revival among his people,
and to prepare the way for a return of God's favour. And it is in this
very way that if we would have a revival of earnest religion, we must
set about obtaining it.

2. The next scene in the panorama of the text is--the Philistines
invading Israel. Here Samuel's service is that of an intercessor,
praying for his people, and obtaining God's blessing. It is to be
observed that the alleged occasion for this event is said to have been
the meeting held at Mizpeh. "When the Philistines heard that the
children of Israel were gathered together to Mizpeh, the lords of the
Philistines went up against Israel." Was not this most strange and
distressing? The blessed assembly which Samuel had convened only gives
occasion for a new Philistine invasion! Trying to do his people good,
Samuel would appear only to have done them harm. With the assembly at
Mizpeh, called as it was for spiritual ends, the Philistines could have
no real cause for complaint. Either they mistook its purpose and thought
it a meeting to devise measures to throw off their yoke, or they had an
instinctive apprehension that the spirit which the people of Israel were
now showing would be accompanied by some remarkable interposition on
their behalf. It is not rare for steps taken with the best of intentions
to become for a time the occasion of a great increase of evil,--just as
the remonstrances of Moses with Pharaoh led at first to the increase of
the people's burdens; or just as the coming of Christ into the world
caused the massacre of the babes of Bethlehem. So here, the first public
step taken by Samuel for the people's welfare was the occasion of an
alarming invasion by their cruel enemies. But God's word on such
occasions is, "Be still and know that I am God." Such events are
suffered only to stimulate faith and patience. They are not so very
overwhelming events to those who know that God is with them, and that
"none of them that trust in Him shall be desolate." Though the
Israelites at this time were not far advanced in spiritual life, they
betrayed no consternation when they heard of the invasion of the
Philistines. They knew where their help was to be found, and recognizing
Samuel as their mediator, they said to him, "Cease not to cry unto the
Lord our God for us, that He will save us out of the hand of the
Philistines."

With this request Samuel most readily complies. But first he offers a
sucking lamb as a whole burnt-offering to the Lord, and only after this
are we told that "Samuel cried unto the Lord, and the Lord heard him."

The lesson is supremely important. When sinners approach God to entreat
His favour, it must be by the new and living way, sprinkled with atoning
blood. All other ways of access will fail. How often has this been
exemplified in the history of the Church! How many anxious sinners have
sought unto God by other ways, but have been driven back, sometimes
farther from Him than before. Luther humbles himself in the dust and
implores God's favour, and struggles with might and main to reform his
heart; but Luther cannot find peace until he sees how it is in the
righteousness of another he is to draw nigh and find the blessing,--in
the righteousness of the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the
world. Dr. Chalmers, profoundly impressed with the sinfulness of his
past life, strives, with the energy of a giant, to attain conformity to
the will of God; but he too is only tossed about in weary
disappointment until he finds rest in the atoning mercy of God in
Christ. We may be well assured that no sense of peace can come into the
guilty soul till it accepts Jesus Christ as its Saviour in all the
fulness of His saving power.

Another lesson comes to us from Samuel's intercession. It is well to try
to get God's servants to pray for us. But little real progress can be
made till we can pray for ourselves. Whoever really desires to enjoy
God's favour, be it for the first time after he has come to the sense of
his sins; or be it at other times, after God's face has been hid from
him for a time through his backsliding, can never come as he ought to
come without earnest prayer. For prayer is the great medium that God has
appointed to us for communion with Himself. "Ask and ye shall receive,
seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened to you." If there
be any lesson written with a sunbeam alike in the Old Testament and in
the New, it is that God is the Hearer of prayer. Only let us take heed
to the quality and tone of our prayer. Before God can listen to it, it
must be from the heart. To gabble over a form of prayer is not to pray.
Saul of Tarsus had said many a prayer before his conversion; but after
that for the first time it was said of him, "Behold, he prayeth." To
pray is to ask an interview with God, and when we are alone with Him, to
unburden our souls to Him. Those only who have learned to pray thus in
secret can pray to any purpose in the public assembly. It is in this
spirit, surely, that the highest gifts of Divine grace are to be sought.
Emphatically it is in this way that we are to pray for our nation or for
our Church. Let us come with large and glowing hearts when we come to
pray for a whole community. Let us plead with God for Church and for
nation in the very spirit of the prophet: "For Zion's sake I will not
hold my peace, and for Jerusalem's sake I will not rest, until the
righteousness thereof go forth as brightness, and the salvation thereof
as a lamp that burneth."



CHAPTER IX.

_NATIONAL DELIVERANCE--THE PHILISTINES SUBDUED._

1 SAMUEL vii. 10-17.


It must have been with feelings very different from those of their last
encounter, when the ark of God was carried into the battle, that the
host of Israel now faced the Philistine army near Mizpeh. Then they had
only the symbol of God's gracious presence, now they had the reality.
Then their spiritual guides were the wicked Hophni and Phinehas; now
their guide was holy Samuel. Then they had rushed into the fight in
thoughtless unconcern about their sins; now they had confessed them, and
through the blood of sprinkling they had obtained a sense of
forgiveness. Then they were puffed up by a vain presumption; now they
were animated by a calm but confident hope. Then their advance was
hallowed by no prayer; now the cry of needy children had gone up from
God's faithful servant. In fact, the battle with the Philistines had
already been fought by Samuel on his knees. There can be no more sure
token of success than this. Are we engaged in conflict with our own
besetting sins? Or are we contending against scandalous transgression in
the world around us? Let us first fight the battle on our knees. If we
are victorious there we need have little fear of victory in the other
battle.

It was as Samuel was offering up the burnt-offering that the Philistines
drew near to battle against Israel. There was an unseen ladder that day
between earth and heaven, on which the angels of God ascended and
descended as in Jacob's vision at Bethel. The smoke of the
burnt-offering carried up to God the confession and contrition of the
people, their reliance on God's method of atonement, and their prayer
for His pardon and His blessing. The great thunder with which God
thundered on the Philistines carried down from God the answer and the
needed help. There is no need for supposing that the thunder was
supernatural. It was an instance of what is so common, a natural force
adapted to the purpose of an answer to prayer. What seems to have
occurred is this: a vehement thunderstorm had gathered a little to the
east, and now broke, probably with violent wind, in the faces of the
Philistines, who were advancing up the heights against Mizpeh. Unable to
face such a terrific war of the elements, the Philistines would turn
round, placing their backs to the storm. The men of Israel, but little
embarrassed by it, since it came from behind them, and gave the greater
momentum to their force, rushed on the embarrassed enemy, and drove them
before them like smoke before the wind. It was just as in former
days--God arose, and His enemies were scattered, and they also that
hated Him fled before Him. The storm before which the Philistines
cowered was like the pillar of fire which had guided Israel through the
desert. Jehovah was still the God of Israel; the God of Jacob was once
more his refuge.

We have said that this thunderstorm may have been quite a natural
phenomenon. Natural, but not casual. Though natural, it was God's answer
to Samuel's prayer. But how could this have been? If it was a natural
storm, if it was the result of natural law, of atmospheric conditions
the operation of which was fixed and certain, it must have taken place
whether Samuel prayed or not. Undoubtedly. But the very fact that the
laws of nature are fixed and certain, that their operation is definite
and regular, enables the great Lord of Providence to make use of them in
the natural course of things, for the purpose of answering prayer. For
this fact, the uniformity of natural law, enables the Almighty, who sees
and plans the end from the beginning, to frame a comprehensive scheme of
Providence, that shall not only work out the final result in His time
and way, but that shall also work out every intermediate result
precisely as He designs and desires. "Known unto God are all His works
from the beginning of the world." Now if God has so adjusted the scheme
of Providence that the final result of the whole shall wonderfully
accomplish His grand design, may He not, must He not, have so adjusted
it that every intermediate part shall work out some intermediate design?
It is only those who have an unworthy conception of omniscience and
omnipotence that can doubt this. Surely if there is a general
Providence, there must be a special Providence. If God guides the whole,
He must also guide the parts. Every part of the scheme must fall out
according to His plan, and may thus be the means of fulfilling some of
His promises.

Let us apply this view to the matter of prayer. All true prayer is the
fruit of the Holy Spirit working in the human soul. All the prayer that
God answers is prayer that God has inspired. The prayer of Samuel was
prayer which God had inspired. What more reasonable than that in the
great plan of providence there should have been included a provision for
the fulfilment of Samuel's prayer at the appropriate moment? The
thunderstorm, we may be sure, was a natural phenomenon. But its
occurrence at the time was part of that great scheme of Providence which
God planned at the beginning, and it was planned to fall out then in
order that it might serve as an answer to Samuel's prayer. It was thus
an answer to prayer brought about by natural causes. The only thing
miraculous about it was its forming a part of that most marvellous
scheme--the scheme of Divine providence--a part of the scheme that was
to be carried into effect after Samuel had prayed. If the term
supernatural may be fitly applied to that scheme which is the sum and
substance of all the laws of nature, of all the providence of God, and
of all the works and thoughts of man, then it was a miracle; but if not,
it was a natural effect.

It is important to bear these truths in mind, because many have the
impression that prayer for outward results cannot be answered without a
miracle, and that it is unreasonable to suppose that such a multitude of
miracles as prayer involves would be wrought every day. If a sick man
prays for health, is the answer necessarily a miracle? No; for the
answer may come about by purely natural causes. He has been directed to
a skilful physician; he has used the right medicine; he has been treated
in the way to give full scope to the recuperative power of nature. God,
who led him to pray, foresaw the prayer, and in the original scheme of
Providence planned that by natural causes the answer should come. We do
not deny that prayer may be answered in a supernatural way. We would
not affirm that such a thing as supernatural healing is unknown. But it
is most useful that the idea should be entertained that such prayer is
usually answered by natural means. By not attending to this men often
fail to perceive that prayer has been answered. You pray, before you set
out on a journey, for protection and safe arrival at the end. You get
what you asked--you perform the journey in safety. But perhaps you say,
"It would have been all the same whether I had prayed for it or not. I
have gone on journeys that I forgot to pray about, and no evil befell
me. Some of my fellow-passengers, I am sure, did not pray for safety,
yet they were taken care of as much as I was." But these are sophistical
arguments. You should feel that your safety in the journey about which
you prayed was as much due to God, though only through the operation of
natural causes, as if you had had a hairbreadth escape. You should be
thankful that in cases where you did not pray for safety God had regard
to the habitual set of your mind, your habitual trust in Him, though you
did not specially exercise it at these times. Let the means be as
natural as they may--to those who have eyes to see the finger of God is
in them all the same.

But to return to the Israelites and the Philistines. The defeat of the
Philistines was a very thorough one. Not only did they make no attempt
to rally after the storm had passed and Israel had fallen on them, but
they came no more into the coast of Israel, and the hand of the Lord was
against them all the days of Samuel. And besides this, all the cities
and tracts of land belonging to Israel which the Philistines had taken
were now restored. Another mercy that came to Israel was that "there was
peace between Israel and the Amorites"--the Amorites being put here,
most likely, for the remains of all the original inhabitants living
among or around Israel. Those promises were now fulfilled in which God
had said to Moses, "This day will I begin to put the dread of thee and
the fear of thee upon the nations that are under the whole heaven, who
shall hear report of thee, and shall tremble and be in anguish because
of thee" (Deut. ii. 25). "There shall no man be able to stand before
you; for the Lord your God shall lay the fear of you and the dread of
you upon all the land ye shall tread upon, as He hath said to thee." It
was so apparent that God was among them, and that the power of God was
irresistible and overwhelming, that their enemies were frightened to
assail them.

The impression thus made on the enemies of Israel corresponds in some
degree to the moral influence which God-fearing men sometimes have on an
otherwise godless community. The picture in the Song of Solomon--"Who is
she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the
sun, and _terrible as an army with banners_?"--ascribes even to the fair
young bride a terrifying power, a power not appropriate to such a
picture in the literal sense, but quite suitable in the figurative.
Wherever the life and character of a godly man is such as to recall God,
wherever God's image is plainly visible, wherever the results of God's
presence are plainly seen, there the idea of a supernatural Power is
conveyed, and a certain overawing influence is felt. In the great
awakening at Northampton in Jonathan Edwards' days, there was a complete
arrest laid on open forms of vice. And whensoever in a community God's
presence has been powerfully realized, the taverns have been emptied,
the gambling-table deserted, under the sense of His august majesty.
Would only that the character and life of all God's servants were so
truly godlike that their very presence in a community would have a
subduing and restraining influence on the wicked!

Two points yet remain to be noticed: the step taken by Samuel to
commemorate this wonderful Divine interposition; and the account given
of the prophet and his occupations in his capacity of Judge of Israel.

"Samuel took a stone, and set it between Mizpeh and Shen, and called the
name of it Ebenezer, saying, Hitherto hath the Lord helped us."

The position of Shen is not known. But it must have been very near the
scene of the defeat of the Philistines--perhaps it was the very spot
where that defeat occurred. In that case, Samuel's stone would stand
midway between the two scenes of battle: the battle gained by him on his
knees at Mizpeh, and the battle gained by the Israelites when they fell
on the Philistines demoralised by the thunderstorm.

"Hitherto hath the Lord helped us." The characteristic feature of the
inscription lies in the word "hitherto." It was no doubt a testimony to
special help obtained in that time of trouble; it was a grateful
recognition of that help; and it was an enduring monument to perpetuate
the memory of it. But it was more, much more. The word "hitherto"
denotes a series, a chain of similar mercies, an unbroken succession of
Divine interpositions and Divine deliverances. The special purpose of
this inscription was to link on the present deliverance to all the past,
and to form a testimony to the enduring faithfulness and mercy of a
covenant-keeping God. But was there not something strange in this
inscription, considering the circumstances? Could Samuel have forgot
that tragic day at Shiloh--the bewildered, terrified look of the
messenger that came from the army to bring the news, the consternation
caused by his message, the ghastly horror of Eli and his tragic death,
the touching death of the wife of Phinehas, and the sad name which she
had with such seeming propriety given to her babe? Was _that_ like God
remembering them? or had Samuel forgot how the victorious Philistines
soon after dashed upon Shiloh like beasts of prey, plundering,
destroying, massacreing, till nothing more remained to be done to
justify the name of "Ichabod"? How can Samuel blot that chapter out of
the history? or how can he say, with that chapter fresh in his
recollection, "_Hitherto_ hath the Lord helped us"?

All that Samuel has considered well. Even amid the desolations of Shiloh
the Lord was helping them. He was helping them to know themselves,
helping them to know their sins, and helping them to know the bitter
fruit and woful punishment of sin. He was helping them to achieve the
great end for which he had called them--to keep alive the knowledge of
the true God and the practice of His worship, onward to the time when
the great promise should be realised,--when HE should come in whom all
the families of the earth were to be blessed. Samuel's idea of what
constituted the nation's glory was large and spiritual. The true glory
of the nation was to fulfil the function for which God had taken it into
covenant with Himself. Whatever helped them to do this was a blessing,
was a token of the Lord's remembrance of them. The links of the long
chain denoted by Samuel's "hitherto" were not all of one kind. Some were
in the form of mercies, many were in the form of chastenings. For the
higher the function for which Israel was called, the more need was
there of chastening. The higher the destination of a silver vessel, the
greater is the need that the silver be pure, and therefore that it be
frequently passed through the furnace. The destination of Israel was the
highest that could have been. So Samuel does not merely give thanks for
seasons of prosperity, but for checks and chastenings too.

Happy they who, full of faith in the faithfulness and love of God, can
take a similar view of His dealings! Happy they who, when special
mercies come, deem the occasion worthy to be commemorated by some
special memorial, but who can embrace their whole life in the grateful
commemoration, and bracket joys and sorrows alike under their
"hitherto"! It is not that sorrows are less sorrows to them than to
others; it is not that losses of substance entail less inconvenience, or
bereavements penetrate less deeply; but that all are seen to be embraced
in that gracious plan of which the final consummation is, as the apostle
puts it, "to present her to Himself a glorious Church, not having spot
or wrinkle or any such thing." And well is it for us, both in individual
life and in Church and national life, to think of that plan of God in
which mercies and chastenings are united, but all with a gracious
purpose! It is remarkable how often in Scripture tears are wiped away
with this thought. Zion saying, "The Lord hath forsaken me, and my God
hath forgotten me," is assured, "Behold, I have graven thee upon the
palms of My hands, thy walls are continually before Me." Rachel weeping
for her children, and refusing to be comforted, is thus addressed,
"Refrain thy voice from weeping and thine eyes from tears; for thy work
shall be rewarded, saith the Lord, and thy children shall come again
from the land of the enemy." "Weep not," said our Lord to the woman of
Nain; and His first words after His resurrection were, "Woman, why
weepest thou?" Vale of tears though this world is, there comes from
above a gracious influence to wipe them away; and the march Zionward has
in it something of the tread and air of a triumphant procession, for
"the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with songs and
everlasting joy on their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and
sorrow and sighing shall flee away."

We have yet to notice the concluding verses of the chapter (15-17),
which give a little picture of the public life of Samuel. He judged
Israel all the days of his life. The office of judge had a twofold
sphere, external and internal. Externally, it bore on the oppression of
the people by foreign enemies, and the judge became the deliverer of the
people. But in this sense there was now nothing for Samuel to do,
especially after the accession of Saul to the kingdom. The judge seems
to have likewise had to do with the administration of justice, and the
preservation of the peace and general welfare of the nation. It is very
natural to suppose that Samuel would be profoundly concerned to imbue
the people with just views of the purpose for which God had called them,
and of the law and covenant which He had given them. The three places
among which he is said to have made his circuit, Bethel, Gilgal and
Mizpeh, were not far from each other, all being situated in the tribes
of Benjamin and Judah,--in that part of the land which afterwards
constituted the kingdom of the two tribes. To these three places falls
to be added Ramah, also in the same neighbourhood, where was his house.
In this place he built an altar to the Lord. Whether this was in
connection with the tabernacle or not, we cannot say. We know that in
the time of David's wanderings "the house of God" was at Nob (Compare 1
Sam. xxi. 1 and Matt. xii. 4), but we have nothing to show us when it
was carried thither. All we can say is, that Samuel's altar must have
been a visible memorial of the worship of God, and a solemn protest
against any idolatrous rites to which any of the people might at any
time be attracted.

In this way Samuel spent his life like Him whose type he was, "always
about his Father's business." An unselfish man, having no interests of
his own, full of zeal for the service of God and the public welfare;
possibly too little at home, taking too little charge of his children,
and thus at last in the painful position of one, "whose sons walked not
in his ways, but turned aside after lucre, and took bribes, and
perverted judgment" (ch. viii. 1). That Samuel attained the highest
reputation for sanctity, intercourse with God and holy influence, is
plain from various passages of Scripture. In Psalm xcix. 6, he is
coupled with Moses and Aaron, as having influence with God,--"they
called upon the Lord and He answered them." In Jeremiah xv. 1, his name
is coupled with that of Moses alone as a powerful intercessor, "Though
Moses and Samuel stood before Me, yet My mind could not be toward this
people." His mother's act of consecration was wonderfully fulfilled.
Samuel stands out as one of the best and purest of the Hebrew worthies.
His name became a perpetual symbol of all that was upright, pure and
Godlike. The silent influence of his character was a great power in
Israel, inspiring many a young heart with holy awe, and silencing the
flippant arrogance of the scoffer. Mothers, did not Hannah do well, do
nobly, in dedicating her son to the Lord? Sons and daughters, was it not
a noble and honourable life? Then go ye and do likewise. And God be
pleased to incline many a heart to the service; a service, which with
all its drawbacks, is the highest and the noblest; and which bequeaths
so blessed a welcome into the next stage of existence: "Well done, good
and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."



CHAPTER X.

_THE PEOPLE DEMAND A KING._

1 SAMUEL viii.


Whatever impression the "Ebenezer" of Samuel may have produced at the
time, it passed away with the lapse of years. The feeling that, in
sympathy with Samuel, had recognized so cordially at that time the
unbroken help of Jehovah from the very beginning, waxed old and vanished
away. The help of Jehovah was no longer regarded as the palladium of the
nation. A new generation had risen up that had only heard from their
fathers of the deliverance from the Philistines, and what men only hear
from their fathers does not make the same impression as what they see
with their own eyes. The privilege of having God for their king ceased
to be felt, when the occasions passed away that made His interposition
so pressing and so precious. Other things began to press upon them,
other cravings began to be felt, that the theocracy did not meet. This
double process went on--the evils from which God did deliver becoming
more faint, and the benefits which God did not bestow becoming more
conspicuous by their absence--till a climax was reached. Samuel was
getting old, and his sons were not like himself; therefore they afforded
no materials for continuing the system of judges. None of them could
ever fill their father's place. The people forgot that God's policy had
been to raise up judges from time to time as they were needed. But would
it not be better to discontinue this hand-to-mouth system of government
and have a regular succession of kings? Why should Israel contrast
disadvantageously in this respect with the surrounding nations? This
seems to have been the unanimous feeling of the nation. "All the elders
of Israel gathered themselves together, and said to Samuel, Make us a
king to judge us like all the nations."

It seems to us very strange that they should have done such a thing. Why
were they not satisfied with having God for their king? Was not the roll
of past achievements under His guidance very glorious? What could have
been more wonderful than the deliverance from Egypt, and the triumph
over the greatest empire in the world? Had ever such victories been
heard of as those over Sihon and Og? Was there ever a more triumphant
campaign than that of Joshua, or a more comfortable settlement than that
of the tribes? And if Canaanites, and Midianites, and Ammonites, and
Philistines had vexed them, were not Barak and Deborah, Gideon and
Jephthah, Samson and Samuel, more than a match for the strongest of them
all? Then there was the moral glory of the theocracy. What nation had
ever received direct from God, such ordinances, such a covenant, such
promises? Where else were men to be found that had held such close
fellowship with heaven as Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Moses and Aaron, and
Joshua? What other people had had such revelations of the fatherly
character of God, so that it could be said of them, "As an eagle
stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her
wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings: so the Lord did lead him,
and there was no strange god with him." Instead of wishing to change the
theocracy, we might have expected that every Israelite, capable of
appreciating solid benefits, would have clung to it as his greatest
privilege and his greatest honour.

But it was otherwise. Comparatively blind to its glories, they wished to
be like other nations. It is too much a characteristic of our human
nature that it is indifferent to God, and to the advantages which are
conferred by His approval and His blessing. How utterly do some leave
God out of their calculations! How absolutely unconcerned they are as to
whether they can reckon on His approval of their mode of life, how
little it seems to count! You that by false pretences sell your wares
and prey upon the simple and unwary; you that heed not what
disappointment or what pain and misery you inflict on those who believe
you, provided you get their money; you that grow rich on the toil of
underpaid women and children, whose life is turned to slavery to fulfil
your hard demands, do you never think of God? Do you never take into
your reckoning that He is against you, and that He will one day come to
reckon with you? You that frequent the haunts of secret wickedness, you
that help to send others to the devil, you that say, "Am I my brother's
keeper?" when you are doing your utmost to confirm others in debauchery
and pollution, is it nothing to you that you have to reckon one day with
an angry God? Be assured that God is not mocked, for whatsoever a man
soweth, that shall he also reap; for he that soweth to the flesh shall
of the flesh reap corruption, while he that soweth to the Spirit shall
of the Spirit reap life everlasting.

But the lesson of the text is rather for those who have the favour and
blessing of God, but are not content, and still crave worldly things.
You are in covenant with God. He has redeemed you, not with corruptible
things such as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ.
You are now sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what you shall be.
There is laid up for you an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and
that fadeth not away. Yet your heart hankers after the things of the
world. Your acquaintances and friends are better off. Your bare house,
your homely furnishings, your poor dress, your simple fare distress you,
and you would fain be in a higher worldly sphere, enjoying more
consideration, and participating more freely in worldly enjoyments. Be
assured, my friends, you are not in a wholesome frame of mind. To be
depreciating the surpassing gifts which God has given you, and to be
exaggerating those which He has withheld, is far from being a wholesome
condition. You wish to be like the nations. You forget that your very
glory is not to be like them. Your glory is that ye are a chosen
generation, an holy nation, a royal priesthood, a peculiar people, your
bodies temples of the Holy Ghost, your souls united to the Lord Jesus
Christ.

Yet again, there are congregations, which though in humble
circumstances, have enjoyed much spiritual blessing. Their songs have
gone up, bearing the incense of much love and gratitude; their prayers
have been humble and hearty, most real and true; and the Gospel has come
to them not in word only, but in power, and in the Holy Ghost, and in
much assurance. Yet a generation has grown up that thinks little of
these inestimable blessings, and misses fine architecture, and
elaborate music, and highly cultured services. They want to have a king
like the nations. However they may endanger the spiritual blessing, it
is all-important to have these surroundings. It is a perilous position,
all the more perhaps that many do not see the peril--that many have
little or no regard for the high interests that are in such danger of
being sacrificed.

This then, was the request of all the elders of Israel to Samuel--"Give
us a king to judge us like all the nations." We have next to consider
how it was received by the prophet.

"The thing displeased Samuel." On the very face of it, it was an affront
to himself. It intimated dissatisfaction with the arrangement which had
made him judge of the people under God. Evidently they were tired of
him. He had given them the best energies of his youth and of his
manhood. He had undoubtedly conferred on them many real benefits. For
all this, his reward is to be turned off in his old age. They wish to
get rid of him, and of his manner of instructing them in the ways of the
Lord. And the kind of functionary they wish to get in his room is not of
a very flattering order. The kings of the nations for the most part were
a poor set of men. Despotic, cruel, vindictive, proud--they were not
much to be admired. Yet Israel's eyes are turned enviously to them!
Possibly Samuel was failing more than he was aware of, for old men are
slow to recognise the progress of decay, and highly sensitive when it is
bluntly intimated to them. Besides this, there was another sore point
which the elders touched roughly. "Thy sons walk not in thy ways."
However this may have come about, it was a sad thought to their father.
But fathers often have the feeling that while they may reprove their
sons, they do not like to hear this done by others. Thus it was that
the message of the elders came home to Samuel, first of all, in its
personal bearings, and greatly hurt him. It was a personal affront, it
was hard to bear. The whole business of his life seemed frustrated;
everything he had tried to do had failed; his whole life had missed its
aim. No wonder if Samuel was greatly troubled.

But in the exercise of that admirable habit which he had learned so
thoroughly, Samuel took the matter straight to the Lord. And even if no
articulate response had been made to his prayer, the effect of this
could not but have been great and important. The very act of going into
God's presence was fitted to change, in some measure, Samuel's estimate
of the situation. It placed him at a new point of view--at God's point
of view. When he reached that, the aspect of things must have undergone
a change. The bearing of the transaction on God must have come out more
prominently than its bearing on Samuel. And this was fully expressed in
God's words. "They have not rejected thee, but they have rejected Me."
Samuel was but the servant, God was the lord and king. The servant was
not greater than his lord, nor the disciple greater than his Master. The
great sin of the people was their sin against God. He it was to whom the
affront had been given; He, if any, it was that had cause to remonstrate
and complain.

So prone are even the best of God's servants to put themselves before
their Master. So prone are ministers of the Gospel, when any of their
flock has acted badly, to think of the annoyance to themselves, rather
than the sin committed in the holy eyes of God. So prone are we all, in
our families, and in our Churches, and in society, to think of other
aspects of sin, than its essential demerit in God's sight. Yet surely
this should be the first consideration. That God should be dishonoured
is surely a far more serious thing than that man should be offended. The
sin against God is infinitely more heinous than the sin against man. He
that has sinned against God has incurred a fearful penalty--what if this
should lie on his conscience for ever, unconfessed, unforgiven? It is a
fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

Yet, notwithstanding this very serious aspect of the people's offence,
God instructs Samuel to "hearken to their voice, yet protest solemnly to
them, and show them the manner of the kingdom." There were good reasons
why God should take this course. The people had shown themselves
unworthy of the high privilege of having God for their king. When men
show themselves incapable of appreciating a high privilege, it is meet
they should suffer the loss of it, or at least a diminution of it. They
had shown a perpetual tendency to those idolatrous ways by which God was
most grievously dishonoured. A theocracy, to work successfully, would
need a very loyal people. Had Israel only been loyal, had it even been a
point of conscience and a point of honour with them to obey God's voice,
had they even had a holy recoil from every act offensive to Him, the
theocracy would have worked most beautifully. But there had been such a
habitual absence of this spirit, that God now suffered them to institute
a form of government that interposed a human official between Him and
them, and that subjected them likewise to many an inconvenience. Yet
even in allowing this arrangement God did not utterly withdraw His
loving-kindness from them. The theocracy did not wholly cease. Though
they would find that their kings would make many an exaction of them,
there would be among them some that would reign in righteousness, and
princes that would rule in judgment. The king would so far be approved
of God as to bear the name of "the Lord's anointed:" and would thus, in
a sense, be a type of the great Anointed One, the true Messiah, whose
kingdom, righteous, beneficent, holy, would be an everlasting kingdom,
and his dominion from generation to generation.

The next scene in the chapter before us finds Samuel again met with the
heads of the people. He is now showing them "the manner of the
king"--the relation in which he and they will stand to one another. He
is not to be a king that gives, but a king that takes. His exactions
will be very multifarious. First of all, the most sacred treasures of
their homes, their sons and their daughters, would be taken to do hard
work in his army, and on his farms, and in his house. Then, their landed
property would be taken on some pretext--the vineyards and olive-yards
inherited from their fathers--and given to his favourites. The tenth
part of the produce, too, of what remained would be claimed by him for
his officers and his servants, and the tenth of their flocks. Any
servant, or young man, or animal, that was particularly handsome and
valuable would be sure to take his fancy, and to be attached for his
service. This would be ordinarily the manner of their king. And the
oppression and vexation connected with this system of arbitrary
spoliation would be so great that they would cry out against him, as
indeed they did in the days of Rehoboam, yet the Lord would not hear
them. Such was Samuel's picture of what they desired so much, but it
made no impression; the people were still determined to have their
king.

What a contrast there was between this exacting king, and the true King,
the King that in the fulness of the time was to come to His people, meek
and having salvation, riding upon the foal of an ass! If there be
anything more than another that makes this King glorious, it is His
giving nature. "The Son of God," says the Apostle, "loved me, and gave
Himself for me." Gave Himself! How comprehensive the word! All that He
was as God, all that He became as man. As prophet He gave Himself to
teach, as priest to atone and intercede, as king to rule and to defend.
"The Good Shepherd _giveth_ His life for the sheep." "This is My body
which is _given_ for you." "If thou knewest the gift of God, and Who it
is that saith unto thee, Give Me to drink, thou wouldest have asked of
Him, and He would have _given_ thee living water." With what kingly
generosity, while He was on earth, He scattered the gifts of health and
happiness among the stricken and the helpless! "Jesus went about all
Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the
kingdom, and healing all manner of sickness, and all manner of disease
among the people." See Him, even as He hung helpless on the cross,
exercising His royal prerogative by giving to the thief at His side a
right to the Kingdom of God--"Verily I say unto thee, this day shalt
thou be with Me in Paradise." See Him likewise, exalted on His throne
"at God's right hand, to be a Prince and a Saviour for to give
repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins." How different the
attributes of this King from him whom Samuel delineated! The one
exacting all that is ours; the other giving all that is His!

The last scene in the chapter shows us the people deliberately
disregarding the protest of Samuel, and reiterating their wilful
resolution--"Nay, but we will have a king over us; that we also may be
like all the nations, and that our king may judge us, and go out before
us, and fight our battles." Once more, Samuel brings the matter to the
Lord--repeats all that he has heard; and once more the Lord says to
Samuel, "Hearken unto their choice and make them a king." The matter is
now decided on, and it only remains to find the person who is to wear
the crown.

On the very surface of the narrative we see how much the people were
influenced by the desire to be "like all the nations." This does not
indicate a very exalted tone of feeling. To be like all the nations was
surely in itself a poor and childish thing, unless the nations were in
this respect in a better condition than Israel. Yet how common and
almost irresistible is this feeling!

Singularity is certainly not to be affected for singularity's sake; but
neither are we to conform to fashion simply because it is fashion. How
cruel and horrible often are its behests! The Chinese girl has to submit
to her feet being bandaged and confined till walking becomes a living
torture, and even the hours of what should be rest and sleep, are often
broken by bitter pain. The women of Lake Nyassa insert a piece of stone
in their upper lip, enlarging it from time to time till speaking and
eating become most awkward and painful operations, and the very lip
sometimes is torn away. Our fathers had terrible experience of the
tyranny of the drinking customs of their day; and in spite of the
greater freedom and the greater temperance of our time, there is no
little tyranny still in the drinking laws of many a class among us. All
this is just the outcome of the spirit that made the Hebrews so desire
a king--the shrinking of men's hearts from being unlike others, the
desire to be like the world. What men dread in such cases is not
wrong-doing, not sin, not offending God; but incurring the reproof of
men, being laughed at, boycotted by their fellows. But is not this a
very unworthy course? Can any man truly respect himself who says, "I do
this not because I think it right, not even because I deem it for my
interest, but simply because it is done by the generality of people?"
Can any man justify himself before God, if the honest utterance of his
heart must be, "I take this course, not because I deem it well-pleasing
in Thy sight, but because if I did otherwise, men would laugh at me and
despise me?" The very statement of the case in explicit terms condemns
it. Not less is it condemned by the noble conduct of those to whom grace
has been given to withstand the voice of the multitude and stand up
faithfully for truth and duty. Was there ever a nobler attitude than
that of Caleb, when he withstood the clamour of the other spies, and
followed the Lord fully? or that of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego,
when alone among myriads, they refused to bow down to the image of gold?
or that of Luther when, alone against the world, he held unflinchingly
by his convictions of truth?

Let the young especially ponder these things. To them it often seems a
terrible thing to resist the general voice, and hold by conscience and
duty. To confess Christ among a school of despisers, is often like
martyrdom. But think! What is it to _deny_ Christ? Can that bring any
peace or satisfaction to those who know His worth? Must it not bring
misery and self-contempt? If the duty of confessing Him be difficult,
seek strength for the duty. Pray for the strength which is made perfect
in your weakness. Cast your thoughts onward to the day of Christ's
second coming, when the opinion and practice of the world shall all be
reduced to their essential worthlessness, and the promises to the
faithful, firm as the everlasting hills, shall be gloriously fulfilled.
For in that day, Hannah's song shall have a new fulfilment: "He raiseth
up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the beggar out of the
dunghill, to set them among princes, and make them inherit the throne of
glory."



CHAPTER XI.

_SAUL BROUGHT TO SAMUEL._

1 SAMUEL ix. 1-14.


God's providence is a wonderful scheme; a web of many threads, woven
with marvellous skill; a network composed of all kinds of materials,
great and small, but so arranged that the very smallest of them is as
essential as the largest to the completeness of the fabric.

One would suppose that many of the dramas of the Old Testament were
planned on very purpose to show how intimately things secular and things
sacred, as we call them, are connected together; how entirely the
minutest events are controlled by God, and at the same time how
thoroughly the freedom of man is preserved. The meeting of two convicts
in an Egyptian prison is a vital link in the chain of events that makes
Joseph governor of Egypt; a young lady coming to bathe in the river
preserves the life of Moses, and secures the escape of the Israelites;
the thoughtful regard of a father for the comfort of his sons in the
army brings David into contact with Goliath, and prepares the way for
his elevation to the throne; the beauty of a Hebrew girl fascinating a
Persian king saves the whole Hebrew race from massacre and
extermination.

So in the passage now before us. The straying of some asses from the
pastures of a Hebrew farmer brings together the two men, of whom the one
was the old ruler, and the other was to be the new ruler of Israel. That
these two should meet, and that the older of them should have the
opportunity of instructing and influencing the younger, was of the
greatest consequence for the future welfare of the nation. And the
meeting is brought about in that casual way that at first sight seems to
indicate that all things happen without plan or purpose. Yet we find, on
more careful examination, that every event has been planned to fit in to
every other, as carefully as the pieces of a dissected map, or the
fragments of a fine mosaic. But of all the actors in the drama, not one
ever feels that his freedom is in any way interfered with. All of them
are at perfect liberty to follow the course that commends itself to
their own minds.

Thus wonderfully do the two things go together--Divine ordination and
human freedom. How it should be so, it baffles us to explain. But that
it is so, must be obvious to every thoughtful mind. And it is because we
see the two things so harmonious in the common affairs of life, that we
can believe them to act harmoniously in the higher plane of redemption
and salvation. For in that sphere, too, all things fall out in
accordance with the Divine plan. "Known unto God are all His works from
the beginning of the world." Yet this universal predestination in no
degree interferes with the liberty of man. If men reject God's offers,
it is because they are personally unwilling to accept of them. If they
receive His offers, it is because they have been made willing to do so.
"Ye will not come unto Me that ye might have life," said our Lord to the
Jews. And yet it is ever true that "it is God that worketh in you both
to will and to do of His good pleasure."

God having given the people permission to appoint a king, that king has
now to be found. What kind of person must the first king be--the first
to supersede the old rule of the Divinely-inspired judges, the first to
fulfil the cravings of the people, the first to guide the nation which
had been appointed by God to stand in so close a relation to Himself?

It seemed desirable, that in the first king of Israel, two classes of
qualities should be united, in some degree contradictory to one another.
First, he must possess some of the qualities for which the people desire
to have a king; while at the same time, from God's point of view, it is
desirable that under him the people should have some taste of the evils
which Samuel had said would follow from their choice.

To an Oriental people, a stately and commanding personality was
essential to an ideal king. They liked a king that would look well on
great occasions, that would be a commanding figure at the head of an
army, or in the centre of a procession; that would arrest the eye of
strangers, and inspire at first sight an involuntary respect for the
nation that had such a ruler at its head. Nor could any one have more
fully realized the wishes of the people in this respect than Saul. "A
choice young man and a goodly; there was not among the children of
Israel a goodlier person than he; from his shoulders and upward he was
higher than any of the people."

Further, though his tribe was small in number, it was not small in
influence. And his family was of a superior caste, for Kish was "a
mighty man of power." And Saul's personal qualities were prepossessing
and promising. He showed himself ready to comply with his father's
order about the asses that had strayed, and to undertake a laborious
journey to look for them. He was interested in his father's business,
and ready to help him in his time of need. And the business which he
undertook he seems to have executed with great patience and
thoroughness. A foot journey over a great part of the territory of
Benjamin was no easy task. Altogether, he shows himself, as we say, a
capable man. He is not afraid to face the irksome; he does not consult
merely for his ease and pleasure; labour does not distress him, and
difficulties do not daunt him.

All this was so far promising, and it seems to have been exactly what
the people desired. But on the other hand, there seems to have been,
from the very beginning, a great want in Saul. He appears from the very
first to have wanted all that was most conspicuous and most valuable in
Samuel. It is a circumstance not without its significance, that the very
name and work of Samuel do not seem to have been familiar or even known
to him. It was his servant that knew about Samuel, and that told Saul of
his being in the city, in the land of Zuph (ver. 6). This cannot but
strike us as very strange. We should have thought that the name of
Samuel would have been as familiar to all the people of Israel as that
of Queen Victoria to the people of Great Britain. But Saul does not
appear to have heard it, as in any way remarkable. Does not this
indicate a family living entirely outside of all religious connections,
entirely immersed in secular things, caring nothing about godly people,
and hardly ever even pronouncing their name? It is singular how utterly
ignorant worldly men are of what passes in religious circles, if they
happen to have no near relative, or familiar acquaintance in the
religious world to carry the news to them from time to time. And as Saul
thus lived outside of all religious circles, so he seems to have been
entirely wanting in that great quality which was needed for a king of
Israel--loyalty to the Heavenly King. Here it was that the difference
between him and Samuel was so great. Loyalty to God and to God's nation
was the very foundation of Samuel's life. Anything like self-seeking was
unknown to him. He had early undergone that momentous change, when God
is substituted for self as the pivot of one's life. The claims of the
great King were ever paramount in his eyes. What would please God and be
honouring to Him, was the first question that rose to his mind. And as
Israel was God's people, so the interest and the welfare of Israel were
ever dear to him. And thus it was that Samuel might be relied on not to
think of himself, not to think of his own wishes or interests, except as
utterly subordinate to the wishes and interests of his God and his
nation. It was this that gave such solidity to Samuel's character, and
made him so invaluable to his people. In every sphere of life it is a
precious quality. Whether as domestic servants, or clerks, or managers,
dependent on others, those persons are ever of priceless worth whose
hearts are thus set on objects outside themselves, and who are proof
against the common temptations of selfishness and worldliness. And when
they are the rulers of a nation, and are able to disregard their
personal welfare in their burning desire to benefit the whole people,
they rise to the rank of heroes, and after their death, their names are
enshrined in the memories of a grateful and admiring people.

But in these high qualities, Saul seems to have been altogether wanting.
For though he was not selfish and self-indulgent at first, though he
readily obeyed his father in going to search for the strayed asses, he
had no deep root of unselfishness in his nature, and by-and-bye, in the
hour of temptation, the cloven foot unhappily appeared. And ere long the
people would learn, that as Saul had in him no profound reverence for
the will of God, so he had in him no profound and indefeasible regard
for the welfare of God's people. The people would come to see what a
fatal mistake they had made in selecting a king merely for superficial
qualities, and passing by all that would have allied him, as Samuel was
allied, to God himself. Now it seems to have been God's purpose that the
first king of Israel should be a man of this kind. Through him the
people were to learn that the king who simply fulfilled their notions,
was capable, when his self-will was developed, of dragging the nation to
ruin. No! it was not the superficial qualities of Saul that would be a
blessing to the nation. It was not a man out of all spiritual sympathy
with the living God that would raise the standing of Israel among the
kingdoms around, and bring them the submission and respect of foreign
kings. The intense and consistent godliness of Samuel was probably the
quality that was not popular among the people. In the worldliness of his
spirit, Saul was probably more to their liking. Yet it was this
unworldly but godly Samuel that had delivered them from the bitter yoke
of the Philistines, and it was this handsome but unspiritual Saul that
was to bring them again into bondage to their ancient foes. This was the
sad lesson to be learned from the reign of Saul.

But God did not design altogether to abandon His people. When the
lesson should be learnt from Saul's history, He would guide them to a
king of a different stamp. He would give them a king after His own
heart--one that would make the will of God the great rule, and the
welfare of the people the great end of his government. David would
engrave in the history of the nation in deeper letters than even Samuel,
the all-important lesson, that for kings and countries as much as for
individuals, "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom;" that God
honours them that honour Him, while they that despise Him shall indeed
be lightly esteemed.

But let us now come to the circumstances that led to the meeting of Saul
and Samuel. The asses of Kish had strayed. Very probably they had
strayed at a time when they were specially needed. The operations of the
farm had to be suspended for want of them perhaps at a season when any
delay would be especially inconvenient. In all ranks of life, men are
subject to these vexations, and he is a happy man who does not fret
under them, but keeps his temper calm, in spite of all the worry.
Especially is he a happy man who retains his equanimity under the
conviction that the thing is appointed by God, and that He who overruled
the loss of Kish's asses to such high events in the history of his son,
is able so to order all their troubles and worries that they shall be
found conducive to their highest good. At Kish's order, Saul and one of
the servants go forth to seek the asses. With the precise localities
through which they passed, we are not accurately acquainted, such places
as Shalim or Zuph not having yet been identified. But the tour must have
been an extensive one, extending over most of the territory of Benjamin;
and as it must have been necessary to make many a detour, up hill and
down dale, to this farm and to that, the labour involved must have been
very great. It was not a superficial but a thorough search.

At last, when they came to the land of Zuph, they had been away so long
that Saul thought it necessary to return, lest his father should think
that some evil had befallen them. But the servant had another string to
his bow. Though Saul was not familiar with the name or the character of
Samuel, his servant was. What God hides from the wise and prudent, He
sometimes reveals to babes. It is an interesting thing in the history of
the Church, how often great people have been indebted to servants for
important guidance, perhaps even for their first acquaintance with
saving truth. The little captive maid that ministered in the house of
Naaman the Syrian was the channel through whom he came to know of the
prophet of Israel who was able to heal him. Many a distinguished
Christian has acknowledged, like the Earl of Shaftesbury, his
obligations to some pious nurse that when he was a child told him Bible
stories and pressed on his heart the claims of God. Happy those servants
who are faithful in these circumstances, and of whom it can be said,
"They have done what they could!" Of this servant of Saul's we know
nothing whatever, save that, in his master's dilemma, he told him of the
Lord's servant, and induced him to apply to him to extricate him from
his difficulty.

It does not appear that the city was Samuel's usual place of abode. It
was a place to which he had come to hold a religious service, and the
occasion was evidently one of much importance. It is interesting to
observe how the difficulty was got over, of their having no present to
offer to the man of God, in accordance with the custom of the country.
Saul, though in comfortable circumstances, had absolutely no particle of
money with him. His servant had but a quarter of a shekel, not designed
apparently for spending purposes, but perhaps a little keepsake or kind
of amulet he carried about with him. But there was such hospitality in
those days that people going about the country had no need for money. So
it was when our Lord instructed the disciples when sending them out on
their missionary tour--"Provide neither gold nor silver nor brass in
your purses, nor scrip for your journey, neither two coats, neither
shoes, nor yet staves, for the labourer is worthy of his meat." Those
who have presumed on these instructions, holding that the modern
missionary does not need any sustenance to be provided for him, but may
safely trust to the hospitality of the heathen, forget how different was
the case and the custom among the Hebrew people.

But now, as Saul and his servant came to the city, another providential
meeting takes place to help them to their object. "As they went up the
hill to the city, they found young maidens going out to draw water." The
city was up the hill, and the water supply would naturally be at the
bottom. From the maidens that were going down to the fountain, they
obtained information fitted to quicken their movements. They learned
that the prophet had already arrived. The preparations for the sacrifice
which he was to offer were now going on. It was just the time to get a
word with him, if they had business to transact. Very soon he would be
going up to the high place, and then the solemn rites would begin, and
be followed by the feast, which would engross his whole attention. If
they would catch him at the proper moment they must "make haste." That
they did quicken their pace, we cannot doubt. And it was necessary; for
just as they reached the city Samuel made his appearance, about to go up
to the high place. If they had lost that moment, they would probably
have had no opportunity during the whole day. Nor is it likely that
Saul, who had no great desire for the company of the prophet, would have
waited till the sacrifice and the feast were over. The two men were
brought together just in the nick of time. And thus another essential
link of God's chain, bringing the old and the new ruler of Israel into
contact with each other, was happily adjusted, all through means to us
apparently accidental, but forming parts of the great scheme of God.

From this part of the narrative we may derive two great lessons, the one
with reference to God, and the other with reference to man.

First, as it regards God, we cannot but see how silently, secretly,
often slowly, yet surely, He accomplishes His purposes. There are
certain rivers in nature that flow so gently, that when looking at the
water only, the eye of the spectator is unable to discern any movement
at all. Often the ways of God resemble such rivers. Looking at what is
going on in common life, it is so ordinary, so absolutely quiet, that
you can see no trace whatever of any Divine plan. Things seem left to
themselves, and God appears to have no connection with them. And yet,
all the while, the most insignificant of them is contributing towards
the accomplishment of the mighty plans of God. By means of ten thousand
times ten thousand agents, conscious and unconscious, things are moving
on towards the grand consummation. Men may be instruments in God's
hands without knowing it. When Cyrus was moving his armies towards
Babylon, he little knew that he was accomplishing the Divine purpose for
the humbling of the oppressor and the deliverance of His oppressed
people. And in all the events of common life, men seem to be so
completely their own masters, there seems such a want of any influence
from without, that God is liable to slip entirely out of sight. And yet,
as we see from the chapter before us, God is really at work. Whether men
know it or not, they are really fulfilling the purposes of His will.
Calmly but steadily, like the stars in the silent heavens, men are
bringing to pass the schemes of God. His wildest enemies are really
helping to swell His triumphs. Oh, how vain is the attempt to resist His
mighty hand! The day cometh, when all the tokens of confusion and defeat
shall disappear, when the bearing even of the fall of a sparrow on the
plans of God shall be made apparent, and every intelligent creature in
earth and heaven shall join in the mighty shout--"Alleluiah, for the
Lord God Omnipotent reigneth."

But again, there is a useful lesson in this chapter for directing the
conduct of men. You see in what direction the mind of Saul's servant
moved for guidance in the day of difficulty. It was toward the servant
of God. And you see likewise how, when Saul and he had determined to
consult the man of God, they were providentially guided to him. To us,
the way is open to God Himself, without the intervention of any prophet.
Let us in every time of trouble seek access to God. Have we not a
thousand examples of it in Bible history, and in other history too? Men
say it is not right we should trouble God with trifles. Nay, the living
God knows not what trouble is, and in His scheme there are no trifles.
There is no limit one way or other in the command, "_In everything_ by
prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made
known unto God." "Acknowledge Him in _all_ your ways, and He will direct
your steps." But above all, acknowledge Him with reference to the way of
life eternal. Make sure that you are in the way to heaven. Use well the
guide book with which you are furnished. Let God's word be a light to
your feet and a lamp to your path; and then your path shall itself "be
like the shining light, shining brighter and brighter unto the perfect
day."



CHAPTER XII.

_FIRST MEETING OF SAMUEL AND SAUL._

1 SAMUEL ix. 15-27.


The meeting between Samuel and Saul was preceded by previous meetings
between Samuel and God. God had prepared the prophet for his visit from
the future king of Israel, and the first thing brought before us in
these verses is the communication on this subject which had been made to
the prophet a day before.

It is very interesting to observe how readily Samuel still lends himself
for any service he can render on behalf of his people, under the new
arrangement that God had permitted for their government. We have seen
how mortified Samuel was at first, when the people came to him with
their request for a king. He took it as a personal affront, as well as a
grave public error. Conscious as he was of having done his duty
faithfully, and of having rendered high service to the nation, and
reposing calmly, as he probably was, on the expectation that at least
for some time to come, Israel would move forward peacefully and happily
on the lines which he had drawn for them, it must have been a staggering
blow when they came to him and asked him to overturn all that he had
done, and make them a king. It must have been one of those bewildering
moments when one's whole life appears lost, and all one's dearest hopes
and hardest labours lie shattered, like the fragments of a potter's
vessel. We have seen how, in that sad moment, Samuel carried his sorrows
to the Lord, and learning thus to view the whole matter from God's point
of view, how he came to make comparatively little account of his own
disappointment, and to think only how he could still serve the cause of
God, how he could still help the people, how he could prevent the vessel
which he was no longer to steer from dashing against the hidden rocks he
saw so clearly ahead. It is impossible not to be struck with the beauty
and purity of Samuel's character in this mode of action.

How many a good man takes offence when slighted or superseded by some
committee or other body, in connection with a political, social, or
religious cause which he has tried to help! If they won't have me, he
says, let them do without me. If they won't allow me to carry out the
course which I have followed, and which has been undoubtedly highly
beneficial, I'll have nothing more to do with them. He sulks in his tent
like Achilles, or goes over to the enemy like Coriolanus. Not so Samuel!
His love for the people is too deep to allow of such a course. They have
behaved badly to him, but notwithstanding he will not leave them. Like
an injured but loving wife, who labours with every art of patient
affection to reclaim the husband that has abused her and broken her
heart; like a long-suffering father, who attends with his own hands to
the neglected work of his dissipated son, to save him if possible from
the consequences of his folly--Samuel overlooks his personal slight, and
bears with the public folly of the people, in the endeavour to be of
some use to them in the important stage of their history on which they
are entering. He receives Divine communications respecting the man who
is to supersede him in the government of the people, and instead of
jealousy and dislike, shows every readiness to help him. It is
refreshing to find such tokens of magnanimity and disinterestedness.
However paltry human nature may be in itself, it can become very noble
when rehabilitated by the Spirit of God. Need we ask which is the nobler
course? You feel that you have not been treated perhaps by your church
with sufficient consideration. You fret, you complain, you stay away
from church, you pour your grievance into every open ear. Would Samuel
have done so? Is not your conduct the very reverse of his? Side by side
with his, must not yours be pronounced poor and paltry? Have you not
need to study the thirteenth chapter of 1 Corinthians, and when you read
of the charity that "beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth
all things, endureth all things," ask yourselves whether it might not be
said of you that you have neither part nor lot in this matter?

The communication that God had made to Samuel was, that on the following
day He would send to him the man whom he was to anoint as captain over
Israel, that he might save them from the Philistines; for He had looked
upon His people, because their cry was come up to Him. There is an
apparent inconsistency here with what is said elsewhere. In chap. viii.
13 it is said, that "the Philistines came no more into the coast of
Israel, and that the hand of the Lord was against the Philistines all
the days of Samuel." But probably "all the days of Samuel" mean only the
days when he exerted himself actively against them. As long as Samuel
watched and checked them, they were kept in restraint; but when he
ceased to do so, they resumed their active hostility. The concluding
verses of chap. xiii. (19-23) show that in Saul's time the Philistine
oppression had become so galling that the very smiths had been removed
from the land of Israel, and there was no right provision even for
sharpening ploughshares, or coulters, or axes, or mattocks. Undoubtedly
Saul removed this oppression for a time, and David's elegy shows how
beneficial his reign was in some other ways, although the last act of
his life was an encounter with the Philistines in which he was utterly
defeated. It is evident that before Saul's time the tyranny of their
foes had been very galling to the Israelites. The words of God, "their
cry is come up to Me," indicate quietly a very terrible state of
distress. They carry us back to the words uttered at the burning bush,
"I have seen, I have seen the affliction of My people which are in
Egypt, have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know
their sorrows." God speaks after the manner of men. He needs no cry to
come into His ears to tell Him of the woes of the oppressed.
Nevertheless He seems to wait till that cry is raised, till the appeal
is made to Him, till the consciousness of utter helplessness sends men
to His footstool. And a very blessed truth it is, that He sympathizes
with the cry of the oppressed. There is much meaning in the simple
expression--"their cry is come up to Me." It denotes a very tender
sympathy, a concern for all that they have been suffering, and a
resolution to interpose on their behalf. God is never impassive nor
indifferent to the sorrows and sufferings of His people. All are
designed to serve as chastenings with a view to ultimate good. The eye
of God is ever watching to see whether the chastening is sufficient,
and when it is so, to stop the suffering. In the Inquisitor's chamber,
the eye of God was ever on the boot and the thumbscrew, on the knife and
the pincers, on the furnace and all the other instruments of torture. In
the sick room, He watches the spent and struggling patient, knows every
paroxysm of pain, knows all the restlessness and tossing of the weary
night. He understands the anguish of the loving heart when one after
another of its treasures is torn away. He knows the unutterable distress
when a child's misconduct brings down grey heirs with sorrow to the
grave. Appearances may be all the other way, but "the Lord God is
merciful and gracious, slow to anger and of great compassion." The night
may be long and weary, but the dawn comes at the appointed time. "Ye
have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord,
that the Lord is very pitiful and of tender mercy."

But now Samuel and Saul have met. Saul is as unfamiliar with Samuel's
appearance as with his name; he goes up to him and asks where the seer's
house is. "I am the seer," replies Samuel; but at the moment Samuel was
not at liberty, and could not converse with Saul. He invites him to go
up with him to the high place, and take part in the religious service.
Then he invites him to the feast that was to follow the sacrifice. Next
day he is to deal with him as a prophet, making important communications
to him. But in regard to the matter which occupies him at the moment,
his father's asses, he need trouble himself no more on that head, for
the asses are found. Then he gives Saul a hint of what is coming. He
makes an announcement to him that he and his father's house are the
objects of the whole desire of Israel. It is not very apparent whether
or not Saul had any inkling of the meaning of this remark. It may be
that he viewed it as a mere expression of politeness, savouring of the
customary exaggeration of the East. At all events, his answer was
couched in those terms of extravagant humility which was likewise matter
of Eastern custom. "Am not I a Benjamite, of the smallest of the tribes
of Israel? and my family the least of all the families of the tribe of
Benjamin? Wherefore then speakest thou so to me?"

The sacrifice next engages the attention of all. Samuel's first meeting
with Saul takes place over the symbol of expiation, over the sacrifice
that shows man to be a sinner, and declares that without shedding of
blood there is no remission of sin. No doubt the circumstance was very
impressive to Samuel, and would be turned to its proper use in
subsequent conversation with Saul, whether Saul entered into the spirit
of it or not. If it be asked, How could a sacrifice take place on the
height of this city, whereas God had commanded that only in the place
which He was to choose should such rites be performed?--the answer is,
that at that time Shiloh lay in ruins, and Mount Zion was still in the
possession of the Jebusites. The final arrangements had not yet been
made for the Hebrew ceremonial, and in the present provisional and
unsettled state of things, sacrifices were not limited to a single
place.

After the sacrifice, came the feast. It was now that Samuel began to
give more explicit hints to Saul of the dignity to which he was to be
raised. The feast was held in "the parlour"--a room adjacent to the
place of sacrifice, to which Samuel had invited a large company--thirty
of the chief inhabitants of the town. First Saul and his servant are
complimented by having the place of honour assigned to them. Then they
are honoured by having a portion set before them which had been
specially set apart for them the day before. The speech concerning this
portion in ver. 24 is somewhat obscure if it be regarded as a speech of
Samuel's. It seems more natural to regard it as a speech of the cook's.
It will be observed that the word "Samuel" in the middle of the verse is
in italics, showing that it is not in the Hebrew, so that it is more
natural to regard the clause as having "the cook" for its nominative,
and indeed this talk about the portion is more suitable for the cook
than for Samuel. Servants were not forbidden to speak during
entertainments; nor did their masters disdain even to have serious
conversation with them (see Nehemiah ii. 2-8). There is another
correction of the Authorized Version that needs to be made. At the end
of ver. 24 the words "Since I said" are not a literal rendering. The
original is simply the word which is constantly rendered _saying_. It
has been suggested ("Speaker's Commentary") that a word or two should be
supplied to make the sense complete, and the verse would then
run:--"unto this time hath it been kept for thee [against the festival
of which Samuel spake], saying, I have invited the people." The part
thus reserved was the shoulder and its appurtenances. Why this part was
regarded as more honourable than any other, we do not know, nor is it of
any moment; the point of importance being, first, that by Samuel's
express instructions it had been reserved for Saul, and second, that
these instructions had been given as soon as Samuel made arrangements
for the feast. To honour Saul as the destined king of Israel was
Samuel's unhesitating purpose. Some men might have said, It will be
time enough to show this mark of respect when the man is actually chosen
king. Had there been the slightest feeling of grudge in the mind of
Samuel, this is what he would have thought. But instead of grudging Saul
his new dignity, he is forward to acknowledge it. There shall be no
holding back on his part of honour for the man whom the Lord delighted
to honour.

If the words of ver. 24 were really spoken by the cook, they must have
added a new element of surprise and impression to Saul. It was apparent
that he had been expected to this feast. The cook had been warned that a
man of consequence was coming, and had therefore set apart that portion
to him. Saul must have felt both that a supernatural power had been at
work, and that some strange destiny--possibly the royal dignity--was in
reserve for him. To us, pondering the circumstances, what is most
striking is, the wonderful way in which the fixed purpose of God is
accomplished, while all the agents in the matter remain perfectly free.
That Saul and his servant should be present with Samuel at that feast,
was the fixed decree of heaven. But it was brought about quite
naturally. There was no constraint on the mind of Saul's servant, when,
being in the land of Zuph, he proposed that they should go into the
city, and try to make inquiry of the man of God. There was no constraint
on the damsels when at a certain time they went down to the fountain for
water, and on their way met Saul and his servant. There was no
constraint on Saul and his servant, save that created by common sense,
when they quickened their pace in order to meet Samuel on the way to the
sacrifice. Every one of these events fell out freely and naturally. Yet
all were necessary links in the chain of God's purposes. From God's
point of view they were necessary, from man's point of view they were
casual. Thus necessity and freedom harmonized together, as they always
do in the plans and operations of God. It is absurd to say that the
predestination of God takes away the liberty of man. It is unreasonable
to suppose that because God has predestinated all events, we need not
take any step in the matter of our salvation. Such an idea is founded on
an utter misunderstanding of the relation in which God has placed us to
Him. It overlooks the great truth, that God's ways are not our ways, nor
His thoughts our thoughts. The relation of the Infinite Will to the
wills of finite creatures is a mystery we cannot fathom; but the effect
on us should be to impel us to seek that our will may ever be in harmony
with God's, and that thus the petition in the Lord's prayer may be
fulfilled, "Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven."

The feast is over; Samuel and Saul return to the city, and there, on the
housetop, they commune together. The twenty-sixth verse seems to narrate
in detail what is summarily contained in the twenty-fifth. After
returning from the sacrifice and the feast, they seem to have committed
themselves to rest. In the early morning, about daybreak, they had their
conversation on the housetop, and thereafter Samuel sent Saul away,
convoying him part of the road. What the conversation on the housetop
was, we are not told; but we have no difficulty in conjecturing. Samuel
could not but communicate to Saul the treasured thoughts of his lifetime
regarding the way to govern Israel. He must have recalled to him God's
purpose regarding His people, beginning with the call of Abraham,
dwelling on the deliverance from Egypt, and touching on the history of
the several judges, and the lessons to be derived from each. We may
fancy the fervour with which he would urge on Saul, that the one thing
most essential for the prosperity of the nation--the one thing which
those in power ought continually to watch and aim at, was, loyalty by
the people to their heavenly King, and the faithful observance of His
law and covenant. He would dwell emphatically on the many instances in
which neglect of the covenant had brought disaster and misery, and on
the wonderful change in their outward circumstances which had come with
every return of fidelity to their King. Granted, they were soon to have
a king. They were to change their form of government, and be like the
rest of the nations. But if they changed their form of government, they
were not to surrender the palladium of their nation, they were not to
abandon their "gloria et tutamen." The new king would be tempted like
all the kings around him to regard his own will as his only rule of
action, and to fall in with the prevalent notion, that kings were above
the law, because the king's will was the law, and nothing could be
higher than that. What an infinite calamity it would be to himself and
to the nation, if the new king of Israel were to fall into such a
delusion! Yes, the king _was_ above the law, and the king's will _was_
the law; but it was the King of kings alone who had this prerogative,
and woe to the earthly ruler that dared to climb into His throne, and
take into his puny hands the sceptre of the Omnipotent!

Such, we may well believe, was the tenor of that first meeting of Samuel
and Saul. We cannot but carry forward our thoughts a little, and think
what was the last. The last meeting was at Endor, where in darkness and
utter despair, the king of Israel had thought of his early friend, had
perhaps recalled his gentle kindness on this first occasion of their
meeting, and wondered whether he might not be able and willing to throw
some light once more upon his path. But alas, the day of merciful
visitation was gone. The first conversation was in the brightness of
early morning; the last in midnight gloom. The time of day was
appropriate for each. On that sepulchral night, the worst evils that he
had dreaded, and against which he had doubtless warned him on that
housetop, had come to pass. Self-willed and regardless of God, Saul had
taken his own course, and brought his people to the very verge of ruin.
Differing, _toto coelo_, from Samuel in his treatment of his
successor, he had hunted David like a partridge on the mountains, and
stormed against the man who was to bring back to the nation the
blessings of which he had robbed it. Brought to bay at last by his
recklessness and passion, he could only reap the fruit of what he had
sown; "for God is not mocked; they that sow to the flesh shall of the
flesh reap corruption, and they that sow to the Spirit shall, of the
Spirit, reap life everlasting." Again there was to ring out the great
law of the kingdom,--"Them that honour Me, I will honour; while they
that despise Me shall be lightly esteemed."

The good words of Samuel fell not into good ground. He had not in Saul a
congenial hearer. Saul was too worldly a man to care for, or appreciate
spiritual things. Alas, how often for a similar reason, the best words
of the best men fail of their purpose! But how is this ever to be cured?
How is the uncongenial heart to become a fit bed for the good seed of
the Kingdom? I own, it is a most difficult thing. Those who are
afflicted with indifference to spiritual truth will not seek a remedy,
because the very essence of their malady is that they do not care. But
surely their Christian friends and relatives, and all interested in
their welfare, will care very much. Have you such persons--persons whose
worldly hearts show no sympathy with Divine truth--among your
acquaintances or in your families? Persons so steeped in worldliness
that the strongest statements of saving truth are as much lost upon them
as grains of the best wheat would be lost if sown in a heap of sand? O
how should you be earnest for such in prayer; there is a remedy, and
there is a Physician able to apply it; the Spirit of God if appealed to,
can repeat the process that was so effectual at Philippi, when "the Lord
opened the heart of Lydia, that she _attended_ to the things that were
spoken by Paul." "If ye then that are evil know how to give good things
unto your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven
give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him."



CHAPTER XIII.

_SAUL ANOINTED BY SAMUEL._

1 SAMUEL x. 1-16.


There is a remarkable minuteness of detail in this and other narratives
in Samuel, suggesting the authenticity of the narrative, and the
authorship of one who was personally connected with the transactions.
The historical style of Scripture is very characteristic; sometimes
great periods of time are passed over with hardly a word, and sometimes
events of little apparent importance are recorded with what might be
thought needless minuteness. In Genesis, the whole history of the world
before the flood is despatched in seven chapters, less than is occupied
with the history of Joseph. Enoch's biography is in one little verse,
while a whole chapter is taken up with the funeral of Sarah, and another
chapter of unusual length with the marrying of Isaac. Yet we can be at
no loss to discover good reasons for this arrangement. It combines two
forms of history--annals, and dramatic story. Annals are short, and
necessarily somewhat dry; but they have the advantage of embracing much
in comparatively short compass. The dramatic story is necessarily
diffuse; it occupies a large amount of space; but it has the advantage
of presenting a living picture--of bringing past events before the
reader as they happened at the time. If the whole history of the Bible
had been in the form of annals, it would have been very useful, but it
would have wanted human interest. If it had been all in the dramatic
form, it would have occupied too much space. By the combination of the
two methods, we secure the compact precision of the one, and the living
interest of the other. In the verses that are to form the subject of the
present lecture, we have a lively dramatic picture of what took place in
connection with the anointing of Saul by Samuel as king of Israel. The
event was a very important one, as showing the pains that were taken to
impress him with the solemnity of the office, and his obligation to
undertake it in full accord with God's sacred purpose in connection with
His people Israel. Everything was planned to impress on Saul that his
elevation to the royal dignity was not to be viewed by him as a mere
piece of good fortune, and to induce him to enter on the office with a
solemn sense of responsibility, and in a spirit entirely different from
that of the neighbouring kings, who thought only of their royal position
as enabling them to gratify the desires of their own hearts. Both Saul
and the people must see the hand of God very plainly in Saul's
elevation, and the king must enter on his duties with a profound sense
of the supernatural influences through which he has been elevated, and
his obligation to rule the people in the fear, and according to the
will, of God.

Though the servant that accompanied Saul seems to have been as much a
companion and adviser as a servant, and to have been present as yet in
all Samuel's intercourse with Saul, yet the act of anointing which the
prophet was now to perform was more suitable to be done in private than
in the presence of another; consequently the servant was sent on before
(ch. ix. 27). It would seem to have been Samuel's intention, while
paying honour to Saul as one to whom honour was due, and thus hinting at
his coming elevation, not to make it public, not to anticipate the
public selection which would follow soon in an orderly way. It was right
that Saul himself should know what was coming, and that his mind should
be prepared for it; but it was not right at this stage that others
should know it, for that would have seemed an interference with the
choice of the people. It must have been in some quiet corner of the road
that Samuel took out his vial of sacred oil, and poured it on Saul to
anoint him king of Israel. The kiss which he gave him was the kiss of
homage, a very old way of recognizing sovereignty (Ps. ii. 12), and
still kept up in the custom of kissing the sovereign's hand after
elevation to office or dignity. To be thus anointed by God's recognised
servant, was to receive the approval of God Himself. Saul now became
God's messiah--the Lord's anointed. For the term messiah, as applied to
Christ, belongs to His kingly office. Though the priests likewise were
anointed, the title derived from that act was not appropriated by them,
but by the kings. It was counted a high and solemn dignity, making the
king's person sacred, in the eyes of every God-fearing man. Yet this was
not an indelible character; it might be forfeited by unfaithfulness and
transgression. The only Messiah, the only Anointed One, who was
incapable of being set aside, was He whom the kings of Israel typified.
Of Him Isaiah foretold: "Of the increase of His government and peace
there shall be no end, upon the throne of David and upon his kingdom, to
order it and to establish it with judgment and with justice, from
henceforth even for ever." And in announcing the birth of Jesus, the
angel foretold: "He shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever, and of
His kingdom there shall be no end."

It is evident that Saul was surprised at the acts of Samuel. We can
readily fancy his look of astonishment after the venerable prophet had
given him the kiss of homage,--the searching gaze that asked, "What do
you mean by that?" Samuel was ready with his answer: "Is it not because
the Lord hath anointed thee to be captain over His heritage?" But in so
momentous a matter, involving a supernatural communication of the will
of God, an assurance even from Samuel was hardly sufficient. It was
reasonable that Saul should be supplied with tangible proofs that in
anointing him as king Samuel had complied with the will of God. These
tangible proofs Samuel proceeded to give. They consisted of predictions
of certain events that were about to happen--events that it was not
within the range of ordinary sagacity to foresee, and which were
therefore fitted to convince Saul that Samuel was in possession of
supernatural authority, and that the act of consecration which he had
just performed was agreeable to the will of God.

The first of these proofs was, that when he had proceeded on his journey
as far as Rachel's tomb, he would meet with two men who would tell him
that the lost asses had been found, and that his father's anxiety was
now about his son. It must be owned that the localities here are very
puzzling. If the meeting with Samuel was near Ramah of Benjamin, Saul,
in returning to Gibeah, would not have occasion to go near Rachel's
tomb. We can only say he may have had some reason for taking this route
unknown to us. Here he would find a confirmation of what Samuel had told
him on the day before; and his mind being thus relieved of anxiety, he
would have more freedom to ponder the marvellous things of which Samuel
had spoken to him.

The next token was to be found in the plain of Tabor, but this Tabor can
have no connection with the well-known mountain of that name in the
plain of Esdraelon. Some have conjectured that this Tabor is derived
from Deborah, Rachel's nurse, who was buried in the neighbourhood of
Bethel (Gen. xxxv. 8), but there is no probability in this conjecture.
Here three men, going up to Bethel to a religious festival were to meet
Saul; and they were to present him, as an act of homage, with two of
their three loaves. This was another evidence that God was filling men's
hearts with a rare feeling towards him.

The third token was to be the most remarkable of any. It was to occur at
what is called "the hill of God." Literally this is "Gibeah of
God"--God's Gibeah. It seems to have been Saul's own city, but the name
Gibeah may have been given to the whole hill where the city lay. The
precise spot where the occurrence was to take place was at the garrison
of the Philistines. (Thus it appears incidentally that the old enemy
were again harassing the country.) Gibeah, which is elsewhere called
Gibeah of Saul, is here called God's Gibeah, because of the sacred
services of which it was the seat. Here Saul would meet a company of
prophets coming down from the holy place, with psaltery, and tabret, and
pipe, and harp, and here his mind would undergo a change, and he would
be impelled to join the prophets' company. This was a strange token,
with a strange result.

We must try, first, to form some idea of Saul's state of mind in the
midst of these strange events.

The thought of his being king of Israel must have set his whole being
vibrating with high emotion. No mind can take in at first all that is
involved in such a stroke of fortune. A tumult of feeling surges through
the mind. It is intoxicated with the prospect. Glimpses of this pleasure
and of that, now brought within reach, flit before the fancy. The whole
pulses of Saul's nature must have been quickened. A susceptibility of
impression formerly unknown must have come to him. He was like a cloud
surcharged with electricity; he was in that state of nervous excitement
which craves a physical outlet, whether in singing, or shouting, or
leaping,--anything to relieve the brain and nervous system, which seem
to tremble and struggle under the extraordinary pressure.

But mingling with this, there must have been another, and perhaps
deeper, emotion at work in Saul's bosom. He had been brought into near
contact with the Supernatural. The thought of the Infinite Power that
ordains and governs all had been stirred very vividly within him. The
three tokens of Divine ordination met with in succession at Rachel's
tomb, in the plain of Tabor, and in the neighbourhood of Gibeah, must
have impressed him very profoundly. Probably he had never had any very
distinct impression of the great Supernatural Being before. The worldly
turn of mind which was natural to him would not occupy itself with any
such thoughts. But now it was made clear to him not only that there was
a Supernatural Being, but that He was dealing very closely with him. It
is always a solemn thing to feel in the presence of God, and to remember
that He is searching us and knowing us, knowing our sitting down and
our rising up, and comprehending all our thoughts afar off. At such
times the sense of our guilt, feebleness, dependence, usually comes on
us, full and strong. Must it not have been so with Saul? If the prospect
of kingly power was fitted to puff him up, the sense of God's nearness
to him was fitted to cast him down. What was he before God? An
insignificant worm, a guilty sinner, unworthy to be called God's son.

The whole susceptibilities of Saul were in a state of high excitement;
the sense of the Divine presence was on him, and for the moment a desire
to render to God some acknowledgment of all the mercy which had come
upon him. When the company of prophets met him coming down the hill,
"the Spirit of God came upon him, and he prophesied with them." When in
the Old Testament the Spirit of God is said to come on one, the meaning
is not always that He comes in regenerating and sanctifying grace. The
Spirit of God in Bezaleel, the son of Uri, made him cunning in all
manner of workmanship, to work in gold, and in silver, and in brass. The
Spirit of God, when He came upon Samson, magnified his physical
strength, and fitted him for the most wonderful feats. So the Spirit of
God, when He came on Saul, did not necessarily regenerate his being;
alas! in Saul's future life, there is only too much evidence of an
unchanged heart! Still it might be said of Saul that he was changed into
another man. Elevated by the prospect before him, but awed at the same
time by a sense of God's nearness, he had no heart for the pursuits in
which he would have engaged on his return home had no such change
occurred. In the mood of mind in which he was now, he could not look at
anything frivolous: his mind soared to higher things. When therefore he
met the company of prophets coming down the hill, he was impelled by the
surge of his feelings to join their company and take part in their song.
They were returning from the high place where they had been engaged in
worship, and now they seem to have been continuing the service, sounding
out the high praises of God, and thankfully remembering His mercies. It
was the same God who had so wonderfully drawn near to Saul, and
conferred on him privileges which were as exalted as they were
undeserved. No wonder the heart of Saul caught the infection, and threw
itself for the time into the service of praise! No young man could well
have resisted the impulse. Had he not been chosen out of all the ten
thousands of Israel for an honour and a function higher than any
Israelite had ever yet enjoyed? Ought he not, must he not, in all the
enthusiasm of profoundest wonder, extol the name of Him from whom so
suddenly, so unexpectedly, yet so assuredly, this marvellous favour had
come?

But it was an employment very different from what had hitherto been his
custom. That utter worldliness of mind which we have referred to as his
natural disposition would have made him scorn any such employment in his
ordinary mood as utterly alien to his feelings. Too often we see that
worldly-minded men not only have no relish for spiritual exercises, but
feel bitterly and scornfully toward those who affect them. The reason is
not far to seek. They know that religious men count them guilty of sin,
of great sin, in so neglecting the service of God. To be condemned,
whether openly or not, galls their pride, and sets them to disparage
those who have so low an opinion of them. It is not said that Saul had
felt bitterly toward religious men previous to this time. But whether
he did so or not, he appears to have kept aloof from them quite as much
as if he had. And now in his own city he appears among the prophets, as
if sharing their inspiration, and joining with them openly in the
praises of God. It is so strange a sight that every one is astonished.
"Saul among the prophets!" people exclaim. "Shall wonders ever cease?"
And yet Saul was not in his right place among the prophets. Saul was
like the stony ground seed in the parable of the sower. He had no depth
of root. His enthusiasm on this occasion was the result of forces that
did not work at the heart of his nature. It was the result of the new
and most remarkable situation in which he found himself, not of any new
principle of life, any principle that would involve a radical change. It
is a solemn fact that men may be worked on by outer forces so as to do
many things that seem to be acts of Divine service, but are not so
really. A man suddenly raised to a high and influential position feels
the influence of the change,--feels himself sobered and solemnized by
it, and for a time appears to live and act under higher considerations
than he used to acknowledge before. But when he gets used to his new
position, when the surprise has abated, and everything around him has
become normal to him, his old principles of action return. A young man
called suddenly to take the place of a most worthy and honoured father
feels the responsibility of wearing such a mantle, and struggles for a
time to fulfil his father's ideal. But ere long the novelty of his
position wears away, the thought of his father recurs less frequently,
and his old views and feelings resume their sway. Admission to the
fellowship of a Church which sustains a high repute may have at first
not only a restraining, but a stimulating and elevating effect, until,
the position becoming familiar to one, the emotions it first excited die
away. This risk is peculiarly incident to those who bear office in the
Church. Ordination to the ministry, or to any other spiritual office,
solemnizes one at first, even though one may not be truly converted, and
nerves one with strength and resolution to throw off many an evil habit.
But the solemn impression wanes with time, and the carnal nature asserts
its claims. How earnest and how particular men ought ever to be in
examining themselves whether their serious impressions are the effect of
a true change of nature, or whether they are not mere temporary
experiences, the casual result of external circumstances.

But how is this to be ascertained? Let us recall the test with which our
Lord has furnished us. "Not every one that saith unto Me, Lord, Lord,
shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that doeth the will of My
Father which is in heaven. Many will say unto Me in that day, Lord,
Lord, have we not prophesied in Thy name, and in Thy name have cast out
devils, and in Thy name have done many wonderful works? Then will I say
unto them, I never knew you; depart from Me, ye that work iniquity." The
real test is a changed will; a will no longer demanding that self be
pleased, but that God be pleased; a will yielding up everything to the
will of God; a will continually asking what is right and what is true,
not what will please me, or what will be a gain to me; a will
overpowered by the sense of what is due in nature to the Lord and Judge
of all, and of what is due in grace to Him that loved us and washed us
from our sins in His own blood. Have you thus surrendered yourselves to
God? At the heart and root of your nature is there the profound desire
to do what is well-pleasing in His sight? If so, then, even amid
abounding infirmities, you may hold that you are the child of God. But
if still the principle--silent, perhaps, and unavowed, but real--that
moves you and regulates your life be that of self-pleasing, any change
that may have occurred otherwise must have sprung only from outward
conditions, and the prayer needs to go out from you on the wings of
irrepressible desire, "Create in me a clean heart, O Lord, and renew a
right spirit within me."

Two things in this part of the chapter have yet to be adverted to. The
first is that somewhat mysterious question (ver. 12) which some one
asked on seeing Saul among the prophets--"But who is their father?"
Various explanations have been given of this question; but the most
natural seems to be, that it was designed to meet a reason for the
surprise felt at Saul being among the prophets--viz. that his father
Kish was a godless man. That consideration is irrelevant; for who, asks
this person, is the father of the prophets? The prophetic gift does not
depend on fatherhood. It is not by connection with their fathers that
the prophetic band enjoy their privileges. Why should not Saul be among
the prophets as well as any of them? Such men are born not of blood, nor
of the will of man, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God.

The other point remaining to be noticed is Saul's concealment from his
uncle of all that Samuel had said about the kingdom. It appears from
this both that Saul was yet of a modest, humble spirit, and perhaps that
his uncle would have made an unwise use of the information if he had got
it. It would be time enough for that to be known when God's way of
bringing it to pass should come. There is a time to speak and a time to
keep silence. Saul told enough to the uncle to establish belief in the
supernatural power of Samuel, but nothing to gratify mere curiosity.
Thus in many ways Saul commends himself to us in this chapter, and in no
way does he provoke our blame. He was like the young man in the Gospel
in whom our Lord found so much that was favourable. Alas, he was like
the young man also in the particular that made all the rest of little
effect--"One thing thou lackest."



CHAPTER XIV.

_SAUL CHOSEN KING._

1 SAMUEL x. 17-27.


When first the desire to have a king came to a height with the people,
they had the grace to go to Samuel, and endeavour to arrange the matter
through him. They did not, indeed, show much regard to his feelings;
rather they showed a sort of childlike helplessness, not appearing to
consider how much he would be hurt both by their virtual rejection of
his government, and by their blunt reference to the unworthy behaviour
of his sons. But it was a good thing that they came to Samuel at all.
They were not prepared to carry out their wishes by lawless violence;
they were not desirous to make use of the usual Oriental methods of
revolution--massacre and riot. It was so far well that they desired to
avail themselves of the peaceful instrumentality of Samuel. We have seen
how Samuel carried the matter to the Lord, and how the Lord yielded so
far to the wish of the nation as to permit them to have a king. And
Samuel having determined not to take offence, but to continue in
friendly relations to the people and do his utmost to turn the change to
the best possible account, now proceeds to superintend the business of
election. He summons the people to the Lord to Mizpeh; that is, he
convenes the heads of the various tribes to a meeting, which was not to
be counted a rough political convention, but a solemn religious
gathering in the very presence of the Lord. Either before the meeting,
or at the meeting, the principle must have been settled on which the
election was to be made. It was, however, not so much the people that
were to choose as God. The selection was to take place by lot. This
method was resorted to as the best fitted to show who was the object of
God's choice. There seems to have been no trace of difference of opinion
as to its being the right method of procedure.

But before the lot was actually cast, Samuel addressed to the assembly
one of those stern, terrible exposures of the spirit that had led to the
transaction which would surely have turned a less self-willed and
stiff-necked people from their purpose, and constrained them to revert
to their original economy. "Thus saith the Lord God of Israel: I brought
up Israel out of Egypt, and delivered you out of the hand of the
Egyptians, and out of the hand of all kingdoms, and of them that
oppressed you; and ye have this day rejected your God, who Himself saved
you out of all your adversities and your tribulations; and ye have said
unto Him, Nay, but set a king over us." How _could_ the people, we may
well ask, get over this? How could they prefer an earthly king to a
heavenly? What possible benefit worth naming could accrue to them from a
transaction dishonouring to the Lord of heaven, which, if it did not
make Him their enemy, could not but chill His interest in them?

Perhaps, however, we may wonder less at the behaviour of the Israelites
on this occasion if we bear in mind how often the same offence is
committed, and with how little thought and consideration, at the
present day. To begin with, take the case--and it is a very common
one--of those who have been dedicated to God in baptism, but who cast
their baptismal covenant to the winds. The time comes when the
provisional dedication to the Lord should be followed up by an actual
and hearty consecration of themselves. Failing that, what can be said of
them but that they reject God as their King? And with what want of
concern is this often done, and sometimes in the face of remonstrances,
as, for instance, by the many young men in our congregations who allow
the time for decision to pass without ever presenting themselves to the
Church as desirous to take on them the yoke of Christ! A moment's
thought might show them that if they do not actively join themselves to
Christ, they virtually sever themselves from Him. If I make a
provisional bargain with any one to last for a short time, and at the
end of that time take no steps to renew it, I actually renounce it. Not
to renew the covenant of baptism, when years of discretion have been
reached, is virtually to break it off. Much consideration must be had
for the consciousness of unworthiness, but even that is not a sufficient
reason, because our worthiness can never come from what we are in
ourselves, but from our faith in Him who alone can supply us with the
wedding garment.

Then there are those who reject God in a more outrageous form. There are
those who plunge boldly into the stream of sin, or into the stream of
worldly enjoyment, determined to lead a life of pleasure, let the
consequences be what they may. As to religion, it is nothing to them,
except a subject of ridicule on the part of those who affect it.
Morality--well, if it fall within the fashion of the world, it must be
respected; otherwise let it go to the winds. God, heaven, hell,--they
are mere bugbears to frighten the timid and superstitious. Not only is
God rejected, but He is defied. Not only are His blessing, His
protection, His gracious guidance scorned, but the devil, or the world,
or the flesh is openly elevated to His throne. Yet men and women too can
go on through years of life utterly unconcerned at the slight they offer
to God, and unmoved by any warning that may come to them "Who is the
Almighty that we should serve Him? And what profit shall we have if we
bow down before Him?" Their attitude reminds us of the answer of the
persecutor, when the widow of his murdered victim protested that he
would have to answer both to man and to God for the deed of that day.
"To man," he said, "I can easily answer; and as for God, I will take Him
in my own hands."

But there is still another class against whom the charge of rejecting
God may be made. Not, indeed, in the same sense or to the same degree,
but with one element of guilt which does not attach to the others,
inasmuch as they have known what it is to have God for their King. I
advert to certain Christian men and women who in their early days were
marked by much earnestness of spirit, but having risen in the world,
have fallen back from their first attainments, and have more or less
accepted the world's law. Perhaps it was of their poorer days that God
had cause to remember "the kindness of their youth and the love of their
espousals." Then they were earnest in their devotions, full of interest
in Christian work, eager to grow in grace and in all the qualities of a
Christlike character. But as they grew in wealth, and rose in the
world, a change came o'er the spirit of their dream. They must have fine
houses and equipages, and give grand entertainments, and cultivate the
acquaintance of this great family and that, and get a recognized
position among their fellows. Gradually their life comes to be swayed by
considerations they never would have thought of in early days. Gradually
the strict rules by which they used to live are relaxed, and an easier
and more accommodating attitude towards the world is taken up. And as
surely the glow of their spiritual feelings cools down; the charm of
their spiritual enjoyments goes off; the blessed hope, even the glorious
appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ, fades away; and one scheme after
another of worldly advancement and enjoyment occupies their minds. What
glamour has passed over their souls to obliterate the surpassing glory
of Jesus Christ, the image of the invisible God? What evil spell has
robbed the Cross of its holy influence, and made them so indifferent to
the Son of God, who loved them and gave Himself for them? Is the gate of
heaven changed, that they no longer care to linger at it, as in better
times they used so fondly to do? No. But they have left their first
love; they have gone away after idols; they have been caught in the
snares of the god of this world. In so far, they have rejected their God
that saved them out of all their adversities and tribulations; and if
they go on to do so after solemn warning, their guilt will be like the
guilt of Israel, and the day must come when "their own wickedness shall
correct them, and their backslidings shall reprove them."

But let us come back to the election. The first lot was cast between the
twelve tribes, and it fell on Benjamin. The next lot was cast between
the families of Benjamin, and it fell on the family of Matri; and when
they came to closer quarters, as it were, the lot fell on Saul, the son
of Kish. Again we see how the most casual events are all under
government, and conspire to accomplish the purpose of Him who worketh
all things after the counsel of His own will. "The lot is cast into the
lap; but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord."

No doubt Saul had anticipated this consummation. He had had too many
supernatural evidences to the same effect to have any lingering doubt
what would be the result of the lot. But it was too much for him. He hid
himself, and could not be found. And we do not think the worse of him
for this, but rather the better. It is one of the many favourable traits
that we find at the outset of his kingly career. However pleasant it
might be to ruminate on the privileges and honours of royalty, it was a
serious thing to undertake the leadership of a great nation. In this
respect, Saul shared the feeling that constrained Moses to shrink back
when he was appointed to deliver Israel from Egypt, and that constrained
Jeremiah to remonstrate when he was appointed a prophet unto the
nations. Many of the best ministers of Christ have had this feeling when
they were called to the Christian ministry. Gregory Nazianzen actually
fled to the wilderness after his ordination, and Ambrose, Bishop of
Milan, in the civil office which he held, tried to turn the people from
their choice even by acts of cruelty and severity, after they had called
on him to become their bishop.

But, besides the natural shrinking of Saul from so responsible an
office, we may believe that he was not unmoved by the solemn
representation of Samuel that in their determination to have a human
king the people had been guilty of rejecting God. This may have been
the first time that that view of the matter seriously impressed itself
on his mind. Even though it was accompanied by the qualification that
God in a sense sanctioned the new arrangement, and though the use of the
lot would indicate God's choice, Saul might well have been staggered by
the thought that in electing a king the people had rejected God. Even
though his mind was not a spiritual mind, there was something frightful
in the very idea of a man stepping, so to speak, into God's place. No
wonder then though he hid himself! Perhaps he thought that when he could
not be found the choice would fall on some one else. But no. An appeal
was again made to God, and God directly indicated Saul, and indicated
his place of concealment. The stuff or baggage among which Saul was hid
was the collection of packages which the people would naturally bring
with them, and which it was the custom to pile up, often as a rampart or
defence, while the assembly lasted. We can fancy the scene when, the
pile of baggage being indicated as the hiding-place, the people rushed
to search among it, knocking the contents asunder very unceremoniously,
until Saul was at length discovered. From his inglorious place of
retreat the king was now brought out, looking no doubt awkward and
foolish, yet with that commanding figure which seemed so suitable for
his new dignity. And his first encouragement was the shout of the
people--"God save the king!" How strange and quick the transition! A
minute ago he was safe in his hiding-place, wondering whether some one
else might not get the office. Now the shouts of the people indicate
that all is settled. King of Israel he is henceforward to be.

Three incidents are recorded towards the end of the chapter as throwing
light on the great event of the day. In the first place, "Samuel told
the people the manner of the kingdom, and wrote it in a book, and laid
it up before the Lord." This was another means taken by the faithful
prophet to secure that this new step should if possible be for good, and
not for evil. It was a new protest against assimilating the kingdom of
Israel to the other kingdoms around. No! although Jehovah was no longer
King in the sense in which He had been, His covenant and His law were
still binding, and must be observed in Israel to their remotest
generation. No change could repeal the law of the ten words given amid
the thunders of Sinai. No change could annul the promise to Abraham, "In
thee and in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed." No
change could reverse that mode of approach to a holy God which had been
ordained for the sinner--through the shedding of atoning blood. The
destiny of Israel was not changed, as the medium of God's communications
to the world on the most vital of all subjects in which sinners could be
interested. And king though he was, Saul would find that there was no
way of securing the true prosperity of his kingdom but by ruling it in
the fear of God, and with the highest regard to His will and pleasure;
while nothing was so sure to drive it to ruin, as to depart from the
Divine prescription, and plunge into the ways that were common among the
heathen.

The next circumstance mentioned in the history is, that when the people
dispersed, and when Saul returned to his home at Gibeah, "there went
with him a band of men, whose hearts God had touched." They were induced
to form a bodyguard for the new king, and they did so under no physical
constraint from him or any one else, but because they were moved to do
it from sympathy, from the desire to help him and be of service to him
in the new position to which he had been raised. Here was a remarkable
encouragement. A friend in need is a friend indeed. Could there have
been any time when Saul was more in need of friends? How happy a thing
it was that he did not need to go and search for them; they came to him
with their willing service. And what a happy start it was for him in his
new office that these helpers were at hand to serve him! A band of
willing helpers around one takes off more than half the difficulty of a
difficult enterprise. Men that enter into one's plans, that sympathize
with one's aims, that are ready to share one's burdens, that anticipate
one's wishes, are of priceless value in any business. But they are of
especial value in the Church of Christ. One of the first things our Lord
did after entering on His public ministry was to call to Himself the
twelve, who were to be His staff, His ready helpers wherever they were
able to give help. Is it not the joy of the Christian minister, as he
takes up his charge, if there go with him a band of men whose hearts God
has touched? How lonely and how hard is the ministry if there be no such
men to help! How different when efficient volunteers are there, in
readiness for the Sunday-school, and the Band of hope, and the
missionary society, and the congregational choir, and for visiting the
sick, and every other service of Christian love! Congregations ought to
feel that it cannot be right to leave all the work to their minister.
What kind of battle would it be if all the fighting were left to the
officer in command? Let the members of congregations ever bear in mind
that it is their duty and their privilege to help in the work. If we
wish to see the picture of a prosperous Apostolic Church, let us study
the last chapter of the Epistle to the Romans. The glory of the
primitive Church of Rome was that it abounded in men and women whose
hearts God had touched, and who "laboured much in the Lord."

Do any of us shrink from such work? Are any willing to pray for God's
work, but unwilling to take part in it personally? Such a state of mind
cannot but suggest the question, Has the Lord touched your hearts? The
expression is a very significant one. It implies that one touch of God's
hand, one breathing of His Spirit, can effect such a change that what
was formerly ungenial becomes agreeable; a vital principle is imparted
to the heart. Life can come only from the fountain of life. Hearts can
be quickened only by the living Spirit of God. In vain shall we try to
serve Him until our hearts are touched by His Spirit. Would that that
Spirit were poured forth so abundantly that "one should say, I am the
Lord's, and another should call himself by the name of Jacob, and
another should subscribe with his hand to the Lord, and surname himself
with the name of Israel"!

The last thing to be noticed is the difference of feeling toward Saul
among the people. While he was received cordially by most, there was a
section that despised him, that scorned the idea of his delivering the
nation, and, in token of their contempt, brought him no presents. They
are called the children of Belial. It was not that they regarded his
election as an invasion of the ancient constitution of the country, as
an interference with the sovereign rights of Jehovah, but that, in their
pride, they refused to submit to him; they would not have him for their
king. The tokens of Divine authority--the sanction of Samuel, the use
of the lot, and the other proofs that what was done at Mizpeh had been
ratified in heaven--made no impression upon them. We are told of Saul
that he held his peace; he would rather refute them by deeds than by
words; he would let it be seen, when the opportunity offered, whether he
could render any service to the nation or not. But does not this ominous
fact, recorded at the very threshold of Saul's reign, at the very time
when it became so apparent that he was the Lord's anointed, suggest to
our minds a corresponding fact, in reference to One who is the Lord's
Anointed in a higher sense? Is there not in many a disposition to say
even of the Lord Jesus Christ, "How shall this man save us"? Do not many
rob the Lord Jesus Christ of His saving power, reducing Him to the level
of a mere teacher, denying that He shed His blood to take away sin? And
are there not others who refuse their homage to the Lord from sheer
self-dependence and pride? They have never been convinced of their sins,
never shared the publican's feeling, but rather been disposed to boast,
like the Pharisee, that they were not like other men. And is not Christ
still to many as a root out of a dry ground, without form or comeliness
wherefore they should desire Him? Oh for the spirit of wisdom and
illumination in the knowledge of Him! Oh that, the eyes of our
understandings being enlightened, we might all see Jesus fairer than the
children of men, the chief among ten thousand, yea altogether lovely;
and that, instead of our manifesting any unwillingness to acknowledge
Him and follow Him, the language of our hearts might be, "Whom have we
in heaven but Thee? and there is none on the earth that we desire
besides Thee." "Entreat us not to leave Thee, nor to return from
following after Thee; for where Thou goest we will go, and where Thou
lodgest we will lodge; Thy people shall be our people," and Thou Thyself
our Lord and our God.



CHAPTER XV.

_THE RELIEF OF JABESH-GILEAD._

1 SAMUEL xi.


Primitive though the state of society was in those days in Israel, we
are hardly prepared to find Saul following the herd in the field after
his election as king of Israel. We are compelled to conclude that the
opposition to him was far from contemptible in number and in influence,
and that he found it expedient in the meantime to make no demonstration
of royalty, but continue his old way of life. If we go back to the days
of Abimelech, the son of Gideon, we get a vivid view of the awful crimes
which even an Israelite could commit, under the influence of jealousy,
when other persons stood in the way of his ambitious designs. It is
quite conceivable that had Saul at once assumed the style and title of
royalty, those children of Belial who were so contemptuous at his
election would have made away with him. Human life was of so little
value in those Eastern countries, and the crime of destroying it was so
little thought of, that if Saul had in any way provoked hostility, he
would have been almost certain to fall by some assassin's hand. It was
therefore wise of him to continue for a time his old way of living, and
wait for some opportunity which should arise providentially, to
vindicate his title to the sceptre of Israel.

Apparently he had not to wait long--according to Josephus, only a month.
The opportunity arose in a somewhat out-of-the-way part of the country,
where disturbance had been brewing previous to his election (comp. xii.
12). It was not the first time that the inhabitants of Gilead and other
dwellers on the east side of Jordan came to feel that in settling there
they had to pay dear for their well-watered and well-sheltered pastures.
They were exposed in an especial degree to the assaults of enemies, and
pre-eminent among these were their cousins, the Ammonites. Very probably
the Ammonites had never forgotten the humiliation inflicted on them by
Jephthah, when he smote them "from Aroer, even till thou come to
Minnith, even twenty cities, and till thou come to the plain of the
vineyards, with a very great slaughter." Naturally the Ammonites would
be desirous both to avenge these defeats and to regain their cities, or
at least to get other cities in lieu of what they had lost. We do not
know with certainty the site of Jabesh-Gilead, or the reasons why it was
the special object of attack by King Nahash at this time. But so it was;
and as the people of Jabesh-Gilead either knew not or cared not for
their real defence, the God of Israel, they found themselves too hard
bestead by the Ammonites, and, exhausted probably by the weary siege,
proposed terms of capitulation.

This is the first scene in the chapter before us. "The men of Jabesh
said to Nahash, king of the Ammonites, Make a covenant with us, and we
will serve thee." The history of the Israelites in time of danger
commonly presents one or other of two extremes: either pusillanimous
submission, or daring defiance to the hostile power. In this case it was
pusillanimous submission, as indeed it commonly was when the people
followed the motions of their own hearts, and were not electrified into
opposition by some great hero, full of faith in God. But it was not mere
cowardice they displayed in offering to become the servants of the
Ammonites; there was impiety in it likewise. For of their relation to
God they made no account whatever. By covenant with their fathers,
ratified from generation to generation, they were God's servants, and
they had no right voluntarily to transfer to another master the
allegiance which was due to God alone. The proposal they made was
virtually a breach of the first commandment. And it was not a case of
necessity. Instead of humbling themselves before God and confessing the
sins that had brought them into trouble, they put God altogether aside,
and basely offered to become the servants of the Ammonites. Even the
remembrance of the glorious victories of their own Jephthah, when he
went to war with the Ammonites, in dependence on the God of Israel,
seems to have had no effect in turning them from the inglorious
proposal. We see here the sad effect of sin and careless living in
lowering men's spirits, sapping courage, and discouraging noble effort.
Oh, it is pitiable to see men tamely submitting to a vile master! Yet
how often is the sight repeated! How often do men virtually say to the
devil, "Make a covenant with us, and we will serve thee"! Not indeed in
the open way in which it used to be believed that one of the popes,
before his elevation to the papal chair, formally sold his soul to the
devil in exchange for that dignity. Yet how often do men virtually give
themselves over to serve a vile master, to lead evil or at least
careless lives, to indulge in sinful habits which they know they should
overcome, but which they are too indolent and self-indulged to resist!
Men and women, with strong proclivities to sin, may for a time resist,
but they get tired of the battle; they long for an easier life, and they
say in their hearts, "We will resist no longer; we will become your
servants." They are willing to make peace with the Ammonites, because
they are wearied of fighting. "Anything for a quiet life!" They
surrender to the enemy, they are willing to serve sin, because they will
not surrender the ease and the pleasures of sin.

But sin is a bad master; his wages are terrible to think of. The terms
which Nahash offered to the men of Jabesh-Gilead combined insult and
injury. "On this condition will I make a covenant with you: that I may
thrust out all your right eyes, and lay it for a reproach unto all
Israel." "The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel." There is nothing
in which the pernicious influence of paganism was more notorious in
ancient times--and indeed, we may say, is more notorious in all
times--than in the horrible cruelties to which it led. Barbarity was the
very element in which it lived. And that barbarity was often exemplified
in cruelly depriving enemies of those members and organs of the body
which are most needful for the comfort of life. The hands and the eyes
were especially the victims of this diabolical feeling. Just as you may
see at this day in certain African villages miserable creatures without
hands or eyes who have fallen under the displeasure of their chief and
received this revolting treatment, so it was in those early times. But
Nahash was comparatively merciful. He was willing to let the men of
Jabesh off with the loss of one eye only. But as if to compensate for
this forbearance, he declared that he would regard the transaction as a
reproach upon all Israel. The mutilated condition of that poor one-eyed
community would be a ground for despising the whole nation; it would be
a token of the humiliation and degradation of the whole Israelite
community. These were the terms of Nahash. His favour could be purchased
only by a cruel injury to every man's body and a stinging insult to
their whole nation. But these terms were just too humiliating. Whether
the men of Jabesh would have been willing to lose their eyes as the
price of peace we do not know; but the proposed humiliation of the
nation was something to which they were not prepared at once to submit.
The nation itself should look to that. The nation should consider
whether it was prepared to be thus insulted by the humiliation of one of
its cities. Consequently they asked for a week's respite, that it might
be seen whether the nation would not bestir itself to maintain its
honour.

If we regard Nahash as a type of another tyrant, as representing the
tyranny of sin, we may derive from his conditions an illustration of the
hard terms which sin usually imposes. "The way of transgressors is
hard." Oh, what untold misery does one act of sin often bring! One act
of drunkenness, in which one is led to commit some crime of violence
that would never have been dreamt of otherwise; one act of dishonesty,
followed up by a course of deceit and double-dealing, that at last
culminates in disgrace and ruin; one act of unchastity, leading to loss
of character and to a downward career ending in utter darkness,--how
frightful is the retribution! But happy is the young person, when under
temptation to the service of sin, if there comes to him at the very
threshold some frightful experience of the hardness of the service, if,
like the men of Jabesh-Gilead, he is made to feel that the loss and
humiliation are beyond endurance, and to betake himself to the service
of another Master, whose yoke is easy, whose burden is light, and whose
rewards are more precious than silver and gold!

With the activity of despair, the men of Jabesh now publish throughout
all Israel the terms that Nahash has offered them. At Gibeah of Saul a
deep impression is made. But it is not the kind of impression that gives
much hope. "All the people lifted up their voices and wept." It was just
the way in which their forefathers had acted at the Red Sea, when, shut
in between the mountains and the sea, they saw the chariots of Pharaoh
advancing in battle array against them; and again, it was the way in
which they spent that night in the wilderness after the spies brought
back their report of the land. It was a sorrowful sight--a whole mass of
people crying like babies, panic-stricken, and utterly helpless. But, as
in the two earlier cases, there was a man of faith to roll back the wave
of panic. As Moses at the Red Sea got courage to go forward, as Caleb,
the faithful spy, was able to resist all the clamour of his colleagues
and the people, so on this occasion the spirit that rises above the
storm, and flings defiance even on the strongest enemies, came mightily
on one man--on Saul. His conduct at this time is another evidence how
well he conducted himself in the opening period of his reign. "The
Spirit of the Lord came upon Saul when he heard the tidings, and his
anger was kindled greatly." The Spirit of the Lord evidently means here
that spirit of courage, of noble energy, of dauntless resolution, which
was needed to meet the emergency that had arisen. His first act was a
symbolical one, very rough in its nature, but an act of the kind that
was best fitted to make an impression on an Eastern people. A yoke of
oxen was hewn in pieces, and the bloody fragments were sent by
messengers throughout all Israel, with a thundering announcement that
any one failing to follow Saul would have his own oxen dealt with in a
similar fashion! It was a bold proclamation for a man to make who
himself had just been following his herd in the field. But boldness,
even audacity, is often the best policy. The thundering proclamation of
Saul brought an immense muster of people to him. A sufficient portion of
them would set out with the king, hastening down the passes to the
Jordan valley, and having crossed the river, would bivouac for the night
in some of the ravines that led up towards the city of Jabesh-Gilead.
Messengers had been previously pushed forward to announce to the people
there the approach of the relieving force. Long before daybreak, Saul
had divided his force into three, who were to approach the beleaguered
city by different roads and surprise the Ammonites by break of day. The
plan was successfully carried out. The assault on the Ammonite army was
made in the morning watch, and continued till midday. It was now the
turn for the Ammonites to fall under panic. Their assailants seem to
have found them entirely unprepared. There is nothing with which the
undisciplined ranks of an Eastern horde are less able to cope than an
unexpected attack. The defeat was complete, and the slaughter must have
been terrific; and "it came to pass that they which remained of them
were scattered, so that two of them were not left together." The men of
Jabesh-Gilead, who had expected to spend that night in humiliation and
anguish, would be sure to spend it in a very tumult of joy, perhaps
rather in a wild excitement than in the calm but intensely relieved
condition of men of whom the sorrows of death had taken hold, but whom
the Lord had delivered out of all their distresses.

It is no wonder though the people were delighted with their king. From
first to last he had conducted himself admirably. He had not delayed an
hour in taking the proper steps. Though wearied probably with his day's
work among the herd, he set about the necessary arrangements with the
utmost promptitude. It was a serious undertaking: first, to rouse to the
necessary pitch a people who were more disposed to weep and wring their
hands, than to keep their heads and devise a way of escape in the hour
of danger; second, to gather a sufficient army to his standard; third,
to march across the Jordan, attack the foe, confident and well equipped,
and deliver the beleaguered city. But dangers and difficulties only
roused Saul to higher exertions. And now, when in one short week he has
completed an enterprise worthy to rank among the highest in the history
of the nation, it is no wonder that the satisfaction of the people
reaches an enthusiastic pitch. It would have been unaccountable had it
been otherwise. And it is no wonder that their thoughts revert to the
men who had stood in the way of his occupying the throne. Here is
another proof that the opposition was more serious and more deadly than
at first appears. These men were far from contemptible. Even now they
might be a serious trouble to the nation. Would it not be good policy to
get rid of them at once? Did they not deserve to die, and ought they not
at once to be put to death? It is not likely that if this question had
been mooted in the like circumstances in any of the neighbouring
kingdoms, there would have been a moment's hesitation in answering it.
But Saul was full of a magnanimous spirit--nay, it seemed at the time a
godly spirit. His mind was impressed with the fact that the deliverance
of that day had come from God. And it was impressed at the same time
with the grandeur and sublimity of the Divine power that had been
brought into operation on behalf of Israel. Saul perceived a tremendous
reality in the fact that "the Lord was their defence; the Holy One of
Israel was their King." If Israel was encircled by such a garrison, if
Israel's king was under such a Protector, what need he fear from a gang
of miscreants like these children of Belial? Why dim the glory of the
day by an act of needless massacre? Let forbearance to these misguided
villains be another proof of the respect the nation had to the God of
Jacob, as the Defender of Israel and Israel's King, and the certainty of
their trust that He would defend them. And so "Saul said, There shall
not a man be put to death this day; for to-day the Lord hath wrought
salvation in Israel."

O Saul, Saul, how well for thee it would have been hadst thou maintained
this spirit! For then God would not have had to reject thee from being
king, and to seek among the sheepfolds of Bethlehem a man after His own
heart to be the leader of His people! And then thou wouldest have had no
fear for the security of thy throne; thou wouldest not have hunted thy
rival like a partridge on the mountains; and never, never wouldest thou
have been tempted, in thy difficulties, to seek counsel from a woman
with a familiar spirit, on the plea that God was departed from thee!

As we are thinking how well Saul has acted on this occasion, we perceive
that an old friend has come on the scene who helps us materially to
understand the situation. Yes, he is all the better of Samuel's
guidance and prayers. The good old prophet has no jealousy of the man
who took his place as head of the nation. But knowing well the
fickleness of the people, he is anxious to turn the occasion to account
for confirming their feelings and their aims. Seeing how the king has
acknowledged God as the Author of the victory, he desires to strike
while the iron is hot. "Come," he says, "let us go to Gilgal, and renew
the kingdom there." Gilgal was the first place where the people had
encamped under Joshua on crossing the Jordan. It was the place where the
twelve stones taken from the empty bed of the river had been set up, as
a testimony to the reality of the Divine presence in the midst of them.
In some aspects, one might have thought that Samuel would invite them to
Ebenezer, where he had set up the stone of help, and that he would add
another testimony to the record that hitherto the Lord had helped them.
But Gilgal was nearer to Jabesh-Gilead, and it was memorable for still
higher traditions. To Gilgal accordingly they went, to renew the
kingdom. "And there they made Saul king before the Lord in Gilgal, and
there they sacrificed sacrifices of peace-offerings before the Lord, and
there Saul and all the men of Israel rejoiced greatly."

The first election of Saul had been effected without any ceremonial, as
if the people had been somewhat afraid to have a public coronation when
it was obvious they had carried their point only by Divine sufferance,
not by Divine command. But now, unequivocal testimony has been borne
that, so long as Saul pays becoming regard to the heavenly King, the
blessing and countenance of the Almighty will be his. Let him then be
set apart with all due enthusiasm for his exalted office. Let his
consecration take place in the most solemn circumstances--let it be
"before the Lord in Gilgal;" let it be accompanied with those sacrifices
of peace-offerings which shall indicate respect for God's appointed
method of reconciliation; and let it be conducted with such devout
regard to Him and to His law, that when it is over, the Divine blessing
shall seem to fall on Saul in the old form of benediction, "The Lord
bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make His face to shine on thee and be
gracious to thee; the Lord lift up His countenance on thee and give thee
peace." Let the impression be deepened that "the God of Israel is He
that giveth strength and power unto His people." Saul himself will not
be the worse for having these feelings confirmed, and it will be of the
highest benefit to the people.

And thus, under Samuel's guidance, the kingdom was renewed. Thus did
both Saul and the people give unto the Lord the glory due to His name.
And engaging in the ceremonial as they all did in this spirit, "both
Saul and all the men of Israel rejoiced greatly." It was, perhaps, the
happiest occasion in all the reign of Saul. What contributed the chief
element of brightness to the occasion was--the sunshine of Heaven. God
was there, smiling on His children. There were other elements too.
Samuel was there, happy that Saul had conquered, that he had established
himself upon the throne, and, above all, that he had, in a right noble
way, acknowledged God as the Author of the victory at Jabesh-Gilead.
Saul was there, reaping the reward of his humility, his forbearance, his
courage, and his activity. The people were there, proud of their king,
proud of his magnificent appearance, but prouder of the super-eminent
qualities that had marked the commencement of his reign. Nor was the
pleasure of any one marred by any ugly blot or unworthy deed throwing a
gloom over the transaction.

For one moment, let us compare the joy of this company with the feelings
of men revelling in the pleasures of sin and sensuality, or even of men
storing a pile of gold, the result of some successful venture or the
legacy of some deceased relative. How poor the quality of the one joy
compared to that of the other! For what is there outside themselves that
can make men so happy as the smile of God? Or what condition of the soul
can be so full, so overflowing with healthy gladness, as when the heart
is ordered in accordance with God's law, and men are really disposed and
enabled to love the Lord their God with all their heart, and to love
their neighbours as themselves?

Is there not something of heaven in this joy? Is it not joy unspeakable
and full of glory?

One other question: Is it _yours_?



CHAPTER XVI.

_SAMUEL'S VINDICATION OF HIMSELF._

1 SAMUEL xii. 1-5.


It was a different audience that Samuel had to address at Gilgal from
either that which came to him to Ramah to ask for a king, or that which
assembled at Mizpeh to elect one. To both of these assemblies he had
solemnly conveyed his warning against the act of distrust in God implied
in their wishing for a king at all, and against any disposition they
might feel, when they got a king, to pay less attention than before to
God's will and covenant. The present audience represented the army,
undoubtedly a great multitude, that had gone forth with Saul to relieve
Jabesh-Gilead, and that now came with Samuel to Gilgal to renew the
kingdom. As the audience now seems to have been larger, so it very
probably represented more fully the whole of the twelve tribes of
Israel. This may explain to us why Samuel not only returned to the
subject on which he had spoken so earnestly before, but enlarged on it
at greater length, and appealed with more fulness to his own past life
as giving weight to the counsels which he pressed upon them. Besides
this, the recognition of Saul as king at Gilgal was more formal, more
hearty, and more unanimous than at Mizpeh, and the institution of
royalty was now more an established and settled affair. No doubt, too,
Samuel felt that, after the victory at Jabesh-Gilead, he had the people
in a much more impressible condition than they had been in before; and
while their minds were thus so open to impression, it was his duty to
urge on them to the very uttermost the truths that bore on their most
vital well-being.

The address of Samuel on this occasion bore on three things: 1 his own
personal relations to them in the past (vers. 1-5); 2 the mode of God's
dealing with their fathers, and its bearing on the step now taken (vers.
6-12); and 3 the way in which God's judgments might be averted and His
favour and friendship secured to the nation in all time coming (vers.
13-25).

1. The reason why Samuel makes such explicit reference to his past life
and such a strong appeal to the people as to its blameless character is,
that he may establish a powerful claim for the favourable consideration
of the advice which he is about to give them. The value of an advice no
doubt depends simply on its own intrinsic excellence, but the _effect_
of an advice depends partly on other things; it depends, to a great
extent, on the disposition of people to think favourably of the person
by whom the advice is given. If you have reason to suspect an adviser of
a selfish purpose, if you know him to be a man who can plausibly
represent that the course which he urges will be a great benefit to you,
while in reality he has no real regard for any interest but his own,
then, let him argue as he pleases, you do not allow yourselves to be
moved by anything he may say. But if you have good cause to know that he
is a disinterested man, if he has never shown himself to be selfish, but
uniformly devoted to the interests of others, and especially of
yourselves, you feel that what such a man urges comes home to you with
extraordinary weight. Now, the great object of Samuel in his reference
to his past life was to bring the weight of this consideration to bear
in favour of the advice he was to give to the people. For he could
appeal to them with the greatest confidence as to his absolute
disinterestedness. He could show that, with ever so many opportunities
of acting a selfish part, no man could accuse him of having ever been
guilty of crooked conduct in all his relations to the people. He could
establish from their own mouths the position that he was as thoroughly
devoted to the interests of the nation as any man could be. And
therefore he called on them to give their most favourable and their most
earnest attention to the advice which he was about to press on them, the
more so that he was most profoundly convinced that the very existence of
the nation in days to come depended on its being complied with.

The first consideration he urged was, that he had listened to their
voice in making them a king. He had not obstructed nor baulked them in
their strong feeling, though he might reasonably enough have done so. He
had felt the proposal keenly as a reflection on himself, but he had
waived that objection and gone on. He had regarded it as a slur on the
Almighty, but the Almighty Himself had been pleased to forgive it, and
he had transacted with Him on their behalf in the same way as before.
Nothing that he had done in this matter could have an unfriendly aspect
put on it. He had made the best of an objectionable proposal; and now
they had not only got their wish, but along with it, objectionable
though it was, a measure of the sanction of God. "And now, behold, the
king walketh before you."

In the next place, Samuel adverts to his age. "I am old and grey-headed;
and, behold, my sons are with you, and I have walked before you from my
childhood unto this day." You have had abundant opportunities to know
me, and my manner of life. You know how I began, and you know how I have
gone on, till now the circle of my years is nearly completed; a new
generation has grown up; my sons are your contemporaries; I am old and
grey-headed. You know how my childhood was spent in God's house in
Shiloh, how God called me to be His prophet, and how I have gone on in
that exalted office, trying ever to be faithful to Him that called me.
What Samuel delicately points to here is the uniformity of his life. He
had not begun on one line, then changed to another. He had not seesawed
nor zigzagged, one thing at one time, another at another; but from
infancy to grey hairs he had kept steadfastly to the same course, he had
ever served the same Master. Such steadiness and uniformity throughout a
long life genders a wonderful weight of character. The man that has
borne an honoured name through all the changes and temptations of life,
through youth and middle age, and even to hoar hairs, that has served
all that time under the same banner and never brought discredit on it,
has earned a title to no ordinary esteem. It is this that forms the true
glory of old age. Men instinctively pay honour to the hoary head when it
represents a career of uniform and consistent integrity; and Christian
men honour it all the more when it represents a lifetime of Christian
activity and self-denial. Examine the ground of this reverence, and you
will find it to be this: such a mature and consistent character could
never have been attained but for many a struggle, in early life, of duty
against inclination, and many a victory of the higher principle over
the lower, till at length the habit of well-doing was so established,
that further struggles were hardly ever needed. Men think of him as one
who has silently but steadily yielded up the baser desires of his nature
all through his life to give effect to the higher and the nobler. They
think of him as one who has sought all through life to give that honour
to the will of God in which possibly they have felt themselves sadly
deficient, and to encourage among their fellow-men, at much cost of
self-denial, those ways of life which inflict no damage on our nature
and bring a serene peace and satisfaction. Of such a mode of life,
Samuel was an admirable representative. Men of that stamp are the true
nobles of a community. Loyal to God and faithful to man; denying
themselves and labouring to diffuse the spirit of all true happiness and
prosperity; visiting the fatherless and the widows in their affliction,
and keeping themselves unspotted by the world--happy the community whose
quiver is full of them! Happy the Church, happy the country, that
abounds in such worthies!--men, as Thomas Carlyle said of his peasant
Christian father, of whom one should be prouder in one's pedigree than
of dukes or kings, for what is the glory of mere rank or accidental
station compared to the glory of Godlike qualities, and of a character
which reflects the image of God Himself?

The third point to which Samuel adverts is his freedom from all acts of
unjust exaction or oppression, and from all those corrupt practices in
the administration of justice which were so common in Eastern countries.
"Behold, here I am; witness against me before the Lord and before His
anointed; whose ox have I taken? or whose ass have I taken? or whom
have I defrauded? whom have I oppressed? or of whose hand have I
received any bribe to blind mine eyes therewith? and I will restore it
to you." It was no small matter to be able to make this challenge, which
is as fearless in tone as it is comprehensive in range, in the very
midst of such a sea of corruption as the neighbouring kingdoms of the
East presented. It would seem as if, down to this day, the people in
most of these despotic countries had never known any other _régime_ but
one of unjust exaction and oppression. We have seen, in an earlier
chapter of this book, how shamefully the very priests abused the
privilege of their sacred office to appropriate to themselves the
offerings of God. In the days of our Lord and John the Baptist, what was
it that rendered "the publicans" so odious but that their exactions went
beyond the limits of justice and decency alike? Even to this day, the
same system prevails as corrupt as ever. I have heard from an excellent
American missionary a tale of a court of justice that came within his
experience, even at a conspicuous place like Beirut, that shows that
without bribery it is hardly possible to get a decision on the proper
side. A claim had been made to a piece of land which he had purchased
for his mission, and as he refused to pay what on the very face of it
was obviously unjust, he was summoned before the magistrate. The delays
that took place in dealing with the case were alike needless and
vexatious, but the explanation came in a message from the authorities,
slily conveyed to him, that the wheels of justice would move much faster
if they were duly oiled with a little American gold. To such a proposal
he would not listen for a moment, and it was only by threatening an
exposure before the higher powers that the decision was at last given
where really there was not the shadow of a claim against him. From the
same source I got an illustration of the exactions that are made to this
day in the payment of taxes. The law provides that of the produce of the
land one tenth shall belong to the Government for the public service.
There is an officer whose duty it is to examine the produce of every
farm, and carry off the share that the Government are entitled to. The
farmer is not allowed to do anything with his produce till this officer
has obtained the Government share. After harvest the farmers of a
district will send word to the officer that their produce is ready, and
invite him to come and take his tenth. The officer will return word that
he is very busy, and will not be able to come for a month. The delay of
a month would entail incalculable loss and inconvenience on the farmers.
They know the situation well; and they send a deputation of their number
to say that if he will only come at once, they are willing to give him
two tenths instead of one, the second tenth being for his own use. But
this too they are assured that he cannot do. And there is nothing for
them but to remain with him higgling and bargaining, till at last
perhaps, in utter despair, they promise him a proportion which will
leave no more than the half available for themselves.

And these are not exceptional instances--they are the common experiences
of Eastern countries, at least in the Turkish empire. When such
dishonest practices prevail on every side, it often happens that even
good men are carried away with them, and seem to imagine that, being
universal, it is necessary for them to fall in with them too. It was a
rare thing that Samuel was able to do to look round on that vast
assembly and demand whether one act of that kind had ever been
committed by him, whether he had ever deviated even an hairbreadth from
the rule of strict integrity and absolute honesty in all his dealings
with them. Observe that Samuel was not like one of many, banded together
to be true and upright, and supporting each other by mutual example and
encouragement in that course. As far as appears, he was alone, like the
seraph Abdiel, "faithful found among the faithless, faithful only he."
What a regard he must have had for the law and authority of God! How
rigidly he must have trained himself in public as in private life to
make the will of God the one rule of his actions! What was it to him
that slight peccadilloes would be thought nothing of by the public? What
was it to him that men would have counted it only natural that of the
money that passed through his hands a little should stick to his
fingers, provided he was faithful in the main? What was it to him that
this good man and that good man were in the way of doing it, so that,
after all, he would be no worse than they? All such considerations would
have been absolutely tossed aside. "Get thee behind me, Satan," would
have been his answer to all such proposals. Unbending integrity,
absolute honesty, unswerving truth, was his rule on every occasion. "How
can I do this wickedness," would have been his question--"How can I do
this great wickedness, _and sin against God_?"

Is there nothing here for us to ponder in these days of intense
competition in business and questionable methods of securing gain?
Surely the rule of unbending integrity, absolute honesty, and unswerving
truth is as binding on the Christian merchant as it was on the Hebrew
judge. Is the Christian merchant entitled to make use of the plea of
general corruption around him in business any more than Samuel was?
Some say, How else are we to make a living? We answer, No man is
entitled even to make a living on terms which shut him out from using
the Lord's Prayer,--from saying, "Give us this day our daily bread." Who
would dare to say that bread obtained by dishonesty or deceit is
God-given bread? Who could ask God to bless any enterprise or
transaction which had not truth and honesty for its foundation? Better
let bread perish than get it by unlawful means. For "man doth not live
by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of
God." "The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow
with it." Instead of Christian men accepting the questionable ways of
the world for pushing business, let them stand out as those who never
can demean themselves by anything so unprincipled. No doubt Samuel was a
poor man, though he might have been rich had he followed the example of
heathen rulers. But who does not honour him in his poverty, with his
incorruptible integrity and most scrupulous truthfulness, as no man
would or could have honoured him had he accumulated the wealth of a
Cardinal Wolsey and lived in splendour rivalling royalty itself? After
all, it is the true rule, "Seek first the kingdom of God and His
righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you."

But ere we pass from the contemplation of Samuel's character, it is
right that we should very specially take note of the root of this
remarkable integrity and truthfulness of his toward men. For we live in
times when it is often alleged that religion and morality have no vital
connection with each other, and that there may be found an "independent
morality" altogether separate from religious profession. Let it be
granted that this divorce from morality may be true of religions of an
external character, where Divine service is supposed to consist of
ritual observances and bodily attitudes and attendances, performed in
strict accordance with a very rigid rule. Wherever such performances are
looked on as the end of religion, they may be utterly dissociated from
morality, and one may be, at one and the same time, strictly religious
and glaringly immoral. Nay, further, where religion is held to be in the
main the acceptance of a system of doctrine, where the reception of the
doctrines of grace is regarded as the distinguishing mark of the
Christian, and fidelity to these doctrines the most important duty of
discipleship, you may again have a religion dissociated from moral life.
You may find men who glory in the doctrine of justification by faith and
look with infinite pity on those who are vainly seeking to be accepted
by their works, and who deem themselves very safe from punishment
because of the doctrine they hold, but who have no right sense of the
intrinsic evil of sin, and who are neither honest, nor truthful, nor
worthy of trust in the common relations of life. But wherever religion
is spiritual and penetrating, wherever sin is seen in its true
character, wherever men feel the curse and pollution of sin in their
hearts and lives, another spirit rules. The great desire now is to be
delivered from sin, not merely in its punishment, but in its pollution
and power. The end of religion is to establish a gracious relation
through Jesus Christ between the sinner and God, whereby not only shall
God's favour be restored, but the soul shall be renewed after God's
image, and the rule of life shall be to do all in the name of the Lord
Jesus. Now we say, You cannot have such a religion without moral
reformation. And, on the other hand, you cannot rely on moral
reformation being accomplished without a religion like this. But alas!
the love of sinful things is very deeply grained in the fallen nature of
man.

Godlessness and selfishness are frightfully powerful in unregenerate
hearts. The will of God is a terrible rule of life to the natural man--a
rule against which he rebels as unreasonable, impracticable, terrible.
How then are men brought to pay supreme and constant regard to that
will? How was Samuel brought to do this, and how are men led to do it
now? In both cases, it is through the influence of gracious, Divine
love. Samuel was a member of a nation that God had chosen as His own,
that God had redeemed from bondage, that God dwelt among, protected,
restored, guided, and blessed beyond all example. The heart of Samuel
was moved by God's goodness to the nation. More than that, Samuel
personally had been the object of God's redeeming love; and though the
hundred-and-third Psalm was not yet written, he could doubtless say,
"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy
name. Who forgiveth all thine iniquities, who healeth all thy diseases,
who redeemeth thy life from destruction, who crowneth thee with
loving-kindness and tender mercies, who satisfieth thy mouth with good
things, so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's." It is the same
gracious Divine action, the same experience of redeeming grace and
mercy, that under the Christian dispensation draws men's hearts to the
will of God; only a new light has been thrown on these Divine qualities
by the Cross of Christ. The forgiving grace and love of God have been
placed in a new setting, and when it is felt that God spared not His own
Son, but delivered Him up for us all, a new sense of His infinite
kindness takes possession of the soul. Little truly does any one know of
religion, in the true sense of the term, who has not got this view of
God in Christ, and has not felt his obligations to the Son of God, who
loved him and gave Himself for him. And when this experience comes to be
known, it becomes the delight of the soul to do the will of God. "For
the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared unto all men,
teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live
soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world; looking for that
blessed hope and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour
Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us that He might redeem us from all
iniquity, and purify to Himself a peculiar people, zealous of good
works."



CHAPTER XVII.

_SAMUEL'S DEALINGS WITH THE PEOPLE._

1 SAMUEL xii. 6-25.


2. Having vindicated himself (in the first five verses of this chapter),
Samuel now proceeds to his second point, and takes the people in hand.
But before proceeding to close quarters with them, he gives a brief
review of the history of the nation, in order to bring out the precise
relation in which they stood to God, and the duty resulting from that
relation (vers. 6-12).

First, he brings out the fundamental fact of their history. Its grand
feature was this: "It is the Lord who advanced Moses and Aaron, and
brought your fathers up out of the land of Egypt." The fact was as
indisputable as it was glorious. How would Moses ever have been induced
to undertake the task of deliverance from Egypt if the Lord had not sent
him? Was he not most unwilling to leave the wilderness and return to
Egypt? What could Aaron have done for them if the Lord had not guided
and anointed him? How could the people have found an excuse for leaving
Egypt even for a day if God had not required them? How could Pharaoh
have been induced to let them go, when even the first nine plagues only
hardened his heart, or how could they have escaped from him and his
army, had the Lord not divided the sea that His ransomed might pass
over? The fact could not be disputed--their existence as a people and
their settlement in Canaan were due to the special mercy of the Lord. If
ever a nation owed everything to the power above, Israel owed everything
to Jehovah. No distinction could even approach this in its singular
glory.

And yet there was a want of cordiality on the part of the people in
acknowledging it. They were partly at least blind to its surpassing
lustre. The truth is, they did not like all the duties and
responsibility which it involved. It is the highest honour of a son to
have a godly father, upright, earnest, consistent in serving God. Yet
many a son does not realise this, and sometimes in his secret heart he
wishes that his father were just a little more like the men of the
world. It is the brightest chapter in the history of a nation that
records its struggles for God's honour and man's liberty; yet there are
many who have no regard for these struggles, but denounce their
champions as ruffians and fanatics. Close connection with God is not, in
the eyes of the world, the glorious thing that it is in reality. How
strange that this should be so! "O righteous Father," exclaimed Christ
in His intercessory prayer, "the world hath not known Thee." He was
distressed at the world's blindness to the excellence of God. "How
strange it is," Richard Baxter says in substance somewhere, "that men
can see beauty in so many things--in the flowers, in the sky, in the
sun--and yet be blind to the highest beauty of all, the fountain and
essence of all beauty, the beauty of the Lord!" Never rest, my friends,
so long as this is true of you. Is not the very fact that to you God,
even when revealed in Jesus Christ, may be like a root out of a dry
ground, having no form or comeliness or any beauty wherefore you should
desire Him--is not that, if it be a fact, alike alarming and appalling?
Make it your prayer that He who commanded the light to shine out of
darkness would shine in your heart, to give the light of the knowledge
of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

Having emphatically laid down the fundamental fact in the history of
Israel, Samuel next proceeds to reason upon it. The reasoning rests on
two classes of facts: the first, that whenever the people forsook God
they had been brought into trouble; the second, that whenever they
repented and cried to God He delivered them out of their trouble. The
prophet refers to several instances of both, but not exhaustively, not
so as to embrace every instance. Among those into whose hand God gave
them were Sisera, the Philistines, and the Moabites; among those raised
up to deliver them when they cried to the Lord were Jerubbaal, and
Bedan, and Jephthah, and Samuel. The name Bedan does not occur in the
history, and as the Hebrew letters that form the word are very similar
to those which form Barak, it has been supposed, and I think with
reason, that the word Bedan is just a clerical mistake for Barak. The
use the prophet makes of both classes of facts is to show how directly
God was concerned in what befell the nation. The whole course of their
history under the judges had shown that to forsake God and worship idols
was to bring on the nation disaster and misery; to return to God and
restore His worship was to secure abundant prosperity and blessing. This
had been made as certain by past events as it was certain that to close
the shutters in an apartment was to plunge it into darkness, and that to
open them was to restore light. Cause and effect had been made so very
plain that any child might see how the matter stood.

Now, what was it that had recently occurred? They had had trouble from
the Ammonites. At ver. 11 the prophet indicates--what is not stated
before--that this trouble with the Ammonites had been connected with
their coming to him to ask a king. Evidently, the siege of Jabesh-Gilead
was not the first offensive act the Ammonites had committed. They had no
doubt been irritating the tribes on the other side of Jordan in many
ways before they proceeded to attack that city. And if their attack was
at all like that which took place in the days of Jephthah, it must have
been very serious and highly threatening. (See Judges x. 8, 9.) Now,
from what Samuel says here, it would appear that this annoyance from the
Ammonites was the immediate occasion of the people wishing to have a
king. Here let us observe what their natural course would have been, in
accordance with former precedent. It would have been to cry to the Lord
to deliver them from the Ammonites. As they had cried for deliverance
when the Ammonites for eighteen years vexed and oppressed all the tribes
settled on the east side of Jordan, and when they even passed over
Jordan to fight against Judah and Benjamin and Ephraim, and the Lord
raised up Jephthah, so ought they to have cried to the Lord at this
time, and He would have given them a deliverer. But instead of that they
asked Samuel to give them a king, that he might deliver them. You see
from this what cause Samuel had to charge them with rejecting God for
their King. You see at the same time how much forbearance God exercised
in allowing Samuel to grant their request. God virtually said, "I will
graciously give up My plan and accommodate myself to theirs. I will give
up the plan of raising up a special deliverer in special danger, and
will let their king be their deliverer. If they and their king are
faithful to My covenant, I will give the same mercies to them as they
would have received had things remained as they were. It will still be
true, as I promised to Abraham, that I will be their God and they shall
be My people."

3. This is the third thing that Samuel is specially concerned to press
on the people; and this he does in the remaining verses (vers. 13-25).
They were to remember that their having a king in no sense and in no
degree exempted them from their moral and spiritual obligations to God.
It did not give them one atom more liberty either in the matter of
worship, or in those weightier matters of the law--justice, mercy, and
truth. It did not make it one iota less sinful to erect altars to Baal
and Ashtaroth, or to join with any of their neighbours in religious
festivities in honour of these gods. "If ye will fear the Lord, and
serve Him, and obey His voice, and not rebel against the commandment of
the Lord, then shall both ye and also the king that reigneth over you
continue following the Lord your God; but if ye will not obey the voice
of the Lord, but rebel against the commandment of the Lord, then shall
the hand of the Lord be against you, as it was against your fathers."

There is nothing very similar to this in the circumstances in which we
are placed. And yet it is often needful to remind even Christian people
of this great truth: that no change of outward circumstances can ever
bring with it a relaxation of moral duty, or make that lawful for us
which in its own nature is wrong. Nothing of moral quality can be right
for us on shipboard which is wrong for us on dry land. Nothing can be
allowable in India which could not be thought of in England or Scotland.
The law of the Sabbath is not more elastic on the continent of Europe
than it is at home. There is no such thing as a geographical religion or
a geographical Christianity. Burke used to say, looking to the humane
spirit that Englishmen showed at home and the oppressive treatment they
were often guilty of to the natives of other countries, that the
humanity of England was a thing of points and parallels. But a local
humanity is no humanity. Those who act as if it were, make public
opinion their god, instead of the eternal Jehovah. They virtually say
that what public opinion does not allow in England is wrong in England,
and must be avoided. If public opinion allows it on the continent of
Europe, or in India, or in Africa, it may be done. Is this not
dethroning God, and abrogating His immutable law? If God be our King,
His will must be our one unfailing rule of life and duty wherever we
are. Truly, there is little recognition of a mutable public opinion
affecting the quality of our actions, in that sublime psalm that brings
out so powerfully the omniscience of God,--the hundred and thirty-ninth,
"Whither shall I go from Thy Spirit, and whither shall I flee from Thy
presence? If I ascend up into heaven, Thou art there; if I make my bed
in hell, behold Thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning and
dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall Thy hand lead
me and Thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall
cover me, even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness
hideth not from Thee, but the night shineth as the day; the darkness and
the light are both alike to Thee."

It was Samuel's purpose, then, to press on the people that the change
involved in having a king brought no change as to their duty of
invariable allegiance to God. The lessons of history had been clear
enough; but they were always a dull-sighted people, and not easily
impressed except by what was palpable and even sensational. For this
reason Samuel determined to impress the lesson on them in another way.
He would show them there and then, under their very eyes, what agencies
of destruction God held in His hand, and how easily He could bring these
to bear on them and on their property. "Is it not wheat harvest to-day?"
You are gathering or about to gather that important crop, and it is of
vital importance that the weather be still and calm. But I will pray the
Lord, and He shall send thunder and rain, and you will see how easy it
is for Him in one hour to ruin the crop which you have been nursing so
carefully for months back. "So Samuel called unto the Lord; and the Lord
sent thunder and rain that day: and all the people greatly feared the
Lord and Samuel. And all the people said unto Samuel, Pray for thy
servants unto the Lord thy God that we die not; for we have added unto
all our sins this evil: to ask us a king." It was an impressive proof
how completely they were in God's hands. What earthly thing could any of
them or all of them do to ward off that agent of destruction from their
crops? There were they, a great army, with sword and spear, young,
strong, and valiant, yet they could not arrest in its fall one drop of
rain, nor alter the course of one puff of wind, nor extinguish the blaze
of one tongue of fire. Oh, what folly it was to offer an affront to the
great God, who had such complete control over "fire and hail, snow and
vapours, stormy wind fulfilling His word"! What blindness to think they
could in any respect be better with another king!

Thus it is that in their times of trial God's people in all ages have
been brought to feel their entire dependence on Him. In days of flowing
prosperity, we have little sense of that dependence. As the Psalmist
puts it in the thirtieth Psalm: "In my prosperity I said, I shall never
be moved." When all goes well with us, we expect the same prosperity to
continue; it seems stereotyped, the fixed and permanent condition of
things. When the days run smoothly, "involving happy months, and these
as happy years," all seems certain to continue. But a change comes over
our life. Ill-health fastens on us; death invades our circle; relatives
bring us into deep waters; our means of living fail; we are plunged into
a very wilderness of woe. How falsely we judged when we thought that it
was by its own inherent stability our mountain stood strong! No, no; it
was solely the result of God's favour, for all our springs are in Him;
the moment He hides His face we are most grievously troubled. Sad but
salutary experience! Well for you, my afflicted friend, if it burns into
your very soul the conviction that every blessing in life depends on
God's favour, and that to offend God is to ruin all!

But now, the humble and contrite spirit having been shown by the people,
see how Samuel hastens to comfort and reassure them. Now that they have
begun to fear, he can say to them, "Fear not." Now that they have shown
themselves alive to the evils of God's displeasure, they are assured
that there is a clear way of escape from these evils. "Turn not aside
from following the Lord, but serve the Lord with all your heart." If God
be terrible as an enemy, He is glorious as a friend. No doubt you
offered a slight to Him when you sought another king. But it is just a
proof of His wonderful goodness that, though you have done this, He does
not cast you off. He will be as near to you as ever He was if you are
only faithful to Him. He will still deliver you from your enemies when
you call upon Him. For His name and His memorial are still the same:
"The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and
abundant in goodness and in truth, forgiving iniquity and transgression
and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty."

Samuel, moreover, reminds them that it was not they that had chosen God;
it was God that had chosen them. "The Lord will not forsake His people,
for His great name's sake, because it hath pleased the Lord to make you
His people." This was a great ground of comfort for Israel. The eternal
God had chosen them and made them His people for great purposes of His
own. It was involved in this very choice and purpose of God that He
would keep His hand on them, and preserve them from all such calamities
as would prevent them from fulfilling His purpose. Fickle and
changeable, they might easily be induced to break away from Him; but,
strong and unchangeable, He could never be induced to abandon His
purpose in them. And if this was a comfort to Israel then, there is a
corresponding comfort to the spiritual Israel now. If my heart is in any
measure turned to God, to value His favour and seek to do His will, it
is God that has effected the change. And this shows that God has a
purpose with me. Till that purpose is accomplished, He cannot leave me.
He will correct me when I sin, He will recover me when I stray, He will
heal me when I am sick, He will strengthen me when I am weak; "I am
confident of this very thing: that He which hath begun a good work in me
will perform it unto the day of Jesus Christ."

Once more, in answer to the people's request that he would intercede
for them, Samuel is very earnest. "God forbid that I should sin against
the Lord in ceasing to pray for you." The great emphasis with which he
says this shows how much his heart is in it. "What should I do, if I had
not the privilege of intercessory prayer for you?" There is a wonderful
revelation of love to the people here. They are dear to him as his
children are dear to a Christian parent, and he feels for them as warmly
as he feels for himself. There is a wonderful deepening of interest and
affection when men's relation to God is realized. The warmest heart as
yet unregenerate cannot feel for others as the spiritual heart must do
when it takes in all the possibilities of the spiritual state--all that
is involved in the favour or in the wrath of the infinite God, in the
predominance of sin or of grace in the heart, and in the prospect of an
eternity of woe on the one hand or of glory, honour, and heavenly bliss
on the other. How is it possible for one to have all these possibilities
full in one's view and not desire the eternal welfare of loved ones with
an intensity unknown to others? We know from experience how hard it is
to get them to do right. Even one's own children seem sometimes to
baffle every art and endeavour of love, and go off, in spite of
everything, to the ways of the world. Entreaty and remonstrance are
apparently in vain. The more one pleads, the less perhaps are one's
pleas regarded. One resource remains--intercessory prayer. It is the
only method to which one may resort with full assurance of its ultimate
efficacy for attaining the dearest object of one's heart. Does the
thought of giving up intercessory prayer come to one from any quarter?
No wonder if the insinuation is met by a deep, earnest "God forbid"!

"I bless God," said Mr. Flavel, one of the best and sweetest of the old
Puritan divines, on the death of his father--"I bless God for a
religious and tender father, who often poured out his soul to God for
me; and this stock of prayers I esteem the fairest inheritance on
earth." How many a man has been deeply impressed even by the very
thought that some one was praying for him! "Is it not strange," he has
said to himself, "that he should pray for me far more than I pray for
myself? What can induce him to take such an interest in me?" Every
Christian ought to think much of intercessory prayer, and practise it
greatly. It is doubly blessed: blessed to him who prays and blessed to
those for whom he prays. Nothing is better fitted to enlarge and warm
the heart than intercessory prayer. To present to God in succession, one
after another, our family and our friends, remembering all their wants,
sorrows, trials, and temptations; to bear before Him the interests of
this struggling Church and that in various parts of the world, this
interesting mission and that noble cause; to make mention of those who
are waging the battles of temperance, of purity, of freedom, of
Christianity itself, in the midst of difficulty, obloquy, and
opposition; to gather together all the sick and sorrowing, all the
fatherless and widows, all the bereaved and dying, of one's
acquaintance, and ask God to bless them; to think of all the children of
one's acquaintance in the bright springtide of life, of all the young
men and young women arrived or arriving at the critical moment of
decision as to the character of their life, and implore God to guide
them--O brethren, this is good for one's self; it enlarges one's own
heart; it helps one's self in prayer! And then what a blessing it is for
those prayed for! Who can estimate the amount of spiritual blessing
that has been sent down on this earth in answer to the fervent
intercessions of the faithful? Think how Moses interceded for the whole
nation after the golden calf, and it was spared. Think how Daniel
interceded for his companions in Babylon, and the secret was revealed to
him. Think how Elijah interceded for the widow, and her son was restored
to life. Think how Paul constantly interceded for all his Churches, and
how their growth and spiritual prosperity evinced that his prayer was
not in vain. God forbid that any Christian should sin against the Lord
in ceasing to pray for the Church which He hath purchased with His own
blood. And while we pray for the Church, let us not forget the world
that lieth in wickedness. For of all for whom the desires of the
faithful should go up to heaven, surely the most necessitous are those
who have as yet no value for heavenly blessings. What duty can be more
binding on us than to "pray for her that prays not for herself"?



CHAPTER XVIII.

_SAUL AND SAMUEL AT GILGAL._

1 SAMUEL xiii.


The first thing that claims our attention in connection with this
chapter is the question of dates involved in the first verse. In the
Authorized Version we read, "Saul reigned one year; and when he had
reigned two years over Israel, Saul chose him three thousand men." This
rendering of the original is now quite given up. The form of expression
is the same as that which so often tells us the age of a king at the
beginning of his reign and the length of his reign. The Revised Version
is in close, but not in strict, accord with the Hebrew. It runs, "Saul
was _thirty_ years old when he began to reign, and he reigned two years
over Israel." A marginal note of the Revised Version says, "The Hebrew
text has, '_Saul was a year old_.' The whole verse is omitted in the
unrevised Septuagint, but in a later recension the number _thirty_ is
inserted." There can be no doubt that something has been dropped out of
the Hebrew text. Literally translated, it would run, "Saul was a year
old when he began to reign, and he reigned two years over Israel." A
figure seems to have dropped out after "Saul was" and another after "he
reigned." A blot of some kind may have effaced these figures in the
original manuscript, and the copyist not knowing what they were, may
have left them blank. The Septuagint conjecture of "thirty" as Saul's
age is not very felicitous, for at the beginning of Saul's reign his son
Jonathan was old enough to distinguish himself in the war. Judging from
probabilities, we should say that the original may have run thus: "Saul
was forty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned thirty and
two years over Israel." This would make the length of Saul's reign to
correspond with the duration of Saul's dynasty as given in Acts xiii.
21. There it is said that God gave to the people Saul "by the space of
forty years." If to the thirty-two years which we suppose to have been
the actual length of Saul's reign we add seven and a half, during which
his son Ishbosheth reigned, we get in round numbers as the duration of
his dynasty forty years. This would make Saul about seventy-two at the
time of his death.

The narrative in this chapter appears to be in immediate connection with
that of the last. The bulk of the army had gone from Jabesh-Gilead to
Gilgal, and there, under Samuel, they had renewed the kingdom. There
they had listened to Samuel's appeal, and there the thunderstorm had
taken place that helped so well to rivet the prophet's lessons.
Therefore the bulk of the army was disbanded, but two thousand men were
kept with Saul at Michmash and near Bethel, and one thousand with
Jonathan at Gibeah. These were necessary to be some restraint on the
Philistines, who were strong in the neighbourhood and eager to inflict
every possible annoyance on the Israelites. Saul, however, does not seem
to have felt himself in a position to take any active steps against
them.

But though Saul was inactive, Jonathan did not slumber. Though very
young, probably under twenty, he had already been considered worthy of
an important command, and now, by successfully attacking a garrison of
the Philistines in Geba, he showed that he was worthy of the confidence
that had been placed in him. It is interesting to mark in Jonathan that
dash and daring which was afterwards so conspicuous in David, and the
display of which on the part of David drew Jonathan's heart to him so
warmly. The news of the exploit of Jonathan soon circulated among the
Philistines, and would naturally kindle the desire to retaliate. Saul
would see at once that, as the result of this, the Philistines would
come upon them in greater force than ever; and it was to meet this
expected attack that he called for a muster of his people. Gilgal was
the place of rendezvous, deep down in the Jordan valley; for the higher
part of the country was so dominated by the enemy that no muster could
take place there.

So it seemed as if the brilliant achievement of Jonathan was going to
prove a curse rather than a blessing. In all kinds of warfare, we must
be prepared for such turns in the order of events. When one side shows a
great increase of activity, the other does the same. When one achieves
an advantage, the other rouses itself to restore the balance. It has
often happened in times of religious darkness that the bold attitude of
some fearless reformer has roused the enemy to activity and ferocity,
and thus brought to his brethren worse treatment than before. But such
reverses are only temporary, and the cause of truth gains on the whole
by the successful skirmishes of its pioneers. Many persons, when they
see the activity and boldness which the forces of evil manifest in our
day, are led to conclude that our times are sadly degenerate; they
forget that the activity of evil is the proof and the result of the
vitality and activity of good. No doubt there were faint-hearted persons
in the host of Israel who would bring hard accusations against Jonathan
for disturbing the equilibrium between Israel and the Philistines. They
would shake their heads and utter solemn truisms on the rashness of
youth, and would ask if it was not a shame to entrust a stripling with
such power and responsibility. But Jonathan's stroke was the beginning
of a movement which might have ended in the final expulsion of the
Philistines from the territories of Israel if Saul had not acted
foolishly at Gilgal. In this case, it was not the young man, but the
old, that was rash and reckless. Jonathan had acted with courage and
vigour, probably also with faith; it was Saul that brought disturbance
and disaster to the host.

The dreaded invasion of the Philistines was not long of taking place.
The force which they brought together is stated so high, that in the
number of the chariots some commentators have suspected an error of the
copyist, 30,000 for 3,000, an error easily accounted for, as the extra
cipher would be represented by a slight mark over the Hebrew letter.
But, be this as it may, the invading host was of prodigiously large
dimensions. It was so large as to spread a thorough panic through the
whole community of Israel, for the people "hid themselves in caves, and
in thickets, and in rocks, and in high places, and in pits." Not content
with such protection, some of them crossed the Jordan, and took refuge
in Gilead and in Dan, not far from Jabesh-Gilead, where another enemy
had been so signally defeated. Saul had remained in Gilgal, where he was
followed by a host of people, not in any degree impressed by what God
had done for them at Jabesh-Gilead, not trying to rally their courage by
the thought that God was still their King and Defender, but full of that
abject fear which utterly unnerves both mind and body, and prepares the
way for complete disaster. How utterly prostrated and helpless the
people were is apparent from that very graphic picture of their
condition which we find towards the end of the chapter: "There was no
smith found throughout all the land of Israel; for the Philistines said,
Lest the Hebrews make to themselves swords or spears; but all the
Israelites went down to the Philistines to sharpen every man his share,
and his coulter, and his axe, and his mattock." It requires little
effort of imagination to see that the condition of the Israelites was,
humanly speaking, utterly desperate. An enormous array of warriors like
the Philistines, equipped with all the weapons of war, and confident in
their prowess and their power, pouring upon a land where the defenders
had not even swords nor spears, but only clubs and stones and suchlike
rude resources for the purposes of conflict, presented a scene the issue
of which could not have been doubtful on all human calculations.

But surely the case was not a whit more desperate than that of their
forefathers had been, with the sea before them, the mountains on either
side, and the Egyptian army, in all its completeness of equipment,
hastening to fall upon their rear. Yet out of that terrible situation
their Divine King had delivered them, and a few hours after, they were
all jubilant and triumphant, singing to the Lord who had triumphed
gloriously, and had cast the horse and his rider into the sea. And no
one can fail to see that the very gravity of the situation at the
present time ought to have given birth to a repetition of that spirit
of faith and prayer which had animated Moses, as it afterwards animated
Deborah, and Gideon, and many more, and through which deliverance had
come. On every ground the duty incumbent on Saul at this time was to
show the most complete deference to the will of God and the most
unreserved desire to enjoy His countenance and guidance. First, the
magnitude of the danger, the utter disproportion between the strength of
the defending people and that of the invading host, was fitted to throw
him on God. Second, the fact, so solemnly and earnestly urged by Samuel,
that, notwithstanding the sin committed by the people in demanding a
king, God was willing to defend and rule His people as of old, _if only
they had due regard to Him and His covenant_, should have made Saul
doubly careful to act at this crisis in every particular in the most
rigid compliance with God's will. Thirdly, the circumstance, which he
himself had so well emphasized, that the recent victory at Jabesh-Gilead
was a victory obtained from God, should have led him direct to God, to
implore a similar interposition of His power in this new and still more
overwhelming danger. If only Saul had been a true man, a man of faith
and prayer, he would have risen to the height of the occasion at this
terrible crisis, and a deliverance as glorious as that which Gideon
obtained over the Midianites would have signalized his efforts. It was a
most testing moment in his history. The whole fortunes of his kingdom
seemed to depend on his choice. _There_ was God, ready to come to his
help if His help had been properly asked. _There_ were the Philistines,
ready to swallow them up if no sufficient force could be mustered
against them. But weighed in the balances, Saul was found wanting. He
did not honour God; he did not act as knowing that all depended on Him.
And this want of his would have involved the terrible humiliation and
even ruin of the nation if Jonathan had not been of a different temper
from his father, if Jonathan had not achieved the deliverance which
would not have come by Saul.

Let us now examine carefully how Saul acted on the occasion, all the
more carefully because, at first sight, many have the impression that he
was justified in what he did, and consequently that the punishment
announced by Samuel was far too severe.

It appears that Samuel had instructed Saul to wait seven days for him at
Gilgal, in order that steps might be properly taken for securing the
guidance and help of God. There is some obscurity in the narrative here,
arising from the fact that it was on the first occasion of their meeting
that we read how Samuel directed Saul to wait seven days for him at
Gilgal, till he should come to offer burnt-offerings and to show him
what he was to do (chap. x. 8). We can hardly suppose, however, that
this first direction, given by Samuel, was not implemented at an earlier
time. It looks as if Samuel had repeated the instruction to Saul with
reference to the circumstances of the Philistine invasion. But, be this
as it may, it is perfectly clear from the narrative that Saul was under
instructions to wait seven days at Gilgal, at the end, if not before the
end, of which time Samuel promised to come to him. This was a distinct
instruction from Samuel, God's known and recognized prophet, acting in
God's name and with a view to the obtaining of God's countenance and
guidance in the awful crisis of the nation. The seven days had come to
an end, and Samuel had not appeared. Saul determined that he would wait
no longer. "Saul said, Bring hither a burnt-offering to me, and
peace-offerings. And he offered the burnt-offering."

Now, it has been supposed by some that Saul's offence lay in his taking
on him the functions of priest, and doing that which it was not lawful
for any but priests to do. But it does not appear that this was his
offence. A king is often said to do things which in reality are done by
his ministers and others. All that is necessarily involved in the
narrative is, that the king caused the priests to offer the
burnt-offering. For even Samuel had no authority personally to offer
sacrifices, and had he been present, the priests would have officiated
all the same.

The real offence of Saul was that he disregarded the absence of God's
prophet and representative, of the man who had all along been the
mediator between God and the king and between God and the people. And
this was no secondary matter. If Saul had had a real conviction that all
depended at this moment on his getting God's help, he would not have
disregarded an instruction received from God's servant, and he would not
have acted as if Samuel's presence was of no moment. The significant
thing in Saul's state of mind, as disclosed by his act, was that he was
not really bent on complying with the will of God. God was not a reality
to Saul. The thought of God just loomed vaguely before his mind as a
power to be considered, but not as the power on whom everything
depended. What he thought about God was, that a burnt-offering must be
offered up to propitiate Him, to prevent Him from obstructing the
enterprise, but he did not think of Him as the Being who alone could
give it success. It was substantially the carnal mind's view of God. It
says, no doubt there is a God, and He has an influence on things here
below; and to keep Him from thwarting us, we must perform certain
services which seem to please Him. But what a pitiful view it is of God!
As if the High and Lofty One that inhabiteth eternity could be induced
to bestow or to withhold His favour simply by the slaughter of an
animal, or by some similar rite!

But this was Saul's idea. "The sacrifice must be offered; the rite must
be gone through. This piece of outward homage must be paid to the power
above, but the way of doing it is of little moment. It is a sacred form,
no more. I am sorry not to have Samuel present, but the fault is not
mine. He was to be here, and he has not come. And now these frightened
people are stealing away from me, and if I wait longer, I may be left
without followers. Priests, bring the animal and offer the sacrifice,
and let us away to the war!"

How different would have been the acting of a man that honoured God and
felt that in His favour was life! How solemnized he would have been, how
concerned for his own past neglect of God, and the neglect of his
people! The presence of God's prophet would have been counted at once a
necessity and a privilege. How deeply, in his sense of sin, would he
have entered into the meaning of the burnt-offering! How earnestly he
would have pleaded for God's favour, countenance, and blessing! If Jacob
could not let the angel go at Peniel unless he blessed him, neither
would Saul have parted from God at Gilgal without some assurance of
help. "If Thy presence go not with me," he would have said, "carry us
not up hence." Alas, we find nothing of all this! The servant of God is
not waited for; the form is gone through, and Saul is off to his work.
And this is the doing of the man who has been called to be king of
Israel, and who has been solemnly warned that God alone is Israel's
defence, and that to offend God is to court ruin!

When Samuel came, Saul was ready with a plausible excuse. On the ground
of expediency, he vindicated his procedure. He could not deny that he
had broken his promise (it was a virtual promise) to wait for Samuel,
but there were reasons exceedingly strong to justify him in doing so.
Samuel had not come. The people were scattered from him. The Philistines
were concentrating at Michmash, and might have come down and fallen upon
him at Gilgal. All very true, but not one of them by itself, nor all of
them together, a real vindication of what he had done. Samuel, he might
be sure, would not be an hour longer than he could help. There were far
more people left to him than Gideon's band, and the God that gave the
victory to the three hundred would not have let him suffer for want of
men. The Philistines might have been discomfited by God's tempest on the
way to Gilgal, as they were discomfited before, on the way to Mizpeh. O
Saul, distrust of God has been at the bottom of your mind! The faith
that animated the heroes of former days has had no control of you. You
have walked by sight, not by faith. Had you been faithful now, and
honoured God, and waited till His servant sent you off with his
benediction, prosperity would have attended you, and your family would
have been permanently settled in the throne. But now your kingdom shall
not continue. Personally, you may continue to be king for many years to
come; but the penalty which God affixes to this act of unbelief,
formality, and presumption is, that no line of kings shall spring from
your loins. The Lord hath sought Him a man after His own heart, and the
Lord hath commanded him to be captain over His people.

What a solemn and impressive condemnation have we here, my friends, of
that far too common practice--deserting principle to serve expediency. I
don't like to tell a lie, some one may say, but if I had not done so, I
should have lost my situation. I dislike common work on the Sabbath day,
but if I did not do it, I could not live. I don't think it right to go
to Sunday parties or to play games on Sunday, but I was invited by this
or that great person to do it, and I could not refuse him. I ought not
to adulterate my goods, and I ought not to give false statements of
their value, but every one in my business does it, and I cannot be
singular. What do these vindications amount to, but just a confession
that from motives of expediency God's commandment may be set aside?
These excuses just come to this: It was better for me to offend God and
gain a slight benefit, than it would have been to lose the benefit and
please God. It is a great deal to lose a small profit in business, or a
small pleasure in social life, or a small honour from a fellow-man; but
it is little or nothing to displease God, it is little or nothing to
treasure up wrath against the day of wrath. Alas for the practical
unbelief that lies at the bottom of all this! It is the doing of the
fool who hath said in his heart, There is no God. Look at this history
of Saul. See what befell him for preferring expediency to principle.
Know that the same condemnation awaits all who walk in his
footsteps--all who are not solemnized by that awful, that unanswerable,
question, "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and
lose his own soul?"

Great offence has often been taken at the character here ascribed to the
man who was to fill the throne after Saul--"The Lord hath sought Him a
man after His own heart." Was David, the adulterer, the traitor, the
murderer, a man after God's own heart? But surely it is not meant to be
affirmed that David was such a man in every aspect, in every particular.
The point on which the emphasis should rest must surely be that David
was such a man in that feature in which Saul was so wanting. And
undoubtedly this was eminently true of him. That which stood out most
fully in the public character of David was the honour which he paid to
God, the constancy with which he consulted His will, the prevailing
desire he had to rule the kingdom in His fear and for His glory. If God
was but a form to Saul, He was an intense reality to David. If Saul
could not get it into his mind that he ought to rule for God, David
could not have got it out of his mind if he had tried. That David's
character was deformed in many ways cannot be denied; he had not only
infirmities, but tumours, blotches, defilements, most distressing to
behold; but in this one thing he left an example to all of us, and
especially to rulers, which it would be well for all of us to ponder
deeply: that the whole business of government is to be carried on in the
spirit of regard to the will of God; that the welfare of the people is
ever to be consulted in preference to the interests of the prince; that
for nations, as for individuals, God's favour is life, and His frown
ruin.



CHAPTER XIX.

_JONATHAN'S EXPLOIT AT MICHMASH._

1 SAMUEL xiv. 1-23.


It has sometimes been objected to the representation occurring at the
end of the thirteenth chapter of the utter want of arms among the
Hebrews at this time that it is inconsistent with the narrative of the
eleventh. If it be true, as stated there, that the Israelites gained a
great victory over the Ammonites, they must have had arms to accomplish
that; and, moreover, the victory itself must have put them in possession
of the arms of the Ammonites. The answer to this is, that the invasion
of the Philistines subsequent to this in such overwhelming numbers seems
to have been the cause of the miserable plight to which the Hebrews were
reduced, and of the loss of their arms.

Whether we are to take the statement as quite literal that in the day of
battle there was neither sword nor spear found in the hand of any of the
people save Saul or Jonathan, or whether we are to regard this as just
an Oriental way of saying that these were the only two who had a
thorough equipment of arms, it is plain enough that the condition of the
Hebrew troops was very wretched. That in their circumstances a feeling
of despondency should have fallen on all save the few who walked by
faith, need not excite any surprise.

The position of the two armies is not difficult to understand. Several
miles to the north of Jerusalem, a valley, now named Wady Suweinet, runs
from west to east, from the central plateau of Palestine down towards
the valley of the Jordan. The name Mûkmas, still preserved, shows the
situation of the place which was then occupied by the garrison of the
Philistines. Near to that place, Captain Conder[1] believes that he has
found the very rocks where the exploit of Jonathan occurred. On either
side of the valley there rises a perpendicular crag, the northern one,
called in Scripture Bozez, being extremely steep and difficult of
ascent. "It seems just possible that Jonathan, with immense labour,
might have climbed up on his hands and his feet, and his armour-bearer
after him."

It is evident that Saul had no thought at this time of making any attack
on the Philistines. How could he, with soldiers so poorly armed and so
little to encourage them? Samuel does not appear to have been with him.
But in his company was a priest, Ahiah, the son of Ahitub, grandson of
Eli, perhaps the same as Ahimelech, afterwards introduced. Saul still
adhered to the forms of religion; but he had too much resemblance to the
Church of Sardis--"Thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead."

The position of the army of Israel with reference to the Philistines
seems to have been very similar to what it was afterwards when Goliath
defied the army of the living God. The Israelites could only look on, in
helpless inactivity. But just as the youthful spirit of David was
afterwards roused in these circumstances to exertion, so on the present
occasion was the youthful spirit of Jonathan. It was not the first time
that he had attacked the garrison of the Philistines. (See xiii. 3.) But
what he did on the former occasion seems to have been under more equal
conditions than the seemingly desperate enterprise to which he betook
himself now. A project of unprecedented daring came into his mind. He
took counsel with no one about it. He breathed nothing of it to his
father. A single confidant and companion was all that he thought of--his
armour-bearer, or aide-de-camp. And even him he did not so much consult
as attach. "Come," said he, "and let us go over unto the garrison of
these uncircumcised; it may be that the Lord will work for us; for there
is no restraint by the Lord to save by many or by few." No words are
needed to show the daring character of this project. The physical effort
to climb on hands and feet up a precipitous rock was itself most
difficult and perilous, possible only to boys, light and lithe of form,
and well accustomed to it; and if the garrison observed them and chose
to oppose them, a single stone hurled from above would stretch them,
crushed and helpless, on the valley below. But suppose they succeeded,
what were a couple of young men to do when confronted with a whole
garrison? Or even if the garrison should be overpowered, how were they
to deal with the Philistine host, that lay encamped at no great
distance, or at most were scattered here and there over the country, and
would soon assemble? In every point of view save one, the enterprise
seemed utterly desperate. But that exception was a very important one.
The one point of view in which there was the faintest possibility of
success was, that the Lord God might favour the enterprise. The God of
their fathers might work for them, and if He did so, there was no
restraint with Him to work by many or by few. Had He not worked by Ehud
alone to deliver their fathers from the Moabites? Had he not worked by
Shamgar alone, when with his ox goad he slew six hundred Philistines?
Had he not worked by Samson alone in all his wonderful exploits? Might
he not work that day by Jonathan and his armour-bearer, and, after all,
only produce a new chapter in that history which had already shown so
many wonderful interpositions? Jonathan's mind was possessed by the
idea. After all, if he failed, he could but lose his life. And was not
that worth risking when success, if it were vouchsafed, might rescue his
country from degradation and destruction, and fill the despairing hearts
of his countrymen with emotions of joy and triumph like those which
animated their fathers when on the shores of Sinai they beheld the horse
and his rider cast into the sea?

It is this working of faith that must be regarded as the most
characteristic feature of the attempt of Jonathan. He showed himself one
of the noble heroes of faith, not unworthy to be enrolled in the
glorious record of the eleventh chapter of the Hebrews. He showed
himself pre-eminent for the very quality in which his father had proved
deficient. Though the earnest lessons of Samuel had been lost on the
father, they had been blessed to the son. The seed that in the one case
fell on stony places fell in the other on good ground. While Samuel was
doubtless disconsolate at the failure of his work with Saul, he was
succeeding right well, unknown perhaps to himself, with the youth that
said little but thought much. While in spirit perhaps he was uttering
words like Isaiah's, "Then said I, I have laboured in vain; I have spent
my strength for nought and in vain," God was using him in a way that
might well have led him to add, "Yet surely my judgment is with the
Lord, and my work with my God." And what encouragement is here for every
Christian worker! Don't despond when you seem to fail in your first and
most direct endeavour. In some quiet but thinking little boy or girl in
that family circle, your words are greatly regarded. And just because
that young mind sees, and seeing wonders, that father or mother is so
little moved by what you say, it is the more impressed. If the father or
the mother were manifestly to take the matter up, the child might
dismiss it, as no concern of his. But just because father or mother is
not taking it up, the child cannot get rid of it. "Yes, there _is_ an
eternity, and we ought all to be preparing for it. Sin is the soul's
ruin, and unless we get a Saviour, we are lost, Jesus _did_ come into
the world to save sinners; must we not go to Him? Yes, we must be born
again. Lord Jesus, forgive us, help us, save us!" Thus it is that things
hid from the wise and prudent are often revealed to babes; and thus it
is that out of the mouth of babes and sucklings God perfects praise.

But Jonathan's faith in God was called to manifest itself in a way very
different from that in which the faith of most young persons has to be
exercised now. Faith led Jonathan to seize sword and spear, and hurry
out to an enterprise in which he could only succeed by risking his own
life and destroying the lives of others. We are thus brought face to
face with a strange but fascinating development of the religious
spirit--military faith. The subject has received a new and wonderful
illustration in our day in the character and career of that great
Christian hero General Gordon. In the career of Gordon, we see faith
contributing an element of power, an element of daring, and an element
of security and success to a soldier, which can come from no other
source. No one imagines that without his faith Gordon would have been
what he was or could have done what he did. It is little to say that
faith raised him high above all ordinary fears, or that it made him
ready at any moment to risk, and if need be, to sacrifice his life. It
did a great deal more. It gave him a conviction that he was an
instrument in God's hands, and that when he was moved to undertake
anything as being God's will, he would be carried through all
difficulties, enabled to surmount all opposition, and to carry the point
in face of the most tremendous odds. And to a great extent the result
verified the belief. If Gordon could not be said to work miracles, he
achieved results that even miracles could hardly have surpassed. If he
failed in the last and greatest hazard of his life, he only showed that
after much success one may come to believe too readily in one's
inspiration; one may mistake the voice of one's own feeling for the
unfailing assurance of God. But that there is a great amount of reality
in that faith which hears God calling one as if with audible voice, and
goes forth to the most difficult enterprises in the full trust of Divine
protection and aid, is surely a lesson which lies on the very surface of
the life of Gordon, and such other lives of the same kind as Scripture
shows us, as well as the lives of those military heroes of whom we will
speak afterwards, whose battle has been not with flesh and blood, but
with the ignorance and the vice and the disorder of the world.

One is almost disposed to envy Jonathan, with his whole powers of mind
and body knit up to the pitch of firmest and most dauntless resolution,
under the inspiration that moved him to this apparently desperate
enterprise. All the world would have rushed to stop him, insanely
throwing away his life, without the faintest chance of escape. But a
voice spoke firmly in his bosom,--I am not throwing away my life. And
Jonathan did not want certain tokens of encouragement. It was something
that his armour-bearer neither flinched nor remonstrated. But that was
not all. To encourage himself and to encourage his companion, he fixed
on what might be considered a token for them to persevere in one
alternative, and desist in another. The token was, that if, on observing
their attempt, the Philistines in the garrison should defy them, should
bid them tarry till they came to them, that would be a sign that they
ought to return. But if they should say, "Come up to us," that would be
a proof that they ought to persevere. Was this a mere arbitrary token,
without anything reasonable underlying it? It does not seem to have been
so. In the one case, the words of the Philistines would bear a hostile
meaning, denoting that violence would be used against them; in the other
case they would denote that the Philistines were prepared to treat them
peaceably, under the idea perhaps that they were tired of skulking and,
like other Hebrews (ver. 21), wishing to surrender to the enemy. In this
latter case, they would be able to make good their position on the rock,
and the enemy would not suspect their real errand till they were ready
to begin their work. It turned out that their reception was in the
latter fashion. Whether in the way of friendly banter or otherwise, the
garrison, on perceiving them, invited them to come up, and they would
"show them a thing." Greatly encouraged by the sign, they clambered up
on hands and feet till they gained the top of the rock. Then, when
nothing of the kind was expected, they fell on the garrison and began
to kill. So sudden and unexpected an onslaught threw the garrison into a
panic. Their arms perhaps were not at hand, and for anything they knew,
a whole host of Hebrews might be hastening after their leaders to
complete the work of slaughter. In this way, nearly twenty Philistines
fell in half an acre of ground. The rest of the garrison taking to
flight seems to have spread a panic among the host. Confusion and terror
prevailed on every side. Every man's sword was against his fellow.
"There was trembling in the host, in the field, and among the people;
the spoilers and the garrison, they also trembled, and the earth quaked;
so it was a very great trembling." Whether this implies that the terror
and discomfiture of the Philistines was increased by an earthquake, or
whether it means that there was so much motion and commotion that the
very earth seemed to quake, it is not very easy to decide; but it shows
how complete was the discomfiture of the Philistines. Thus wonderfully
was Jonathan's faith rewarded, and thus wonderfully, too, was the
unbelief of Saul rebuked.

Seen from the watch-tower at Gibeah, the affair was shrouded in mystery.
It seemed as if the Philistine troops were retreating, while no force
was there to make them retreat. When inquiry was made as to who were
absent, Jonathan and his armour-bearer alone were missed. So perplexed
was Saul, that, to understand the position of affairs, he had called for
Ahiah, who had charge of the ark (the Septuagint reads, "the ephod"), to
consult the oracle. But before this could be done, the condition of
things became more plain. The noise in the host of the Philistines went
on increasing, and when Saul and his soldiers came on the spot, they
found the Philistines, in their confusion, slaughtering one another,
amid all the signs of wild discomfiture. Nothing loath, they joined in
harassing the retreating foe. And as the situation revealed itself
others hastened to take part in the fray. Those Hebrews that had come
for protection within the Philistine lines now turned against them, all
the more heartily perhaps because, before that, they had had to place
their feelings so much under restraint. And the Hebrews that lay hid in
caves and thickets and pits, when they saw what was going on, rushed
forth to join in the discomfiture of the Philistines. What a contrast to
the state of things that very morning--the Israelites in helpless
feebleness, looking with despair on the Philistines as they lay in their
stronghold in all the pride of security, and scattered defiant looks and
scornful words among their foes; now the Philistine garrison surprised,
their camp forsaken, their army scattered, and the only desire or
purpose animating the remnant being to escape at the top of their speed
from the land of Israel, and find shelter and security in their native
country. "So the Lord saved Israel that day; and the battle passed over
unto Beth-aven."

And thus the faith of Jonathan had a glorious reward. The inspiration of
faith vindicated itself, and the noble self-devotion that had plunged
into this otherwise desperate enterprise, because there was no restraint
to the Lord to save by many or by few, led thus to a triumph more speedy
and more complete than even Jonathan could have ventured to dream of.
None of the judges had wrought a more complete or satisfactory
deliverance; and even the crossing of the Red Sea under Moses had not
afforded a more glorious evidence than this achievement of Jonathan's of
the power of faith, or given more ample testimony to that principle of
the kingdom of God, which our Lord afterwards enunciated, "If ye have
faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain,
Remove hence unto yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall
be impossible unto you."

This incident is full of lessons for modern times. First, it shows what
wide and important results may come from _individual conviction_. When
an individual heart is moved by a strong conviction of duty, it may be
that God means through that one man's conviction to move the world.
Modesty might lead a man to say, I am but a unit; I have no influence;
it will make very little difference what I do with my conviction,
whether I cherish it or stifle it. Yet it may be of just worldwide
importance that you be faithful to it, and stand by it steadfastly to
the end. Did not the Reformation begin through the steadfastness of
Luther, the miner's son of Eisleben, to the voice that spoke out so
loudly to himself? Did not Carey lay the foundation of the modern
mission in India, because he could not get rid of that verse of
Scripture, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every
creature"? Did not Livingstone persevere in the most dangerous, the most
desperate enterprise of our time, because he could not quench the voice
that called him to open up Africa or perish? Or to go back to Scripture
times. A Jewish maiden at the court of the great king of Persia becomes
the saviour of her whole nation, because she feels that, at the risk of
her life, she must speak a word for them to the king. Saul of Tarsus,
after his conversion, becomes impressed with the conviction that he must
preach the Gospel to the Gentiles, and through his faithfulness to that
conviction, he lays the foundation of the whole European Church. Learn,
my friends, every one, from this, never to be faithless to any
conviction given to you, though, as far as you know, it is given to you
alone. Make very sure that it comes from the God of truth. But don't
stifle it, under the notion that you are too weak to bring anything out
of it. Don't reason that if it were really from God, it would be given
to others too. Test it in every way you can, to determine whether it be
right. And if it stands these tests, manfully give effect to it, for it
may bear seed that will spread over the globe.

Second, this narrative shows what large results may flow from
_individual effort_. The idea may not have occurred for the first time
to some one; it may have been derived by him from another; but it has
commended itself to him, it has been taken up by him, and worked out by
him to results of great magnitude and importance. Pay a visit to the
massive buildings and well-ordered institutions of Kaiserswerth, learn
its ramifications all over the globe, and see what has come of the
individual efforts of Fliedner. Think how many children have been
rescued by Dr. Barnardo, how many have been emigrated by Miss
Macpherson, how many souls have been impressed by Mr. Moody, how many
orphans have been cared for by Mr. Müller, how many stricken ones have
been relieved in the institutions of John Bost. It is true, we are not
promised that every instance of individual effort will bring any such
harvest. It may be that we are to be content with very limited results,
and with the encomium bestowed on the woman in the Gospel, "She hath
done what she could." But it is also true that none of us can tell what
possibilities there are in individual effort. We cannot tell but in our
case the emblem of the seventy-second Psalm may be verified, "There
shall be an handful of corn in the earth on the top of the mountains;
the fruit thereof shall shake like Lebanon, and they of the city shall
flourish like grass of the earth."

Lastly, we may learn from this narrative that the true secret of all
spiritual success lies in our seeking to be instruments in God's hands,
and in our lending ourselves to Him, to do in us and by us whatever is
good in His sight. Thus it was eminently with Jonathan. "It may be that
the Lord will work for us; for there is no restraint to the Lord to save
by many or by few." It was not Jonathan that was to work with some help
from God; it was the Lord that was to work by Jonathan. It was not
Jonathan's project that was to be carried out; it was the Lord's cause
that was to be advanced. Jonathan had no personal ends in this matter.
He was willing to give up his life, if the Lord should require it. It is
a like consecration in all spiritual service that brings most blessing
and success. Men that have nothing of their own to gain are the men who
gain most. Men who sacrifice all desire for personal honour are the men
who are most highly honoured. Men who make themselves of no reputation
are the men who gain the highest reputation. Because Christ emptied
Himself, and took on Him the form of a servant, God highly exalted Him
and gave Him a name above every name. And those who are like Christ in
the mortifying of self become like Christ also in the enjoyment of the
reward. Such are the rules of the kingdom of heaven. "He that loveth his
life shall lose it, and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep
it unto life eternal."

FOOTNOTES:

[1] "Tent Work in Palestine."



CHAPTER XX.

_SAUL'S WILFULNESS._

1 SAMUEL xiv. 24-52.


That Saul was now suffering in character under the influence of the high
position and great power to which he had been raised, is only too
apparent from what is recorded in these verses. No doubt he pays more
respect than he has been used to pay to the forms of religion. He
enjoins a fast on his people at a very inconvenient time, under the idea
that fasting is a proper religious act. He is concerned for the trespass
of the people in eating their food with the blood. He builds the first
altar he ever built to God. He consults the oracle before he will commit
himself to the enterprise of pursuing the retreating enemy by night. He
is concerned to find the oracle dumb, and tries to discover through
whose sin it is so. For a ceremonial offence, committed by Jonathan in
ignorance, he fancies that God's displeasure has come down on the
people, and he not only insists that Jonathan shall die for this
offence, but confirms his decision by a solemn oath, sworn in the name
of God. All this shows Saul plunging and floundering from one mistake to
another, and crowning his blunders by a proposal so outrageous that the
indignation of the people arrests his purpose. The idea that the work of
the day shall be wound up by the execution of the youth through whom
all the wonderful deliverance has come, and that youth Saul's own son,
is one that could never have entered into any but a distempered brain.
Reason seems to have begun to stagger on her throne; the sad process has
begun which in a more advanced stage left Saul the prey of an evil
spirit, and in its last and most humiliating stage drove him to consult
with the witch of Endor.

But how are we to explain his increase of religiousness side by side
with the advance of moral obliquity and recklessness? Why should he be
more careful in the service of God while he becomes more imperious in
temper, more stubborn in will, and more regardless of the obligations
alike of king and father? The explanation is not difficult to find. The
expostulation of Samuel had given him a fright. The announcement that
the kingdom would not be continued in his line, and that God had found a
worthier man to set over His people Israel, had moved him to the quick.
There could be no doubt that Samuel was speaking the truth. Saul had
begun to disregard God's will in his public acts, and was now beginning
to reap the penalty. He felt that he must pay more attention to God's
will. If he was not to lose everything, he must try to be more
religious. There is no sign of his feeling penitent in heart. He is not
concerned in spirit for his unworthy behaviour toward God. He feels only
that his own interests as king are imperilled. It is this selfish motive
that makes him determine to be more religious. The fast, and the
consultation of the oracle, and the altar, and the oath that Jonathan
shall die, have all their origin in this frightened, selfish feeling.
And hence, in their very nature and circumstances, his religious acts
are unsuitable and unseemly. In place of making things better by such
services, he makes them worse; no peace of God falls like dew on his
soul; no joy is diffused throughout his army; discontent reaches a
climax when the death of Jonathan is called for; and tranquillity is
restored only by the rebellion of the people, rescuing their youthful
prince and hero.

Alas, how common has this spirit been in the history of the world! What
awful tragedies has it led to, what slaughter of heretics, what
frightful excesses disgraceful to kings, what outrages on the common
feelings of humanity! Louis XIV. has led a most wicked and profligate
life, and he has ever and anon qualms that threaten him with the wrath
of God. To avert that wrath, he must be more attentive to his religious
duties. He must show more favour to the Church, exalt her dignitaries to
greater honour, endow her orders and foundations with greater wealth.
But that is not all. He must use all the arms and resources of his
kingdom for ridding the Church of her enemies. For twenty years he must
harass the Protestants with every kind of vexatious interference,
shutting up their churches on frivolous pretexts, compelling them to
bury their dead by night, forbidding the singing of psalms in worship,
subjecting them to great injustice in their civil capacity, and at last,
by the revocation of the edict that gave them toleration, sweeping them
from the kingdom in hundreds of thousands, till hardly a Protestant is
left behind. What the magnificent monarch did on a large scale, millions
of obscurer men have done on a small. It is a sad truth that terror and
selfishness have been at the foundation of a great deal of that which
passes current as religion. Prayers and penances and vows and charities
in cases without number have been little better than premiums of
insurance, designed to save the soul from punishment and pain. Nor have
these acts been confined to that Church which, more than any other, has
encouraged men to look for saving benefit to the merit of their own
works. Many a Protestant, roused by his conscience into a state of
fright, has resolved to be more attentive to the duties of religion. He
will read his Bible more; he will pray more; he will give more; he will
go to church more. Alas, the spring of all this is found in no
humiliation for sin before God, no grief at having offended the Father,
no humble desire to be renewed in heart and conformed to the image of
the First-born! And the consequence is, as in the case of Saul, that
things go, not from bad to better, but from bad to worse. There is no
peace of God that passeth all understanding; there is no general
rectification of the disordered faculties of the soul; there is no token
of heavenly blessing, blessing to the man himself and blessing to those
about him. A more fiery element seems to come into his temper; a more
bitter tone pervades his life. To himself it feels as if there were no
good in trying to be better; to the world it appears as if religion put
more of the devil into him. But it is all because what he calls religion
is no religion; it is the selfish bargain-making spirit, which aims no
higher than deliverance from pain; it is not the noble exercise of the
soul, prostrated by the sense of guilt, and helpless through
consciousness of weakness, lifting up its eyes to the hills whence
cometh its help, and rejoicing in the grace that freely pardons all its
sin through the blood of Christ, and in the gift of the Holy Spirit that
renews and sanctifies the soul.

The first thing that Saul does, in the exercise of this selfish spirit,
is to impose on the people an obligation to fast until the day be over.
Any one may see that to compel fasting under such circumstances was
alike cruel and unwise. To fast in the solitude of one's chamber, where
there is no extra wear and tear of the bodily organs, and therefore no
special need for recruiting them, is comparatively safe and easy. But to
fast amid the struggles of battle or the hurry of a pursuit; to fast
under the burning sun and that strain of the system which brings the
keenest thirst; to fast under exertions that rapidly exhaust the thews
and sinews, and call for a renewal of their tissues--to fast in
circumstances like these involves an amount of suffering which it is not
easy to estimate. It was cruel in Saul to impose a fast at such a time,
all the more that, being commander-in-chief of the army, it was his duty
to do his utmost for the comfort of his soldiers. But it was unwise as
well as cruel; with energies impaired by fasting, they could not
continue the pursuit nor make the victory so telling. Perhaps he was
under the influence of the delusion that the more painful a religious
service is, the more is it acceptable to God. That idea of penance does
find a place in our natural notions of religion. Saul, as we have seen,
grew up with little acquaintance with religious persons and little
knowledge of Divine things; and now that perforce he is constrained to
attend to them, it is no wonder if he falls into many a serious error.
For he probably had no idea of that great rule of God's kingdom, "I will
have mercy, and not sacrifice."

The folly of Saul's order became apparent when the army came to a wood,
where, as is common enough in the country, a stream of wild honey poured
out, probably from the trunk of a hollow tree. Stretching out his rod
or spear, Jonathan fixed it in a piece of the comb, which he transferred
with his hand to his mouth. Immediately "his eyes were enlightened;" the
dull feeling which settles on the eyes amid fatigue and hunger
disappeared; and with the return of clear vision to his eyes, there
would come a restoration of vigour to his whole frame. When told for the
first time of the order which his father had given, he showed no regret
at having broken it, but openly expressed his displeasure at its having
ever been imposed. "Then said Jonathan, My father hath troubled the
land. See, I pray you, how mine eyes have been enlightened, because I
tasted a little of this honey. How much more if haply the people had
eaten freely to-day of the spoil of their enemies which they found! for
had there not been a much greater slaughter among the Philistines?" We
must bear in mind that Jonathan was a true man of God. He had set out
that morning in his wonderful exploit in the true spirit of faith and
full consecration to God. He was in far nearer fellowship with God than
his father, and yet so far from approving of the religious order to fast
which his father had given, he regards it with displeasure and distrust.
Godly men will sometimes be found less outwardly religious than some
other men, and will greatly shock them by being so. The godly man has an
unction from the Holy One to understand His will; he goes straight to
the Lord's business; like our blessed Lord, he finishes the work given
him to do; while the merely religious man is often so occupied with his
forms, that, like the Pharisees, he neglects the structure for which
forms are but the scaffolding; in paying his tithes of mint, anise, and
cummin, he omits the weightier matters--justice, mercy, and truth.

But the evil caused by Saul's injudicious fast was not yet over. The
obligation to fast lasted only till sunset, and when the day was ended,
the people, faint and ravenous, flew upon the spoil--sheep, oxen, and
calves--and devoured them on the spot, without taking time or pains to
sever the blood from the flesh. To remedy this, Saul had a great stone
placed beside him, and ordered the people to bring every man his ox or
his sheep, and slay them on that stone, that he might see that the blood
was properly drained from the flesh. Then we gather from the marginal
reading of ver. 35 that he was proceeding to erect with the stone an
altar to God, but that he did not carry this purpose completely into
effect, because he determined to continue the pursuit of the
Philistines. He saw how much recruited his troops were by their food,
and he therefore determined to make a new assault. If it had not been
for the unwise order to fast given early in the day, if the people had
been at liberty to help themselves to the honey as they passed it, or to
such other refreshments as they found in their way, they would have been
some hours earlier in this pursuit, and it would have been so much the
more effectual.

It would seem, however, that the priest who was in attendance on Saul
was somewhat alarmed at the abrupt and rather reckless way in which the
king was making his plans and giving his orders. "Let us draw near
hither unto God," said he. Counsel was accordingly asked of God whether
Saul should go down after the Philistines and whether God would deliver
them into the hand of Israel. But to this inquiry no answer was given.
It was natural to infer that some sin had separated between God and
Saul, some iniquity had caused God to hide His face from him. Here was
a state of things that might well make Saul pause and examine himself.
Had he done so in an honest spirit, he could hardly have failed to find
out what was wrong. God had given a wonderful deliverance that day
through Jonathan. Jonathan was as remarkable for the power of faith as
Saul for the want of it. Jonathan had been wonderfully blessed that day,
but now that Saul, through the priest, sought to have a communication
with God, none was given. Might he not have seen that the real cause of
this was that Saul wanted what Jonathan possessed? Besides, was Saul
doing justice to Jonathan in taking the enterprise out of his hands? If
Jonathan began it, was he not entitled to finish it? Would not Saul have
been doing a thing alike generous and just had he stood aside at this
time, and called on Jonathan to complete the work of the day? If the
king of England was justified in not going to the help of the Black
Prince, serious though his danger was, but leaving him to extricate
himself, and thus enjoy the whole credit of his valour, might not Saul
have let his son end the enterprise which he had so auspiciously begun?
In these two facts, in the difference between him and Jonathan as to the
spirit of faith, and in the way in which Saul displaced the man whom God
so signally countenanced in the morning, the king of Israel might have
found the cause of the silence of the oracle. And the right thing for
him would have been to confess his error, stand aside, and call on
Jonathan to continue the pursuit and, if possible, exterminate the foe.

But Saul took a different course. He had recourse to the lot, to
determine the guilty party. Now, it does not appear that even the king
of Israel, with the priest at his side, was entitled to resort to the
lot to ascertain the mind of God except in cases where all natural
means of discovering it confessedly failed. But we have just seen that
in this case the natural means had not failed. Therefore there was no
obligation on God to order the lot supernaturally so as to bring out the
truth. In point of fact, the process ended so as to point to the very
last man in all the army to whom blame was due. It was, as
mathematicians say, a _reductio ad absurdum_. It is a proof that an
instrument is out of order if it brings out a result positively
ludicrous. If near the equator an instrument gives the latitude of the
polar circle, it is a proof that it is not working rightly. When the lot
pointed to Jonathan, it was a proof that it was not working rightly. Any
man might have seen this. And Saul ought to have seen it. And he ought
to have confessed that he was entirely out of his reckoning. Frankly and
cordially he should have taken the blame on himself, and at once
exonerated his noble son.

But Saul was in no mood to take the blame on himself. Nor had he moral
sagacity enough to see what an outrage it would be to lay the blame on
Jonathan. Assuming that he was guilty, he asked him what he had done. He
had done nothing but eat a little honey, not having heard the king's
order to abstain. The justification was complete. At worst, it was but a
ceremonial offence, but to Jonathan it was not even that. But Saul was
too obstinate to admit the plea. By a new oath, he devoted his son to
death. Nothing could show more clearly the deplorable state of his mind.
In the eye of reason and of justice, Jonathan had committed no offence.
He had given signal evidence of the possession in a remarkable degree of
the favour of God. He had laid the nation under inconceivable
obligations. All these pleas were for him; and surely in the king's
breast a voice might have been heard pleading, Your son, your
first-born, "the beginning of your strength, the excellency of dignity,
and the excellency of power"! Is it possible that this voice was
silenced by jealousy, jealousy of his own son, like his after-jealousy
of David? What kind of heart could this Saul have had when in such
circumstances he could deliberately say, "God do so, and more also, for
thou shalt surely die, Jonathan"?

But "the Divine right of kings to govern wrong" is not altogether
without check. A temporary revolution saved Jonathan. It was one good
effect of excitement. In calmer circumstances, the people might have
been too terrified to interfere. But now they were excited--excited by
their victory, excited by their fast followed by their meal, and excited
by the terror of harm befalling Jonathan. They had far clearer and more
correct apprehension of the whole circumstances than the king had. It is
especially to be noted that they laid great emphasis on the fact that
that day God had worked by Jonathan, and Jonathan had worked with God.
This made the great difference between him and Saul. "As the Lord
liveth, there shall not one hair of his head fall to the ground; for he
hath wrought with God this day. So the people rescued Jonathan, that he
died not."

The opportunity of inflicting further damage on the Philistines at this
time was thus lost through the moral obtuseness, recklessness, and
obstinacy of Saul. But in many a future campaign Saul as a warrior
rendered great service to the kingdom. He fought against all his enemies
on every side. On the east, the Moabites, the Ammonites, and the
Edomites had to be dealt with; on the north, the kings of Zobah; on the
south, the Amalekites; and on the west, the Philistines. These campaigns
are briefly stated, but we may easily see how much of hard military work
is implied in connection with each. We may understand, too, with what
honesty David, in his elegy over Saul and Jonathan, might commemorate
their warlike prowess: "From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the
mighty, the bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul
returned not empty." Whether these military expeditions were conducted
in a better spirit than Saul shows in this chapter we cannot tell.
Whether further proofs were given of God's presence with Jonathan as
contrasted with his absence from Saul we do not know. It does not appear
that there was any essential improvement in Saul. But when Jonathan
again emerges from the obscurity of history, and is seen in a clear and
definite light, his character is singularly attractive--one of the
purest and brightest in the whole field of Scripture.

Evidently the military spirit ruled in Saul, but it did not bring peace
nor blessing to the kingdom. "He gathered an host," surrounded himself
with a standing army, so as to be ready and have an excuse for any
expedition that he wished to undertake. After a brief notice of Saul's
family, the chapter ends by telling us that "there was sore war against
the Philistines all the days of Saul; and when Saul saw any strong man
or any valiant man, he took him unto him." The Philistines were far from
being permanently subdued; there were not even intervals of peace
between the two countries. There was bitter war, an open sore,
perpetually bleeding, a terror on every side, never removed. How
different it might have been had that one day been better spent! how
different it would certainly have been had Saul been a man after God's
own heart! One day's misdeeds may bring a whole generation of sorrow,
for "one sinner destroyeth much good." Once off the right rail, Saul
never got on it again; rash and restless, he doubtless involved his
people in many a disaster, fulfilling all that Samuel had said about
_taking_ from the people, fulfilling but little that the people had
hoped concerning deliverance from the hand of the Philistines.

Who does not see what a fearful thing it is to leave God and His ways,
and give one's self up to the impulses of one's own heart? Fearful for
even the humblest of us, but infinitely fearful for one of great
resources and influence, with a whole people under him! How beautiful
some prayers in the Psalms sound after we have been contemplating the
wild career of Saul! "Show me Thy ways, O Lord; teach me in Thy paths.
Lead me in Thy truth and teach me, for Thou art the God of my salvation;
on Thee do I wait all the day." "Oh that my ways were directed to keep
Thy statutes! Then shall I not be ashamed, when I have respect unto all
Thy commandments."



CHAPTER XXI.

_THE FINAL REJECTION OF SAUL._

1 SAMUEL xv.


Here we find the second portion of God's indictment against Saul, and
the reason for his final rejection from the office to which he had been
raised. There is no real ground for the assertion of some critics that
in this book we have two accounts of Saul's rejection, contradictory one
of the other, because a different ground is asserted for it in the one
case from that assigned in the other. The first rejection (1 Sam. xiii.
13, 14) was the rejection of his house as the permanent dynasty of
Israel, but it did not imply either that Saul was to cease to reign, or
that God was to withdraw all countenance and co-operation with him as
king. The rejection we read of in the present chapter goes further than
the first. It does not indeed imply that Saul would cease to reign, but
it does imply that God would no longer countenance him as king, would no
longer make him his instrument of deliverance and blessing to Israel,
but would leave him to the miserable feeling that he was reigning
without authority. More than that, as we know from the sequel, it
implied that God was about to bring his successor forward, and thereby
exhibit both to him and to the nation the evidence of his degradation
and rejection. It is likely that the transactions of this chapter
occurred when Saul's reign was far advanced. If he had not been guilty
of fresh disregard of God's will, though David would still have been his
successor, he would have been spared the shame and misery of going out
and in before his people like one who bore the mark of Cain, the visible
expression of the Divine displeasure.

Throughout the whole of this chapter, God appears in that more stern and
rigorous aspect of His character which is not agreeable to the natural
heart of man. Judgment, we are told, is His strange work; it is not what
He delights in; but it is a work which He cannot fail to perform when
the necessity for it arises. There is a gospel which is often preached
in our day that divests God wholly of the rigid, judicial character; it
clothes Him with no attributes but those of kindness and love; it
presents Him in a countenance ever smiling, never stern. It maintains
that the great work of Christ in the world was to reveal this paternal
aspect of God's character, to convince men of His fatherly feelings
towards them, and to divest their minds of all those conceptions of
indignation and wrath with which our minds are apt to clothe Him, and
which the theologies of men are so ready to foster. But this is a gospel
that says, Peace! peace! when there is no peace. The Gospel of Jesus
Christ does indeed reveal, and reveal very beautifully, the paternal
character of God; but it reveals at the same time that judicial
character which insists on the execution of His law. That God will
execute wrath on the impenitent and unbelieving is just as much a
feature of the Gospel as that He will bestow all the blessings of
salvation and eternal life on them that believe. What the Gospel reveals
respecting the sterner, the judicial, aspect of God's character is,
that there is no bitterness in His anger against sinners; there is
nothing in God's breast of that irritation and impatience which men are
so apt to show when their fellow-men have offended them; God's anger is
just. The calm, settled opposition of His nature to sin is the feeling
that dictates the sentence "The soul that sinneth, it shall die." The
Gospel is indeed a glorious manifestation of the love and grace of God
for sinners, but it is not an indiscriminate assurance of grace for all
sinners; it is an offer of grace to all who believe on God's Son, but it
is an essential article of the Gospel that without faith in Christ the
saving love and grace of God cannot be known. Instead of reducing the
character of God to mere good-nature, the Gospel brings His
righteousness more prominently forward than ever; instead of smoothing
the doom of the impenitent, it deepens their guilt, and it magnifies
their condemnation. Yes, my friends, and it is most wholesome for us all
to look at times steadily in the face this solemn attribute of God, as
the Avenger of the impenitent. It shows us that sin is not a thing to be
trifled with. It shows us that God's will is not a thing to be despised.
There are just two alternatives for thee, O sinner, who art not making
God's will the rule of thy life. Repent, believe, and be forgiven;
continue to sin, and be lost for ever.

The transaction in connection with which Saul was guilty of a fresh
disregard of God's will was an expedition which was appointed for him
against the Amalekites. This people had been guilty of some very
atrocious treatment of Israel in the wilderness of Sinai, the details of
which are not given. Nations having a corporate life, when they continue
to manifest the spirit of preceding generations, are held responsible
for their actions, and liable to the penalty. Saul was sent to inflict
on Amalek the retribution that had been due so long for his perfidious
treatment of Israel on the way to Canaan. In the narrative, various
places are mentioned as being in the Amalekite territory, but their
exact sites are not known; and indeed this matters little, all that it
is important to know being that the Amalekites were mainly a nomadic
people, occupying the fringe between Canaan and the desert on the south
border of Palestine, and doubtless subsisting to a large extent on the
prey secured by them when they made forays into the territories of
Israel. Saul gathered a great army to compass the destruction of this
bitter and hostile people.

In reading of the instructions he received to exterminate them, to "slay
both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass,"
we shudder to think of the fearful massacre which this involved. It was
an order similar to that which the Israelites received to exterminate
the inhabitants of Canaan, or that to destroy the Midianites, during the
lifetime of Moses. Though it seems very horrible to us in whose eyes
human life has become very sacred, it probably excited little feeling of
the kind in the breasts of the Israelites, accustomed as they were, and
as all Eastern nations were, to think very little of human life, and to
witness wholesale slaughter with little emotion. But there is one thing
in the order that we must not overlook, because it gave a complexion to
the transaction quite different from that of ordinary massacres. That
circumstance was, that the prey was to be destroyed as well as the
people. In the case of an ordinary massacre, the conquering people
abandon themselves to the licence of their passions, and hasten to
enrich themselves by appropriating everything of value on which they can
lay their hands. In the case of the Israelites, there was to be nothing
of the kind. They were to destroy the prey just as thoroughly as they
were to destroy the people. They were to enrich themselves in nothing.
Now, this was a most important modification of the current practice in
such things. But for this restriction, the extermination of the
Amalekites would have been a wild carnival of selfish passion. The
restriction appointed to Saul, like that which Joshua had imposed at
Jericho, bound the people to the most rigid self-restraint, under
circumstances when self-restraint was extremely difficult. The
extermination was to be carried into effect with all the solemnity of a
judicial execution, and the soldiers were to have no benefit from it
whatever, any more than the jailer or the hangman can have benefit from
the execution of some wretched murderer.

Now, let it be observed that it was in entirely disregarding this
restriction that a chief part of Saul's disobedience lay. "Saul and the
people spared Agag, and the best of the sheep, and of the oxen, and of
the fatlings and the lambs, and all that was good, and would not utterly
destroy them; but everything that was vile and refuse, that they
destroyed utterly." The sparing of King Agag seems to have been a piece
of vanity with Saul, for a conqueror returning home with a royal
prisoner was greatly thought of in those Eastern lands. But the sparing
of the prey was a matter of pure greed. Observe how the character of the
transaction was wholly changed by this circumstance. Instead of wearing
the aspect of a solemn retribution on a sinful nation, on a people laden
with iniquity, all the more impressive because the ministers of God's
vengeance abstained from appropriating a vestige of the property, but
consigned the whole, like a plague-stricken mass, too polluted to be
touched, to the furnace of destruction--instead of this, it just
appeared like an ordinary unprincipled foray, in which the victorious
party slew the other, mainly to get them out of the way and enable them
without opposition to appropriate their goods. It was this consideration
that made the offence of Saul so serious, that made his breach of the
Divine order so guilty. Had he no knowledge of the history of his
people? Did he not remember what had happened at Jericho in the days of
Joshua, when Achan stole the wedge of gold and the Babylonian garment,
and, in spite of the fact that the rest of the people had behaved well
and that God's purpose in the main was amply carried out, Achan and all
his family were judicially stoned to death? How could Saul expect that
such a flagrant violation of the Divine command in the case of the
Amalekites, perpetrated not on the sly by a single individual, but
openly by the king and all the people, could escape the retribution of
God?

Such then was Saul's conduct in the affair of Amalek. The next incident
in the narrative is the communication that took place regarding it
between the Lord and Samuel. Speaking after the manner of men, God said,
It repented Him that He had set up Saul to be king. That these words are
not to be explained in a strictly literal sense is evident from what is
said in ver. 29: "The strength of Israel will not lie nor repent, for He
is not a man that He should repent." The intimation to Samuel was
equivalent to this: that God was now done with Saul. He had been weighed
in the balances and found wanting. He had had his time of probation,
and he had failed. He was joined to his idols, and must now be let
alone. This last and very flagrant act of disobedience settled the
matter. "My Spirit shall not always strive with man."

How did Samuel receive the announcement? "It grieved Samuel, and he
cried to the Lord all night." It is the same word as is translated in
Jonah, "It displeased Jonah." But there is nothing to show that Samuel
was displeased with God. The whole transaction was disappointing,
worrying, heart-breaking. Doubtless he had a certain liking for Saul. He
admired his splendid figure and many fine kingly qualities. It was a
terrible struggle to give him up. The Divine announcement threw his mind
into a tumult. All night he cried unto the Lord. Doubtless his cry was
somewhat similar to our Lord's cry in Gethsemane, "If it be possible,
let this cup pass." If it be possible, recover Saul. And observe, Samuel
had good cause to raise this cry on account of the man who would
naturally have been Saul's successor. He must have had great complacency
in Jonathan. If Saul was to be set aside, why should not Jonathan have
the crown? On whose head would it sit more gracefully? In whose hand
would the sceptre be held more suitably? But even this plea would not
avail. It was God's purpose to mark the offence of Saul with a deeper
stigma, and attach to it in the mind of the nation a more conspicuous
brand, by cutting off his whole family and transferring the crown to a
quite different line. It took the whole night to reconcile Samuel to the
Divine sentence. How very deeply and tenderly must this man's heart have
been moved by regard for Saul and for the people! In the morning, his
soul seems to have returned to its quiet rest. His mood seems now to
have been, "Not my will but Thine be done!"

Next comes the meeting of Saul and Samuel. Samuel seems to have expected
to meet Saul at Carmel--the Carmel of Nabal (chap. xxv. 2)--but, perhaps
on purpose to avoid him, Saul hastened to Gilgal. And when they met
there, Saul, with no little audacity, claimed to have performed the
commandment of the Lord. That this plea was not advanced in simple
ignorance, as some have thought, is plain enough from Samuel's reception
of it and his rebuke. "What meaneth this bleating of sheep in mine ears
and the lowing of the oxen in my ears?" Facts are stubborn things, and
they make quick work of sophistry. Oh, says Saul, these are brought as a
sacrifice to the Lord thy God; they are an extra proof of my loyalty to
Him. Saul, Saul, is it not enough that thou didst allow the selfish
greed whether of thyself or of thy people to overbear the Divine
command? Must thou add the sin of hypocrisy, and pretend that it was a
pious act? And dost thou imagine that in so doing thou canst impose
either on Samuel, or on God? O sinners, you _do_ miscalculate fearfully
when you give to God's servants such false explanations of your sins!
How long, think you, will the flimsy material hold out? In the case of
Saul, it did not even enable him to turn the corner. It brought out a
fact which he must have trembled to hear: that Samuel had had a
communication about him from God the very night before, and that God had
spoken very plainly about him. And what had God said? God had proceeded
on the fact that Saul had disobeyed his voice, and had flown upon the
spoil to preserve what God had commanded him to destroy. "Nay," says
Saul, "it was not I that did that, but the people, and they did it to
sacrifice to the Lord thy God in Gilgal." The excuse hardly needed to be
exposed. Why did you let the people do so? Why did you not fulfil God's
command as faithfully as Joshua did at Jericho? Why did you allow
yourself, or the people either, to tamper with the clear orders given
you by your King and theirs? "Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice,
and to hearken than the fat of rams." Moral conduct is more than
ceremonial form. "Because thou hast rejected the word of the Lord, He
also hath rejected thee from being king."

This terrible word pierces Saul to the quick. He is thoroughly alarmed.
He makes acknowledgment of his sin in so far as he had feared the people
and obeyed their words. He entreats Samuel to forgive him and turn again
with him that he may worship God. He shows no evidence of true,
heartfelt repentance. And Samuel refuses to return with him, and refuses
to identify himself with one whom God hath rejected from being king. But
Saul is deeply in earnest. He tries to detain Samuel by force. He takes
hold of his mantle, and holds it so firmly that it rends. It is a
symbol, says Samuel, of the rending of the kingdom of Israel from thee
this day, to be given by God to a neighbour of thine that is better than
thou. And this is God's irreversible sentence. Your day of grace is
expired, and the Divine sentence is beyond recall. One more appeal does
Saul make to Samuel. Again he owns his sin, but the request he makes
shows clearly that what he is most anxious about is that he should not
appear dishonoured before the people. It is his own reputation that
concerns him. "Honour me now, I pray thee, before the elders of my
people and before Israel, and turn again with me, that I may worship
the Lord thy God." Samuel yields. The abject wretchedness of the man
seems to have touched him. But it is not said that Samuel worshipped
with him. Samuel would no doubt continue firm to his purpose not to
identify himself with Saul as king, or give him any moral support in his
attitude of disobedience. So far from that, Samuel openly superseded him
in dealing with Agag; he went out of his way, and did an act which could
not but appear a frightful one for a venerable prophet of the Lord. It
is the voice of the real king that sounds in the command, "Bring ye
hither to me Agag, the king of the Amalekites." We seem to see the royal
prisoner advancing cringingly before that imperial figure, in whose eye
there is a look, and in whose face and figure there is a determination,
that may well make him quail. "Surely," says Agag, imploringly, "the
bitterness of death is past." Spared by the king, I am not to fare worse
from the prophet. Samuel knew him a merciless destroyer. "As thy sword
hath made women childless, so shall thy mother be childless among
women." And Samuel hewed Agag in pieces before the Lord in Gilgal.
"Cursed be he that doeth the work of God deceitfully, and cursed be he
that withholdeth his sword from shedding of blood." It is a scene of
terror. The swift retribution executed on the one king was but the sign
of the slower retribution pronounced upon the other. In the one case the
doom was rapid; in the other it was deferred; in both it was sure. And
have we not here a sad picture of that retribution which is sure to come
on the impenitent sinner, and in the procedure of Samuel a foreshadowing
of Him who cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah, who will
one day speak to His enemies in His wrath and vex them in His hot
displeasure? Have we not here a foretaste of the opening of the sixth
seal, when the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men,
and the chief captains, and the mighty men, shall say to the mountains
and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of Him that sitteth on
the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb: _"for the great day of His
wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand"?_

And oh! how little in that day will those plausible excuses avail with
which men try to cover their sins to themselves, and it may be to
others. How will the hail sweep away the refuges of lies! How will the
real character of men's hearts, the true tenor of their lives, in
respect they have set aside God's will and set up their own, be revealed
in characters that cannot be mistaken! The question to be determined by
your life was, whether God or you was King. Which did you obey, God's
will or your own? Did you set aside God's will? Then you are certainly a
rebel; and never having repented, never having been washed, or
sanctified, or justified, your portion is with the rebels; the Father's
house is not for you!

And now the breach between Samuel and Saul is final. "Samuel came no
more to visit Saul until the day of his death; nevertheless Samuel
mourned for Saul; and the Lord repented that He had made Saul king over
Israel."

Saul is cut off now from his best means of grace--he is virtually an
excommunicated man. Was it hard? Do our sympathies in any degree go with
him? To our compassion he is entitled in the highest degree, but to
nothing more. Saul's worst qualities had now become petrified. His
wilfulness, his selfishness, his passionateness, his jealousy, had now
got complete control, nor could their current be turned aside. The
threat of losing his kingdom--perhaps the most terrible threat such a
man could have felt--had failed to turn him from his wayward course. He
was like the man in the iron cage in the "Pilgrim's Progress," who gave
his history: "I left off to watch and be sober; I laid the reins upon
the neck of my lusts; I sinned against the light of the word and the
goodness of God; I have grieved the Spirit and He is gone; I tempted the
devil, and he is come to me; I have provoked God to anger and He has
left me; I have so hardened my heart that I cannot repent."

It is a terrible lesson that comes to us from the career of Saul. If our
natural lusts are not under the restraint of a higher power; if by that
power we are not trained to watch, and check, and overpower them; if we
allow them to burst all restraint and lord it over us as they
will,--then will they grow into so many tyrants, who will rule us with
rods of iron; laugh at the feeble remonstrances of our conscience; scoff
at every messenger of God; vex His Holy Spirit, and hurl us at last to
everlasting woe!



CHAPTER XXII.

_DAVID ANOINTED BY SAMUEL._

1 SAMUEL xvi. 1-13.


The rejection of Saul was laid very deeply to heart by Samuel. No doubt
there were many engaging qualities in the man Saul, which Samuel could
not but remember, and which fed the flame of personal attachment, and
made the fact of his rejection hard to digest. And no doubt, too, Samuel
was concerned for the peace and prosperity of the nation. He knew that a
change of dynasty commonly meant civil war--it might lead to the inward
weakening of a kingdom already weak enough, and its exposure to the
attacks of hostile neighbours that watched with lynx eyes for any
opportunity of dashing against Israel. Thus both on personal and on
public grounds the rejection of Saul was a great grief to Samuel,
especially as the rejection of Saul implied the rejection of Jonathan,
and the prophet might ask, with no small reason, where, in all the
nation, could there be found a better successor.

It was not God's pleasure to reveal to Samuel the tragic events that
were to stretch Jonathan and his brothers among the dead on the same day
as their father; but it was His pleasure to introduce him to the man
who, at a future time, was to rule Israel according to the ideal which
the prophet had vainly endeavoured to press upon Saul. There is a
sharpness in God's expostulation with Samuel which implies that the
prophet's grief for Saul was carried to an excessive and therefore
sinful length. "How long wilt thou mourn for Saul, seeing I have
rejected him from reigning over Israel?" Grief on account of others
seems such a sacred, such a holy feeling, that we are not ready to
apprehend the possibility of its acquiring the dark hue of sin. Yet if
God's children abandon themselves to the wildest excess for some sorrow
which bears to them the character of a fatherly chastening; if they
refuse to give effect in any way to God's purpose in the matter, and to
the gracious ends which He designs it to serve, they are guilty of sin,
and that sin one which is greatly dishonouring to God. It can never be
right to shut God out of view in connection with our sorrows, or to
forget that the day is coming--impossible though it may seem--when His
character shall be so vindicated in all that has happened to His
children, that all tears shall be wiped from their eyes, and it shall be
seen that His tender mercies have been over all His works.

It was to Bethlehem, and to the family of Jesse, that Samuel was to go
to find the destined successor of Saul. The place was not so far distant
from Ramah as to be quite beyond the sphere of Samuel's acquaintance. Of
Jesse, one of the leading men of the place, he would probably have at
least a general knowledge, though it is plain he had not any personal
acquaintance with him, or knowledge of his family. Bethlehem had already
acquired a marked place in Hebrew history, and Samuel could not have
been ignorant of the episode of the young Moabite widow who had given
such a beautiful proof of filial piety, and among whose descendants
Jesse and his sons were numbered. The very name of Bethlehem was fitted
to recall how God honours those that honour Him, and might have rebuked
that outburst of fear which fell from Samuel, whose first thought was
that he could not go, because if Saul heard of it he would kill him.
Well, it is plain enough that, with all his glorious qualities as a
prophet, Samuel was but a man, subject to the infirmities of men. What
an honest book the Bible is! its greatest heroes coming down so often to
the human level and showing the same weaknesses as ourselves! But God,
who stoops to human weakness, who fortified the failing heart of Moses
at the burning bush, and the doubting heart of Gideon, and afterwards
the weary heart of Elijah and the trembling heart of Jeremiah,
condescends in like manner to the infirmity of Samuel, and provides him
with an ostensible object for his journey, which was not fitted to
awaken the jealous temper of the king. Samuel is to announce that his
coming to Bethlehem is for the purpose of a sacrifice, and the
circumstances connected with the anointing of a successor to Saul are to
be gone about so quietly and so vaguely that the great object of his
visit will hardly be so much as guessed by any.

The question has often been raised, Was this diplomatic arrangement not
objectionable? Was it not an act of duplicity and deceit? Undoubtedly it
was an act of concealment, but it does not follow that it was an act of
duplicity. It was concealment of a thing which Samuel was under no
obligation to divulge. It was not concealment of which the object was to
mislead any one, or to induce any one to do what he would not have done
had the whole truth been known to him. When concealment is practised in
order to take an unfair advantage of any one, or to secure an unworthy
advantage over him, it is a detestable crime. But to conceal what you
are under no obligation to reveal, when some important end is to be
gained, is a quite different thing. "It is the glory of God to conceal a
thing;" providence is often just a vast web of concealment; the trials
of Job were the fruit of Divine concealment; the answers of our Lord to
the Syrophoenician woman were a concealment; the delay in going to
Bethany when He heard of the illness of Lazarus was just a concealment
of the glorious miracle which He intended by-and-bye to perform. One may
tell the truth, and yet not the whole truth, without being guilty of any
injustice or dishonesty. It was not on Saul's account at all that Samuel
was sent to anoint a king at Bethlehem. It was partly on Samuel's
account and partly on David's. If David was hereafter to fill the
exalted office of king of Israel, it was desirable that he should be
trained for its duties from his earliest years. Saul had not been called
to the throne till middle life, till his character had been formed and
his habits settled; the next king must be called at an earlier period of
life. And though the boy's father and brothers may not understand the
full nature of the distinction before him, they must be made to
understand that he is called to a very special service of God, in order
that they may give him up freely and readily to such preparation as that
service demands. This seems to have been the chief reason of the mission
of Samuel to Bethlehem. It could not but be known after that, that David
was to be distinguished as a servant of God, but no idea seems to have
been conveyed either to his brothers or to the elders of Bethlehem that
he was going to be king.

The arrangements for the public worship of God in those times--while the
ark of God was still at Kirjath-jearim--seem to have been far from
regular, and it appears to have been not unusual for Samuel to visit
particular places for the purpose of offering a sacrifice. It would seem
that the ordinary, though not the uniform, occasion for such visits was
the occurrence of something blameworthy in the community, and if so this
will explain the terror of the elders of Bethlehem at the visit of
Samuel, and their frightened question, "Comest thou peaceably?" Happily
Samuel was able to set their fears at rest, and to assure them that the
object of his visit was entirely peaceable. It was a religious service
he was come to perform, such a service as may have been associated with
the other religious services he was accustomed to hold as he went round
in circuit in the neighbourhood of Ramah. For this sacrifice the elders
of Bethlehem were called to sanctify themselves, as were also Jesse and
his sons. They were to take the usual steps for freeing themselves of
all ceremonial uncleanness, and after the sacrifice they were to share
the feast. A considerable interval would necessarily elapse between the
sacrifice and the feast, for the available portions of the animal had to
be prepared for food, and roasted on the fire. It was during this
interval that Samuel made acquaintance with the sons of Jesse. First
came the handsome and stately Eliab. And strange it is that even with
the fate of the handsome and stately Saul full in his memory, Samuel
leapt to the conclusion that this was the Lord's anointed. Could he
wonder at God's emphatic No! Surely he had seen enough of outward
appearance coupled with inward unfitness. One trial of that criterion
had been enough for Israel.

But alas, it is not merely in the choice of kings that men are apt to
show their readiness to rest in the outward appearance. To what an
infinite extent has this tendency been carried in the worship of God!
Let everything be outwardly correct, the church beautiful, the music
excellent, the sermon able, the congregation numerous and
respectable--what a pattern such a church is often regarded! Alas! how
little satisfactory it may be to God. The eye that searches and knows us
penetrates to the heart,--it is there only that God finds the genuine
elements of worship. The lowly sense of personal unworthiness, the
wondering contemplation of the Divine love, the eager longing for mercy
to pardon and grace to help, the faith that grasps the promises, the
hope that is anchored within the veil, the kindness that breathes
benediction all round, the love that beareth all things, believeth all
things, hopeth all things, endureth all things,--it is these things,
breathing forth from the hearts of a congregation, that give pleasure to
God.

Or look at what often happens in secular life. See how intensely eager
some are about appearances. Why, it is one of the stereotyped rules of
society that it is necessary "to keep up appearances." Well-born people
may have become poor, very poor, but they must live to outward
appearance as if they were rich. Between rivals there may be a deadly
jealousy, but they must, by courtesy, keep up the form of friendship.
And in trade a substantial appearance must be given to goods that are
really worthless. And often, men who are really mean and unprincipled
must pose as persons very particular about the right and very indignant
at the wrong. And some, meaner than the common, must put on the cloak of
religion, and establish a character for sanctity.

The world is full of idolatries, but I question if any idolatry has been
more extensively practised than the idolatry of the outward appearance.
If there be less of this in our day than perhaps a generation back, it
is because in these days of sifting and trial men have learned in so
many ways by hard experience what a delusion it is to lean on such a
broken reed. Yes, and we have had men among us who from a point of view
not directly Christian have exposed the shams and counterfeits of the
age,--men like Carlyle, who have sounded against them a trumpet blast
which has been echoed and re-echoed round the very globe. But surely we
do not need to go outside the Bible for this great lesson. "Thou
desirest truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden part Thou shalt
make me to know wisdom;" "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord
will not hear me." Or if we pass to the New Testament, what is the great
lesson of the parable of the Publican and the Pharisee? The Publican was
a genuine man, an honest, humble, self-emptied sinner. The Pharisee was
a silly puffed-up pretender. The world seems to think that all high
profession must be hollow. I need not say that such an opinion is
utterly untenable. The world would have you profess nothing, lest you
should not come up to it. Christ says, "Abide in Me, so shall ye bear
much fruit." It was on this principle that St. Paul professed so much
and did so much. "The life that I live in the flesh, I live by the faith
of the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me."

There is nothing to be said of the other sons of Jesse. Only the
youngest one remained, apparently too young to be at the feast; he was
in the field, keeping the sheep. "And Jesse sent and brought him in. Now
he was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance" (_marg._ eyes),
"and goodly to look to. And the Lord said, Arise, anoint him, for this
is he." Though goodly to look at, he was too young, too boyish to be
preferred on the score of "outward appearance." It was qualities unseen,
and as yet but little developed, that commended him. Greatly astonished
must Jesse and his other sons have been to see Samuel pouring on the
ruddy stripling the holy oil, and anointing him for whatever the office
might be. But it has often been God's way to find His agents in
unexpected places. Here a great king is found in the sheepfold. In
Joseph's time a prime minister of Egypt was found in the prison. Our
Lord found His chief apostle in the school of Gamaliel. The great
Reformer of the sixteenth century was found in a poor miner's cottage.
God is never at a loss for agents, and if the men fail that might
naturally have been looked for to do Him service substitutes for them
are not far to seek. Out of the very stones He can raise up children to
Abraham.

But it was not a mere arbitrary arrangement that David should have been
a shepherd before he was king. There were many things in the one
employment that prepared the way for the other. In the East the shepherd
had higher rank and a larger sphere of duties than is common with us.
The duties of the shepherd, to watch over his flock, to feed and protect
them, to heal the sick, bind up the broken, and bring again that which
was driven away, corresponded to those which the faithful and godly
ruler owed to the people committed to his sceptre. It was from the time
of David that the shepherd phraseology began to be applied to rulers and
their people; and we hardly carry away the full lesson that the prophets
intended to teach in their denunciations of "the shepherds that fed
themselves and not the flock" when we apply these exclusively to the
shepherds of souls. So appropriate was the emblem of the shepherd for
denoting the right spirit and character of rulers, that it was
ultimately appropriated in a very high and peculiar sense to the person
and office of the Lord Jesus Christ. But long ere he appeared King David
had familiarised men's minds with the kind of benefits that flow from
the sceptre of a shepherd-ruler--the kind of blessings that were to flow
in their fulness from Christ. Never did he write a more expressive word
than this, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." On the
groundwork of his own earthly kingdom he had drawn the pattern of things
in heavenly places, for describing which in after times no language
could be found more suitable than that borrowed from his first
occupation.

But in full harmony with the character of Old Testament typology, the
glory of the thing symbolized was infinitely greater than the glory of
the symbol. Much though the nation owed to the godly administration of
him whom God "took from the sheepfold, and brought from following the
ewes great with young, to feed Jacob His people and Israel His
inheritance," these benefits were shadows indeed when compared with the
blessings procured by the great "Shepherd of Israel," "the good Shepherd
that giveth His life for the sheep," whose shepherd care does not
terminate with the life that now is, but will be exercised in eternity
in feeding them and leading them by living fountains of water, where God
shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.

There are other points of typical resemblance between David and Christ
that demand our notice here. If it was a strange-like thing for God to
find the model king of Israel in a sheepcot at Bethlehem, it was still
more so to find the Saviour of the world in a workshop at Nazareth. But
again; King David was chosen for qualities that did not fall in with the
ordinary conception of what was king-like, but qualities that commended
him to God; and in the same manner the Lord Jesus Christ, God's Elect,
in whom His soul delighted, was not marked by those attributes which men
might have considered suitable in one who was to gain the empire of the
world. "He shall grow up as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry
ground; He hath no form nor comeliness, and when we shall see Him there
is no beauty that we should desire Him." In bodily form the Lord Jesus
would seem to have resembled David rather than Saul. There is no reason
to think that there was any great physical superiority in Christ, that
He was taller than the common, or that He was distinguished by any of
those physical features that at first sight captivate men. And even in
the region of intellectual and spiritual influence, our Lord did not
conform to the type that naturally commands the confidence and
admiration of the world. He had a still, quiet manner. His eloquence did
not flash, nor blaze, nor flow like a torrent. The power of His words
was due more to their wonderful depth of meaning, going straight to the
heart of things, and to the aptness of His homely illustrations. Our
Lord's mode of conquest was very remarkable. He conquered by gentleness,
by forbearance, by love, by sympathy, by self-denial. He impressed men
with the glory of sacrifice, the glory of service, the glory of
obedience, obedience to the one great authority--the will of God--to
which all obedience is due. He inspired them with a love of
purity,--purity of heart, purity after the highest pattern. If you
compare our blessed Lord with those who have achieved great conquests,
you cannot but see the difference. I do not mean with conquerors like
Alexander, or Cæsar, or Napoleon. Napoleon himself at St. Helena showed
in a word the vast difference between Christ and them. "Our conquests,"
said he, "have been achieved by force, but Jesus achieved His by love,
and to-day millions would die for Him." But look at some who have
conquered by gentler means. Take such men as Socrates, or Plato, or
Aristotle. They achieved great intellectual conquests--they founded
intellectual empires. But the intellect of Jesus Christ was of another
order from theirs. He propounded no theory of the universe, He did not
affect to explain the world of reason, He did not profess to lay bare
the laws of the human mind, or prescribe conditions for the welfare of
states. What strikes us about Christ's method of influence is its quiet
homeliness. Yet quiet and homely though it was and is, how prodigious,
how unprecedented has been its power! What other king of men has wielded
a tithe of His influence? And that not with one class of society, but
with all; not only with the poor and uneducated, but with thinkers and
men of genius as well; not only with men and women who know the world,
and know their own hearts and all their wants, and apprehend the fitness
of Christ to supply them, but even with little children, in the simple
unconsciousness of opening years. For out of the mouths of babes and
sucklings He hath perfected praise.

Now let us mark this also, in conclusion, that besides being a King
Himself Jesus makes all His people kings to God. Every Christian is
designed to be a ruler, an unconscious one it may be, but one who
exercises an influence in the same direction as Christ's. How can you
accomplish this? By first of all drinking into Christ's spirit, looking
out on the world as He did, with compassion, sympathy, self-sacrifice,
and an ardent desire for its renovation and its happiness. By walking
"worthy of the vocation wherewith you are called." Not by the
earthquake, or by the tempest, but by the still small voice. By quiet,
steady, persistent love, goodness, and self-denial. These are the true
Christian weapons, often little thought of, but really the armour of
God, and weapons mighty to the pulling down of strongholds and the
subjugation of the world to Christ.



CHAPTER XXIII.

_DAVID'S EARLY LIFE._[2]

1 SAMUEL xvi. 14-23.


Before we enter at large into the incident of which these verses form
the record it is desirable to settle, as far as we can, the order of
events in the early life of David.

After being anointed by Samuel, David would probably return to his work
among the sheep. It is quite possible that some years elapsed before
anything else occurred to vary the monotony of his first occupation. The
only interruption likely to have occurred to his shepherd life would be,
intercourse with Samuel. It is rather striking that nothing is said,
nothing is even hinted, as to the private relations that prevailed in
youth between him and the venerable prophet who had anointed him with
the holy oil. But it cannot be supposed that Samuel would just return to
Ramah without any further communication with the youth that was to play
so important a part in the future history of the country. If Saul, with
all his promising qualities at the beginning, had greatly disappointed
him, he could only be the more anxious on that account about the
disposition and development of David. The fact that after David became
the object of the murderous jealousy of Saul, it was to Samuel he came
when he fled from the court to tell what had taken place, and to ask
advice (ch. xix. 18, 19), seems to indicate that the two men were on
intimate terms, and therefore that they had been much together before.
Whether David derived his views of government from Samuel, or whether
they were impressed on him directly by the Spirit of God, it is certain
that they were the very same as those which Samuel cherished so
intensely, and which he sought so earnestly to impress on Saul. God's
imperial sovereignty, and the earthly king's entire subordination to
him; the standing of the people as God's people, God's heritage, and the
duty of the king to treat them as such, and do all that he could for
their good; the infinite and inexhaustible privilege involved in this
relation, making all coquetting with false gods shameful, dishonouring
to God, and disastrous to the people,--were ruling principles with
Samuel and David alike. If David was never formally a pupil of Samuel's,
informally he must have been so to a large extent. Samuel lived in
David; and the complacency which the old prophet must have had in his
youthful friend, and his pleasure in observing the depth of his loyalty
to God, and his eager interest in the highest welfare of the people,
must have greatly mitigated his distress at the rejection of Saul, and
revived his hope of better days for Israel.

As David grew in years, but before he ceased to be a boy, he might
acquire that local reputation as "a mighty valiant man and a man of war"
which his friend referred to when he first mentioned him to Saul. In him
as in Jonathan faith gendered a habit of dash and daring which could not
be suppressed in the days of eager boyhood. The daring insolence of the
Philistines, whose country lay but a few miles to the west of
Bethlehem, might afford him opportunities for deeds of boyish valour.
Jerusalem, the stronghold of the Jebusites, was but two hours distant
from Bethlehem, and on the part of its people, too, collisions with
Israelites were doubtless liable to occur. It may have been now, or
possibly a little later, that the contest occurred with the lion and the
bear. The country round Bethlehem was not a peaceful paradise, and the
career of a shepherd was not the easy life of lovesick swains which
poets dream.

It was at this period of David's life that Saul's peculiar malady took
that form which suggested the use of music to soothe his nervous
irritation. His courtiers recommended that he should seek out a cunning
player on the harp, whose soothing strains would calm him in the
paroxysms of his ailment. Obviously, it was desirable that one who was
to be so close to a king so full of the military spirit as Saul should
have a touch of that spirit himself. David had become known to one of
the courtiers, who at once mentioned him as in all respects suitable for
the berth. Saul accordingly sent messengers to Jesse, bidding him send
to him David his son, who was with the sheep. And David came to Saul.
But his first visit seems to have been quite short. Saul's attacks were
probably occasional, and at first long intervals may have occurred
between them. When he recovered from the attack at which David had been
sent for, the cunning harper was needed no longer, and would naturally
return home. He may have been but a very short time with Saul, too short
for much acquaintance being formed. But it is the way of the historians
of Scripture, when a topic has once been introduced, to pursue it to its
issues without note of the events that came between. The writer having
indicated how David was first brought into contact with Saul, as his
musician, pursues the subject of their relation, without mentioning that
the fight with Goliath occurred between. Some critics have maintained
that in this book we have two accounts of David's introduction to Saul,
accounts which contradict one another. In the first of them he became
known to him first as a musician sent for in the height of his attack.
In the other it is as the conqueror of Goliath he appears before Saul.
It is the fact that neither Saul nor any of his people knew on this
occasion who he was that is so strange. According to our view the order
of events was this: David's first visit to Saul to play before him on
his harp was a very short one. Some time after the conflict with Goliath
occurred. David's appearance had probably changed considerably, so that
Saul did not recognize him. It was now that Saul attached David to
himself, kept him permanently, and would not let him return to his
father's house (ch. xviii. 2). And while David acted as musician,
playing to him on his harp in the paroxysms of his ailment (ch. xviii.
10), he went out at his command on military expeditions, and acquired
great renown as a warrior (ch. xviii. 5). Thus, to turn back to the
sixteenth chapter, the last two verses of that chapter record the
permanent office before Saul which David came to fill after the
slaughter of the Philistine. In fact, we find in that chapter, as often
elsewhere, a brief outline of the whole course of events, some of which
are filled up in minute detail in the chapter following.

Having thus settled the chronology, or rather the order of events in
David's early history, it may be well now to examine more fully that
period of his life, in so far as we have any materials for doing so.

According to the chronology of the Authorized Version, the birth of
David must have occurred about the year before Christ 1080. It was about
a hundred years later than the date commonly assigned to the Trojan war,
and therefore a considerable time before the dawn of authentic history,
at least among the Greeks or the Romans. The age of David succeeded what
might be called the heroic age of Hebrew history; in one sense, indeed,
it was a continuation of that period. Samson, the latest, and in some
sense the greatest of the Jewish heroes, had perished not very long
before; and the scene of his birth and of some of his most famous
exploits lay within a very few miles of Bethlehem. In David's boyhood
old men would still be living who had seen and talked with the Hebrew
Hercules, and from whose lips high-spirited boys would hear, with
sparkling eye and heaving bosom, the story of his exploits and the
tragedy of his death. The whole neighbourhood would swarm with songs and
legends illustrative of the deeds of those mighty men of valour, that
ever since the sojourn in Egypt had been conferring renown on the Hebrew
name. The mind of boyhood delights in such narratives; they rouse the
soul, expand the imagination, and create sympathy with all that is brave
and noble. We cannot doubt that such things had a great effect on the
susceptible temperament of the youthful David, and contributed some
elements of that manly and invincible spirit which remained so prominent
in his character.

But a much more important factor in determining his character and
shaping his life was the religious awakening in which Samuel had so
prominent a share. Not a word is said anywhere of the manner in which
David's heart was first turned to God; but this must have been in his
earliest years. We think of David as we think of Samuel, or Jeremiah, or
Josiah, or John the Baptist, as sanctified to the Lord from his very
childhood. God chose him at the very outset in a more vital sense than
He afterwards chose him to be king. In the exercise of that mysterious
sovereignty which we are unable to fathom, God made his youthful heart a
plot of good soil, into which when the seed fell it bore fruit an
hundredfold. In strong contrast to Saul, whose early sympathies were
against the ways and will of God, those of David were warmly for them.
Samuel would find him an eager and willing listener when he spoke to him
of God and His ways. How strange are the differences of young persons,
in this respect, when they come first under the instructions of a
minister or other servant of God! Some so earnest, so attentive, so
impressed; so ready to drink in all that is said; treasuring it, hiding
it in their hearts, rejoicing in it like those that find great spoil.
Others so hard to bring into line, so glad of an excuse for absence, so
difficult to interest, so fitful and unconcerned. No doubt much depends
on the skill of the teacher in working upon anything in their minds that
gives even a faint response to the truth. And in no case is the aversion
of the heart beyond the power of the Holy Spirit to influence and to
change. But for all that, we cannot but acknowledge the mysterious
sovereignty which through causes we cannot trace makes one man so to
differ from another; which made Abel so different from Cain, Isaac from
Ishmael, Moses from Balaam, and David from Saul.

Was David at any time a member of any of the schools of the prophets? We
cannot say with certainty, but when we ponder what we read about them
it seems very likely that he was. These schools seem to have enjoyed in
an eminent degree the gracious power of the Holy Spirit. The hearts of
the inmates seem to have burned with the glow of devotion; the emotions
of holy joy with which they were animated could not be restrained, but
poured out from them, like streams from a gushing fountain, in holy
songs and ascriptions to God; and such was the overpowering influence of
this spirit that for a time it infected even cold-hearted men like Saul,
and bore them along, as an enthusiastic crowd gathers up stragglers and
sweeps them onward in its current. It seems highly probable that it was
in connection with these institutions, on which so signal a blessing
rested, that the devotional spirit became so powerful in David
afterwards poured out so freely in his Psalms. For surely he could not
be in the company of men who were so full of the Spirit without sharing
their experience and pouring forth the feelings that stirred his soul.

We all believe in some degree in the law of heredity, and find it
interesting to trace the features of forefathers, physical and
spiritual, in the persons of their descendants. The piety, the humanity,
and the affectionateness of Boaz and Ruth form a beautiful picture in
the early Hebrew history, and seem to come before us anew in the
character of David. Boaz was remarkable for the fatherly interest he
took in his dependants, for his generous kindness to the poor, and for a
spirit of gentle piety that breathed even through his secular life. Was
it not the same spirit that dictated the benediction, "Blessed is he
that considereth the poor; the Lord will deliver him in time of
trouble"? Was it not the same interest in the welfare of dependants that
David showed when "he dealt among the people, even the whole multitude
of Israel, as well to the women as to the men, to every one a cake of
bread, and a good piece of flesh, and a flagon of wine? Ruth again was
remarkable for the extraordinary depth and tenderness of her affection;
her words to Naomi have never been surpassed as an expression of simple,
tender feeling: "Entreat me not to leave thee, nor to return from
following after thee; for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou
lodgest I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my
God." Does not this extraordinary tenderness seem to have fallen
undiminished to the man who had such an affection for Jonathan, who
showed such emotion on the illness of his infant child, and poured out
such a flood of anguish on the death of Absalom? The history of Boaz and
Ruth would surely take hold very early of his mind. The very house in
which he lived, the fields where he tended his sheep, every object
around him, might have associations with their memory; aged people might
tell him stories of their benevolence, and pious people give him
traditions of their godliness, and thus an element would be contributed
to a character in which the tenderness of a woman and the piety of a
saint were combined with the courage and energy of a man.

The birthplace of David, Bethlehem, is more remarkable for its moral
associations than its natural features. Well has it been said by Edward
Robinson of the place where both David and Jesus were born, "What a
mighty influence for good has gone forth from this little spot upon the
human race both for time and for eternity!" It was situated some six
miles to the south of Jerusalem, and about twice that distance to the
north of Hebron. The present town is built upon the north and north-east
slope of a long grey ridge, with a deep valley in front and another
behind, uniting at no great distance, and running down toward the Dead
Sea. The country around is hilly, but hardly beautiful; the limestone
rock gives a bare appearance to the hills, which is not redeemed by
boldness of form or picturesqueness of outline. The fields, though stony
and rough, produce good crops of grain; olive groves, fig-orchards, and
vineyards abound both in the valleys and on the gentler slopes; the
higher and wilder tracts were probably devoted to the pasturing of
flocks. The whole tract in which Hebron, Bethlehem, and Jerusalem are
situated is elevated nearly four thousand feet above the level of Jordan
and the Dead Sea on the one side, and between two and three thousand
feet above the Mediterranean on the other. Among these hills and valleys
David spent his youth, watching the flocks of his father.

We have seen that the life of a shepherd in those scenes was not without
its times of danger, making great demands on the shepherd's courage and
affection. In the main, however, it was a quiet life, affording copious
opportunities for meditation and for quiet study. It was the great
privilege of David to see much of God in His works and to commune with
Him therein. The Psalms are full of allusions to the varied aspects of
nature--the mountains, the rocks, the rivers, the valleys, the forests,
the lightning, the thunder, the whirlwind.

It is not easy to say how much of the written Word existed in David's
time, but at the most it could be but a fragment of what we now possess.
But if the mines of revelation were few, all the more eager was his
search for their hidden treasures. And David had the advantage of using
what we may call a pictorial Bible. When he read of the destruction of
Sodom he could see the dark wall of Moab frowning over the lake near to
which the guilty cities were consumed by the fire of heaven. When he
paused to think of the solemn transactions at Machpelah, he could see in
the distance the very spot where so much sacred dust was gathered. Close
by his daily haunts one pillar marked the place where God spake to
Jacob, and another the spot where poor Rachel died. In the dark range of
Moab yon lofty peak was the spot whence Moses had his view and Balaam
his vision. It was from that eminence the prophet from Pethor saw a star
come out of Jacob and a sceptre rise out of Israel that should smite the
corners of Moab and destroy all the children of Seth. The sympathy with
God fostered by these studies and meditations was of the closest kind;
an unusually clear and impressive knowledge seems to have been acquired
of the purpose of God concerning Israel; drinking in himself the lessons
of revelation, he was becoming qualified to become the instrument of the
Holy Spirit for those marvellous contributions to its canon which he was
afterwards honoured to make.

And among these hills and valleys, too, David would acquire his
proficiency in the two very different arts which were soon to make him
famous--the use of the sling and the use of the harp. It seems to have
been his ambition, whatever he did, to do it in the best possible way.
His skill in the use of the sling was so perfect that he could project a
stone even at a small object with unerring certainty. His harp was
probably a very simple instrument, small enough to be carried about with
him, but in handling it he acquired the same perfect skill as in
handling his sling. In his hands it became a wonderfully expressive
instrument. And hence, when Saul required a skilful musician to soothe
him, the known gifts of the young shepherd of Bethlehem pointed him out
as the man.

Of the influence of music in remedying disorders of the nerves there is
no want of evidence. "Bochart has collected many passages from profane
writers which speak of the medicinal effects of music on the mind and
body, especially as appeasing anger and soothing and pacifying a
troubled spirit" (_Speaker's Commentary_). A whole book was written on
the subject by Caspar Læscherus, Professor of Divinity at Wittenberg
(A.D. 1688). Kitto and other writers have added more recent instances.
It is said of Charles IX. of France that after the massacre of St.
Bartholomew his sleep was disturbed by nightly horrors, and he could
only be composed to rest by a symphony of singing boys. Philip V. of
Spain, being seized with deep dejection of mind that unfitted him for
all public duties, a celebrated musician was invited to surprise the
king by giving a concert in the neighbouring apartment to his majesty's,
with the effect that the king roused himself from his lethargy and
resumed his duties. We may readily believe that in soothing power the
harp was not inferior to any of the other instruments.

Still, with all its success, it was but a poor method of soothing a
troubled spirit compared to the methods that David was afterwards to
employ. It dealt chiefly with man's physical nature, it soothed the
nervous system, and removed the hindrance which their disorder caused to
the action of the powers of the mind. It did not strike at the root of
all trouble--alienation from God; it did not attempt to create and apply
the only permanent remedy for trouble--trust in a loving Father's care.
It was a mere foreshadow, on a comparatively low and earthly ground, of
the way in which David, as the Psalmist, was afterwards to provide the
true "oil of joy for the mourner," and to become a guide to the downcast
soul from the fearful pit and the miry clay up to the third heaven of
joy and peace. The sounds of his harp could only operate by an influence
felt alike by saint and sinner in soothing an agitated frame; but with
the words of his Psalms, the Divine Spirit, by whose inspiration they
were poured out, was in all coming ages to unite Himself, and to use
them for showing the sin-burdened soul the true cause of its misery, and
for leading it by a holy path, sorrowing yet rejoicing, to the home of
its reconciled Father.

It is a painful thing to see any one in overwhelming trouble; it is
doubly painful to see kings and others in high places miserable amid all
their splendours, helpless amid all their resources. Alas, O spirit of
man, what awful trials thou art subject to! Well mayest thou sometimes
envy the very animals around thee, which, if they have no such
capacities of enjoyment as thou hast, have on the other hand no such
capacities of misery. The higher our powers and position, the more awful
the anguish when anything goes wrong. Yet hast thou not, O man, a
capacity to know that thy misery cannot be remedied till the cause of it
is removed? Prodigal son, there is but one way to escape a miserable
life. Arise, go to thy Father. See how He is in Christ reconciling the
world to Himself, not imputing to men their trespasses. Accept His
offers and be at peace. Receive His Spirit and your disorder shall be
healed. I own that not even then can we assure you of freedom from
grievous sorrows. The best of men in this world have often most grievous
sufferings. But they are strengthened to bear them while they last; they
are assured that all things work together for good to them that love
God, to them that are the called according to His purpose; and they know
that when "the earthly house of their tabernacle is dissolved, they have
a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens."

FOOTNOTES:

[2] A few paragraphs on the Life of David are reproduced from the
author's book "David, King of Israel."



CHAPTER XXIV.

_DAVID'S CONFLICT WITH GOLIATH._

1 SAMUEL xvii.


These irrepressible Philistines were never long recovering from their
disasters. The victory of Jonathan had been impaired by the exhaustion
of the soldiers, caused by Saul's fast preventing them from pursuing the
enemy as far, and destroying their force as thoroughly, as they might
have done. A new attack was organised against Israel, headed by a
champion, Goliath of Gath, whose height must have approached the
extraordinary stature of ten feet. Against this army Saul arrayed his
force, and the two armies fronted each other on opposite sides of the
valley of Elah. This valley has generally been identified with that
which now bears the name of Wady-es-Sumt--a valley running down from the
plateau of Judah to the Philistine plain, not more than perhaps eight or
ten miles from Bethlehem. The Philistine champion appears to have been a
man of physical strength corresponding to the massiveness of his body.
The weight of his coat of mail is estimated at more than one hundred and
fifty pounds, and the head of his spear eighteen pounds. Remembering the
extraordinary feats of Samson, the Philistines might well fancy that it
was now their turn to boast of a Hercules. Day after day Goliath
presented himself before the army of Israel, calling proudly for a
foeman worthy of his steel, and demanding that in default of any one
able to fight with him and kill him, the Israelites should abandon all
dream of independence, and become vassals of the Philistines. And
morning and evening, for nearly six weeks, had this proud challenge been
given, but never once accepted. Even Jonathan, who had faith enough and
courage enough and skill enough for so much, seems to have felt himself
helpless in this great dilemma. The explanation that has sometimes been
given of his abstention, that it was not etiquette for a king's son to
engage in fight with a commoner, can hardly hold water; Jonathan showed
no such squeamishness at Michmash; and besides, in cases of desperation
etiquette has to be thrown to the winds. Of the host of Israel, we read
simply that they were dismayed. Nor does Saul seem to have renewed the
attempt to get counsel of God after his experience on the day of
Jonathan's victory. The Israelites could only look on in grim
humiliation, sullenly guarding the pass by the valley into their
territories, but returning a silent refusal to the demand of the
Philistines either to furnish a champion or to become their servants.

The coming of David upon the scene corresponded in its accidental
character to the coming of Saul into contact with Samuel, to be
designated for the throne. Everything seemed to be casual, yet those
things which seemed most casual were really links in a providential
chain leading to the gravest issues. It seemed to be by chance that
David had three brothers serving in Saul's army; it seemed also to be by
chance that their father sent his youthful shepherd son to inquire after
their welfare; it was not by design that as he saluted his brethren
Goliath came up and David heard his words of defiance; still less was
it on purpose to wait for David that Saul had sent no one out as yet to
encounter the Philistine; and nothing could have appeared more
ridiculous than that the challenge should wait to be answered by the
stripling shepherd, who, with his sling and shepherd's bag thrown over
his shoulder, had so little of the appearance of a man of war. It seemed
very accidental, too, that the only part of the giant's person that was
not thoroughly defended by his armour, his eyes and a morsel of his
forehead above them, was the only part of him on which a small stone
from a sling could have inflicted a fatal injury. But obviously all
these were parts of the providential plan by which David was at once to
confer on his country a signal boon, and to raise his name to the
pinnacle of fame. And, as usual, all the parts of this pre-arranged plan
fell out without constraint or interference; a new proof that Divine
pre-ordination does not impair the liberty of man.

One cannot but wonder whether, in offering his prayers that morning,
David had any presentiment of the trial that awaited him, anything to
impel him to unwonted fervour in asking God that day to establish the
works of his hands upon him. There is no reason to think that he had.
His prayers that morning were in all likelihood his usual prayers. And
if he was sincere in the expression of his own sense of weakness, and in
his supplication that God would strengthen him for all the day's duties,
it was enough. Oh! how little we know what may be before us, on some
morning that dawns on us just as other days, but which is to form a
great crisis in our life. How little the boy that is to tell his first
lie that day thinks of the serpent that is lying in wait for him! How
little the girl that is to fall in with her betrayer thinks of the
snare preparing for her body and her soul! How little the party that are
to be upset in the pleasure boat and consigned to a watery grave think
how the day is to end! Should we not pray more really, more earnestly if
we did realise these possibilities? True, indeed, the future is hid from
us, and we do not usually experience the impulse to earnestness which it
would impart. But is it not a good habit, as you kneel each morning, to
think, "For aught I know, this may be the most important day of my life.
The opportunity may be given me of doing a great service in the cause of
truth and righteousness; or the temptation may assail me to deny my Lord
and ruin my soul. O God, be not far from me this day; prepare me for all
that Thou preparest for me!"

The distance from Bethlehem being but a few hours' walk, David starting
in the morning would arrive early in the day at the quarters of the
army. When he heard the challenge of the Philistine he was astonished to
find that no one had taken it up. There was a mystery about this, about
the cowardice of his countrymen, perhaps about the attitude of Jonathan,
that he could not solve. Accordingly, with all that earnestness and
curiosity with which one peers into all the circumstances surrounding a
mystery, he asked, what encouragement there was to volunteer, what
reward was any one to receive who should kill this Philistine? Not that
he personally was caring about the reward, but he wished to solve the
mystery. It is evident that the consideration that moved David himself
was that the Philistine had defied the armies of the living God. It was
the same arrogant claim to be above the God of Israel, which had puffed
up their minds when they took possession of the ark and placed it in the
temple of their god. "You thought so that day," David might mutter,
"but what did you think next morning, when the mutilated image of your
god lay prostrate on the floor? Please God, your sensations to-morrow,
yea, this very forenoon, shall be such as they were then." The spirit of
faith started into full and high activity, and the same kind of
inspiration that had impelled Jonathan to climb into the garrison at
Michmash now impelled David to vindicate the blasphemed name of Jehovah.
Was it the flash of this inspiration in his eye, was it the tone of it
in his voice, was it the consciousness that something desperate was to
follow in the way of personal faith and daring, that roused the temper
of Eliab, and drew from him a withering rebuke of the presumption of the
stripling that dared to meddle with such matters? Eliab certainly did
not spare him. Elder brothers are seldom remiss in rebuking the
presumption of younger. "Why camest thou down hither? And with whom hast
thou left those few sheep in the wilderness? I know thy pride and the
naughtiness of thy heart; for thou art come down that thou mightest see
the battle." Irritating though such language was, it was borne with
admirable meekness. "What have I now done? Is there not a cause?" "He
that ruleth his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city." Eliab
showed himself defeated by his own temper, a most mortifying defeat;
David held his temper firmly in command. Which was the greater, which
the better man? And the short question he put to Eliab was singularly
apt, "Is there not a cause?" When all you men of war are standing
helpless and perplexed in the face of this great national insult, is
there not a cause why I should inquire into the matter, if, by God's
help, I can do anything for my God and my people?

Undaunted by his brother's volley, he turned to some one else, and
obtained a similar answer to his questions. Inspiration is a rapid
process, and the course for him to pursue was now fully determined upon.
His indignant tone and confident reliance on the God of Israel, so
unlike the tone of every one else, excited the attention of the
bystanders; they rehearsed his words to Saul, and Saul sent for him. And
when he came to Saul, there was not the slightest trace of fear or
faintheartedness about him. "Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy
servant will go and fight with this Philistine." Brave words, but, as
Saul thinks, very foolish. "_You_ go and fight with the Philistine? you
a mere shepherd boy, who never knew the brunt of battle, and he a man of
war from his youth?" Yes, Saul, that is just the way for you to speak,
with your earthly way of viewing things; you, who measure strength only
by a carnal standard, who know nothing of the faith that removes
mountains, who forget the meaning of the name ISRA-EL, and never spent
an hour as Jacob spent his night at Peniel! Listen to the reply of
faith. "And David said unto Saul, Thy servant kept his father's sheep,
and there came a lion and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock; and
I went out after him and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth;
and when he arose against me I caught him by his beard, and smote him
and slew him. Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear; and this
uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of them, seeing he hath defied
the armies of the living God. David said moreover, The Lord that
delivered me out of the paw of the lion, and out of the paw of the bear,
He will deliver me out of the hand of this Philistine."

Could there have been a nobler exercise of faith, a finer instance of a
human spirit taking hold of the Invisible; fortifying itself against
material perils by realizing the help of an unseen God; resting on His
sure word as on solid rock; flinging itself fearlessly on a very sea of
dangers; confident of protection and victory from Him? The only help to
faith was the remembrance of the encounter with the lion and the bear,
and the assurance that the same gracious help would be vouchsafed now.
But no heart that was not full of faith would have thought of that,
either as an evidence that God worked by him then, or as a sure pledge
that God would work by him now. How many an adventurer or sportsman,
that in some encounter with wild animals has escaped death by the very
skin of his teeth, thinks only of his luck, or the happiness of the
thought that led him to do so and so in what seemed the very article of
death? A deliverance of this kind is no security against a like
deliverance afterwards; it can give nothing more than a hope of escape.
The faith of David recognized God's merciful hand in the first
deliverance, and that gave an assurance of it in the other. What! would
that God that had helped him to rescue a lamb fail him while trying to
rescue a nation? Would that God that had sustained him when all that was
involved was a trifling loss to his father fail him in a combat that
involved the salvation of Israel and the honour of Israel's God? Would
He who had subdued for him the lion and the bear when they were but
obeying the instincts of their nature, humiliate him in conflict with
one who was defying the armies of the living God? The remembrance of
this deliverance confirmed his faith and urged him to the conflict, and
the victory which faith thus gained was complete. It swept the decks
clear of every vestige of terror; it went right to the danger, without
a particle of misgiving.

There are two ways in which faith may assert its supremacy. One,
afterwards very familiar to David, is, when it has first to struggle
hard with distrust and fear; when it has to come to close quarters with
the suggestions of the carnal mind, grapple with these in mortal
conflict, strangle them, and rise up victorious over them. For most men,
most believing men, it is only thus that faith rises to her throne. The
other way is, to spring to her throne in a moment; to assert her
authority, free and independent, utterly regardless of all that would
hamper her, as free from doubt and misgiving as a little child in his
father's arms, conscious that whatever is needed that father will
provide. It was this simple, child-like, but most triumphant exercise of
faith that David showed in undertaking this conflict. Happy they who are
privileged with such an attainment! Only let us beware of despairing if
we cannot attain to this prompt, instinctive faith. Let us fall back
with patience on that other process where we have to fight in the first
instance with our fears and misgivings, driving them from us as David
had often to do afterwards: "Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why
art thou disquieted in me? Hope in God, for I will yet praise Him who is
the health of my countenance and my God."

And now David prepared himself for the contest. Saul, ever carnal, and
trusting only in carnal devices, is fain to clothe him in his armour,
and David makes trial of his coat of mail; but he is embarrassed by a
heavy covering to which he is not accustomed, and which only impedes the
freedom of his arm. It is plain enough that it is not in Saul's panoply
that he can meet the Philistine. He must fall back on simpler means.
Choosing five smooth stones out of the brook, with his shepherd's staff
in one hand and his sling in the other, he drew near to the Philistine.
When Goliath saw him no words were bitter enough for his scorn. He had
sought a warrior to fight with; he gets a boy to annihilate. It is a
paltry business. "Come to me, and I will give thy flesh to the fowls of
the air and to the beasts of the fields." "Thus saith the Lord, Let not
the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in
his might." Was ever such proof given of the sin and folly of boasting
as in the case of Goliath? And yet, as we should say, how natural it was
for Goliath! But pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit
before a fall. In the spiritual conflict it is the surest presage of
defeat. It was the Goliath spirit that puffed up St. Peter when he said
to his Master, "Lord, I will go with Thee to prison and to death." It is
the same spirit against which St. Paul gives his remarkable warning,
"Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." Can it be
said that it is a spirit that Churches are always free from? Are they
never tempted to boast of the talents of their leading men, the success
of their movements, and their growing power and influence in the
community? And does not God in His providence constantly show the sin
and folly of such boasting? "Because thou sayest, I am rich and
increased with goods, and have need of nothing, and knowest not that
thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked."

In beautiful contrast with the scornful self-confidence of Goliath was
the simplicity of spirit and the meek, humble reliance on God, apparent
in David's answer: "Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear,
and with a shield; but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts,
the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied. This day will
the Lord deliver thee into my hand; and I will smite thee, and take
thine head from thee; and I will give the carcases of the Philistines
this day to the fowls of the air and to the wild beasts of the earth,
that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel. And all this
assembly shall know that the Lord saveth not with sword and spear; for
the battle is the Lord's, and He will give you into our hand."

What a reality God was to David! He advanced "as seeing Him who is
invisible." Guided by the wisdom of God, he chose his method of attack,
with all the simplicity and certainty of genius. Conscious that God was
with him, he fearlessly met the enemy. A man of less faith might have
been too nervous to take the proper aim. Undisturbed by any fear of
missing, David hurls the stone from his sling, hits the giant on the
unprotected part of his forehead, and in a moment has him reeling on the
ground. Advancing to his prostrate foe, he seizes his sword, cuts off
his head, and affords to both friends and foes unmistakable evidence
that his opponent is dead. Rushing from their tents, the Philistines fly
towards their own country, hotly pursued by the Israelites. It was in
these pursuits of flying foes that the greatest slaughter occurred in
those Eastern countries, and the whole road was strewn with the dead
bodies of the foe to the very gates of Ekron and Gaza. In this pursuit,
however, David did not mingle. With the head of the Philistine in his
hands, he came to Saul. It is said that afterwards he took the head of
Goliath to Jerusalem, which was then occupied, at least in part, by the
Benjamites (Judges i. 21), though the stronghold of Zion was in the
hands of the Jebusites (2 Sam. v. 7). We do not know why Jerusalem was
chosen for depositing this ghastly trophy. All that it is necessary to
say in relation to this is, that seeing it was only the stronghold of
Zion that is said to have been held by the Jebusites, there is no ground
for the objection which some critics have taken to the narrative that it
cannot be correct, since Jerusalem was not yet in the hands of the
Israelites.

It cannot be doubted that David continued to hold the same conviction as
before the battle, that it was not he that conquered, but God. We cannot
doubt that after the battle he showed the same meek and humble spirit as
before. Whatever surprise his victory might be to the tens of thousands
who witnessed it, it was no surprise to him. He knew beforehand that he
could trust God, and the result showed that he was right. But that very
spirit of implicit trust in God by which he was so thoroughly influenced
kept him from taking any of the glory to himself. God had chosen him to
be His instrument, but he had no credit from the victory for himself.
His feeling that day was the very same as his feeling at the close of
his military life, when the Lord had delivered him out of the hand of
all his enemies:--"The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer;
the God of my rock, in Him will I trust; He is my shield and the horn of
my salvation, my high tower and my refuge, my saviour; Thou savest me
from violence."

While David was preparing to fight with the Philistine, Saul asked Abner
whose son he was. Strange to say, neither Abner nor any one else could
tell. Nor could the question be answered till David came back from his
victory, and told the king that he was the son of Jesse the
Bethlehemite. We have already remarked that it was strange that Saul
should not have recognized him, inasmuch as he had formerly given
attendance on the king to drive away his evil spirit by means of his
harp. In explanation it has been urged by some that David's visit or
visits to Saul at that time may have been very brief, and as years may
have elapsed since his last visit, his appearance may have so changed as
to prevent recognition. On the part of others, another explanation has
been offered. Saul may have recognized David at first, but he did not
know his family. Now that there was a probability of his becoming the
king's son-in-law, it was natural that Saul should be anxious to know
his connections. The question put to Abner was, Whose son is this youth?
The commission given to him was to enquire "whose son the stripling is."
And the information given by David was, "I am the son of thy servant
Jesse the Bethlehemite." It may be added that there is some difficulty
about the text of this chapter. It seems as if somehow two independent
accounts of David had been mixed together. And in one important version
of the Septuagint several passages that occur in the received text are
omitted, certainly with the result of removing some difficulties as the
passage stands.

It is not possible to read this chapter without some thought of the
typical character of David, and indeed the typical aspect of the
conflict in which he was now engaged. We find an emblematic picture of
the conquest of Messiah and His Church. The self-confident boasting of
the giant, strong in the resources of carnal might, and incapable of
appreciating the unseen and invincible power of a righteous man in a
righteous cause, is precisely the spirit in which opposition to Christ
has been usually given, "Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away
their cords from us." The contempt shown for the lowly appearance of
David, the undisguised scorn at the notion that through such a stripling
any deliverance could come to his people, has its counterpart in the
feeling towards Christ and His Gospel to which the Apostle alludes: "We
preach Christ crucified, to the Jews a stumbling-block, and to the
Greeks foolishness." The calm self-possession of David, the choice of
simple but suitable means, and the thorough reliance on Jehovah which
enabled him to conquer, were all exemplified, in far higher measure, in
the moral victories of Jesus, and they are still the weapons which
enable His people to overcome. The sword of Goliath turned against
himself, the weapon by which he was to annihilate his foe, employed by
that very foe to sever his head from his body, was an emblem of Satan's
weapons turned by Christ against Satan, "through death he destroyed him
that had the power of death, and delivered them who all their lifetime
were subject to bondage." The representative character of David,
fighting, not for himself alone but the whole nation, was analogous to
the representative character of Christ. And the shout that burst from
the ranks of Israel and Judah when they saw the champion of the
Philistines fall, and the enemy betake themselves in consternation to
flight, foreshadowed the joy of redeemed men when the reality of
Christ's salvation flashes on their hearts, and they see the enemies
that have been harassing them repulsed and scattered--a joy to be
immeasurably magnified when all enemies are finally conquered, and the
loud voice is heard in heaven, "Now is come salvation, and strength, and
the kingdom of our God and the power of His Christ; for the accuser of
our brethren is cast down, that accused them before our God day and
night."

Lastly, while we are instructed by the study of this conflict, let us be
animated by it too. Let us learn never to quail at carnal might arrayed
against the cause of God. Let us never fear to attack SIN, however
apparently invincible it may be. Be it sin within or sin without, sin in
our hearts or sin in the world, let us go boldly at it, strong in the
might of God. That God who delivered David from the paw of the wild
beast, and from the power of the giant, will make us more than
conquerors--will enable us to spoil "principalities and powers and
triumph openly over them."



CHAPTER XXV.

_SAUL'S JEALOUSY--DAVID'S MARRIAGE._

1 SAMUEL xviii.


The conqueror of Goliath had been promised, as his reward, the eldest
daughter of the king in marriage. The fulfilment of that promise, if not
utterly neglected, was at least delayed; but if David lost the hand of
the king's daughter, he gained, what could not have been promised--the
heart of the king's son. It was little wonder that "the soul of Jonathan
was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own
soul." Besides all else about David that was attractive to Jonathan as
it was attractive to every one, there was that strongest of all bonds,
the bond of a common, all-prevailing faith, faith in the covenant God of
Israel, that had now shown itself in David in overwhelming strength, as
it had shown itself in Jonathan some time before at Michmash.

To Jonathan David must indeed have appeared a man after his own heart.
The childlike simplicity of the trust he had reposed in God showed what
a profound hold his faith had of him, how entirely it ruled his life.
What depths of congeniality the two young men must have discovered in
one another; in what wonderful agreement they must have found themselves
respecting the duty and destiny of the Hebrew people! That Jonathan
should have been so fascinated at that particular moment shows what a
pure heart he must have had. If we judge aright, David's faith had
surpassed Jonathan's; David had dared where Jonathan had shrunk; and
David's higher faith had obtained the distinction that might naturally
have been expected to fall to Jonathan. Yet no shadow of jealousy
darkens Jonathan's brow. Never were hands more cordially grasped; never
were congratulations more warmly uttered. Is there anything so beautiful
as a beautiful heart? After well-nigh three thousand years, we are still
thrilled by the noble character of Jonathan, and well were it for every
young man that he shared in some degree his high nobility. Self-seekers
and self-pleasers, look at him--and be ashamed.

The friendship between David and Jonathan will fall to be adverted to
afterwards; meanwhile we follow the course of events as they are
detailed in this chapter.

One thing that strikes us very forcibly in this part of David's history
is the rapidity with which pain and peril followed the splendid
achievement which had raised him so high. The malignant jealousy of Saul
towards him appears to have sprung up almost immediately after the
slaughter of Goliath. "When David was returned from the slaughter of the
Philistine, the women came out of all the cities of Israel, singing and
dancing, to meet King Saul, with tabrets, with joy, and with instruments
of music. And the women answered one another as they played, saying,
Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands. And Saul was
very wroth, and the saying displeased him; and he said, They have
ascribed to David ten thousands, and to me they have ascribed but
thousands; and what can he have more but the kingdom? And Saul eyed
David from that day and forward." This statement seems (like so many
other statements in Scripture narratives) to be a condensed one,
embracing things that happened at different times; it appears to denote
that as soon as David returned from killing Goliath his name began to be
introduced by the women into their songs; and when he returned from the
expeditions to which Saul appointed him when he set him over the men of
war, and in which he was wonderfully successful, then the women
introduced the comparison, which so irritated Saul, between Saul's
thousands and David's ten thousands. The truth is, that David's
experience, while Saul continued to be his persecutor, was a striking
commentary on the vanity of human life,--on the singularly tantalizing
way in which the most splendid prizes are often snatched from men's
hands as soon as they have secured them, and when they might reasonably
have expected to enjoy their fruits. The case of a conqueror killed in
the very moment of victory--of a Wolfe falling on the Plains of Quebec,
just as his victory made Britain mistress of Canada; of a Nelson
expiring on the deck of his ship, just as the enemy's fleet was
helplessly defeated,--these are touching enough instances of the
deceitfulness of fortune in the highest moments of expected enjoyment.
But there is something more touching still in the early history of
David. Raised to an eminence which he never courted or dreamt of, just
because he had such trust in God and such regard for his country;
manifesting in his new position all that modesty and all that
dutifulness which had marked him while his name was still unknown;
taking his life in his hand and plunging into toils and risks
innumerable just because he desired to be of service to Saul and his
country,--surely, if any man deserved a comfortable home and a tranquil
mind David was that man. That David should have become the worst treated
and most persecuted man of his day; that for years and years he should
have been maligned and hunted down, with but a step between him and
death; that the very services that ought to have brought him honour
should have plunged him into disgrace, and the noble qualities that
ought to have made him the king's most trusty counsellor should have
made him a fugitive and an outlaw from his presence,--all that is very
strange. It would have been a great trial to any man; it was a peculiar
trial to a Hebrew. For under the Hebrew economy the principle of
temporal rewards and punishments had a prominence beyond the common. Why
was this principle reversed in the case of David? Why was one who had
been so exemplary doomed to such humiliation and trial,--doomed to a
mode of life which seemed more suitable for a miscreant than for the man
after God's own heart?

The answer to this question cannot be mistaken now. But that answer was
not found so readily in David's time. David's early years bore a close
resemblance to that period of the career of Job when the hand of God was
heavy upon him, and thick darkness encompassed one on whose tabernacle
the candle of the Lord had previously shone very brightly. It pleased
God, in infinite love, to make David pass through a long period of hard
discipline and salutary training for the office to which he was to be
raised. The instances were innumerable in the East of young men of
promising character being ruined through sudden elevation to supreme
unchallenged power. The case of Saul himself was a sad instance of this
doleful effect. It pleased God to take steps to prevent it from
happening in the case of David. It is said that when Alcibiades, the
distinguished Athenian, was young, Socrates tried hard to withhold him
from public life, and to convince him that he needed a long course of
inward discipline before he could engage safely and usefully in the
conduct of public affairs. But Alcibiades had no patience for this; he
took his own way, became his own master, but with the result that he
lost at once true loftiness of aim and all the sincerity of an upright
soul. We do not need, however, to illustrate from mere human history the
benefits that arise from a man bearing the yoke in his youth. Even our
blessed Lord, David's antitype, "though He was a Son, yet learned He
obedience by the things which He suffered." And how often has the lesson
been repeated! What story is more constantly repeated than, on the one
hand, that of the young man succeeding to a fortune in early life,
learning every wretched habit of indolence and self-indulgence, becoming
the slave of his lusts, and after a miserable life sinking into a
dishonoured grave? And on the other, how often do we find, in the
biography of the men who have been an honour to their race, that their
early life was spent amid struggles and acts of self-denial that seem
hardly credible, but out of which came their resolute character and
grand conquering power? O adversity, thy features are hard, thy fingers
are of iron, thy look is stern and repulsive; but underneath thy hard
crust there lies a true heart, full of love and full of hope; if only we
had grace to believe this, in times when we are bound with affliction
and iron; if only we had faith to look forward a very little, when, like
the patriarch Job, we shall find that, after all, He who frames our lot
is "very pitiful and of tender mercy"!

In the case of David, God's purpose manifestly was to exercise and
strengthen such qualities as trust in God, prayerfulness, self-command,
serenity of temper, consideration for others, and the hope of a happy
issue out of all his troubles. His trials were indeed both numerous and
various. The cup of honour dashed from his lips when he had just begun
to taste it; promises the most solemn deliberately violated, and rewards
of perilous service coolly withheld from him; faithful services turned
into occasions of cruel persecution; enforced separation from beloved
friends; laceration of feelings from Saul's cruel and bloody treatment
of some who had befriended him; calumnious charges persisted in after
convincing and generous refutation; ungrateful treatment from those he
had benefited, like Nabal; treachery from those he had delivered, like
the men of Keilah; perfidy on the part of some he had trusted, like
Cush; assassination threatened by some of his own followers, as at
Ziklag,--these and many other trials were the hard and bitter discipline
which David had to undergo in the wilderness.

And not only was David thus prepared for the great work of his future
life, but as a type of the Messiah he foreshadowed the deep humiliation
through which He was to pass on His way to His throne. He gave the Old
Testament Church a glimpse of the manner in which "it became Him, by
whom are all things and for whom are all things, in bringing many sons
unto glory, to make the Captain of their salvation perfect through
suffering."

The growth of the malignant passion of jealousy in Saul is portrayed in
the history in a way painfully graphic. First, it is simply a feeling
that steals occasionally into his bosom. It needs some outward occasion
to excite it. Its first great effort to establish itself was when Saul
heard the Hebrew women ascribing to David ten times as great a slaughter
as they ascribed to Saul. We cannot but be struck with the ruggedness of
the women's compliment. To honour David as more ready to incur risk and
sacrifice for his country, even in encounters involving terrible
bloodshed, would have been worthy of women, and worthy of good women;
but to make the standard of compliment the number of lives destroyed,
the amount of blood shed, indicated surely a coarseness of feeling,
characteristic of a somewhat barbarous age. But the compliment was quite
significant to Saul, who saw in it a proof of the preference entertained
for David, and began to look on him as his rival in the kingdom. The
next step in the history of Saul's jealousy is its forming itself into
an evil habit, that needed no outward occasion to excite it, but kept
itself alive and active by the vitality it had acquired. "And Saul eyed
David from that day and forward" (ver. 9). If Saul had been a good man,
he would have been horrified at the appearance of this evil passion in
his heart; he would have said, "Get thee behind me, Satan;" he would
have striven to the utmost to strangle it in the womb. Oh! what untold
mountains of guilt would this not have saved him in after life! And what
mountains of guilt, darkening their whole life, would the policy of
resistance and stamping out, when an evil lust or passion betrays its
presence in their heart, save to every young man and young woman who
find for the first time evidence of its vitality! But instead of
stamping it out, Saul nourished it; instead of extinguishing the spark,
he heaped fuel on the flame. And his lust, having been allowed to
conceive, was not long of bringing forth. Under a fit of his malady,
even as David was playing to him with his harp, he launched a javelin
at him, no doubt in some degree an act of insanity, but yet betraying a
very horrible spirit. Then, perhaps afraid of himself, he removes David
from his presence, and sends him out to battle as a captain of a
thousand. But David only gives fresh proofs of his wisdom and his
trustworthiness, and establishes his hold more and more on the
affections of the people. The very fact of his wisdom, the evidence
which his steady, wise, and faithful conduct affords of God's presence
with him, creates a new restlessness in Saul, who, with a kind of
devilish feeling, hates him the more because "the Lord is with him, and
is departed from Saul."

The next stage in the career of jealousy is to ally itself with cunning,
under the pretence of great generosity. "Saul said to David, Behold my
elder daughter Merab, her will I give thee to wife; only be thou valiant
for me, and fight the Lord's battles. For Saul said, Let not mine hand
be upon him, but let the hand of the Philistines be upon him." But
cunning and treachery are close connections, and when this promise ought
to have been fulfilled, Merab was given to Adriel the Meholathite to
wife. There remained his younger daughter Michal, who was personally
attached to David. "And Saul said, I will give him her, that she may be
a snare to him, and that the hand of the Philistines may be against
him." The question of dowry was a difficult one to David; but on that
point the king bade his servants set his mind at rest. "The king
desireth not any dowry, but an hundred foreskins of the Philistines, to
be avenged of the king's enemies. And Saul thought to make David fall by
the hand of the Philistines."

Alas! the history of Saul's malignant passion is by no means exhausted
even by these sad illustrations of its rise and progress. It swells and
grows, like a horrid tumour, becoming uglier and uglier continually. And
the notices are very significant and instructive which we find as to the
spiritual condition of Saul, in connection with the development of his
passion. We are told that the Lord was departed from him. When Saul was
reproved by Samuel for his transgression, he showed no signs of real
repentance, he continued consciously in a state of enmity with God, and
took no steps to get the quarrel healed. He preferred the kind of life
in which he might please himself, though he offended God, to the kind of
life in which he would have pleased God, while he denied himself. And
Saul had to bear the awful penalty of his choice. Living apart from God,
all the evil that was in his nature came boldly out, asserting itself
without let or hindrance, and going to the terrible length of the most
murderous and at the same time the meanest projects. Don't let any one
imagine that religion has no connection with morality! Sham religion, as
we have already seen, may exist side by side with the greatest
wickedness; but that religion, the beginning of which is the true fear
of God, a genuine reverential regard for God, a true sense of His claims
on us, alike as our Creator and our Redeemer,--_that_ religion lays its
hand firmly on our moral nature, and scares and scatters the devices of
the evil that still remains in the heart. Let us take warning at the
picture presented to us in this chapter of the terrible results, even in
the ordinary affairs of life, of the evil heart of unbelief that departs
from the living God. The other side of the case, the effect of a true
relation to God in purifying and guiding the life, is seen in the case
of David. God being with him in all that he does, he is not only kept
from retaliating on Saul, not only kept from all devices for getting rid
of one who was so unjust and unkind to himself, but he is remarkably
obedient, remarkably faithful, and by God's grace remarkably successful
in the work given him to do. It is indeed a beautiful period of David's
life--the most blameless and beautiful of any. The object of unmerited
hatred, the victim of atrocious plots, the helpless object of a despot's
mad and ungoverned fury, yet cherishing no trace of bitter feeling,
dreaming of no violent project of relief, but going out and in with
perfect loyalty, and straining every nerve to prove himself a laborious,
faithful, and useful servant of the master who loathed him.

The question of David's marriage is a somewhat difficult one, appearing
to involve some contradictions. First of all we read that a daughter of
Saul, along with great riches, had been promised to the man who should
kill Goliath. But after David kills him, there is no word of this
promise being fulfilled, and even afterwards, when the idea of his being
the king's son-in-law is brought forward, there is no hint that he ought
to have been so before. Are we to understand that it was an unauthorized
rumour that was told to David (ch. xvii. 25-27) when it was said that
the victor was to get these rewards? Was it that the people recalled
what had been said by Caleb about Kirjath-sepher, a town in that very
neighbourhood, and inferred that surely Saul would give his daughter to
the conqueror, as Caleb had given his? This is perhaps the most
reasonable explanation, because when David came into Saul's presence
nothing of the kind was said to him by the king; and also because, if
Saul had really promised it, there was no reason at the time why he
should not have kept his promise; nay, the impulsive nature of the
king, and the great love of Jonathan toward David, and the love with
which David inspired women, would rather have led Saul to be forward in
fulfilling it, and in constituting a connection which would then have
been pleasant to all. If it be said that this would have been a natural
thing for Saul to do, even had there been no promise, the answer is that
David was such a stripling, and even in his father's household occupied
so humble a place, as to make it reasonable that he should wait, and
gain a higher position, before any such thing should be thought of.
Accordingly, when David became older, and acquired distinction as a
warrior, his being the king's son-in-law had become quite feasible.
First, Saul proposes to give him his elder daughter Merab. The murderous
desire dictates the proposal, for Saul already desires David's death,
though he has not courage himself to strike the blow. But when the time
came, for some reason that we do not know of Merab was given to Adriel
the Meholathite. David's action at an after period showed that he
regarded this as a cruel wrong (2 Sam. iii. 13). Saul, however, still
desired to have that hold on David which his being his son-in-law would
have involved, and now proposed that Michal his younger daughter should
be his wife. The proposal was accepted, but David could bring no dowry
for his wife. The only dowry the king sought was a hundred foreskins of
the Philistines. And the hundred foreskins David paid down in full tale.

What a distressing view these transactions give us of the malignity of
Saul's heart! When parents have sacrificed the true happiness of their
daughters by pressing on them a marriage of splendid misery, the motive,
however selfish and heartless, has not usually been malignant. The
marriage which Saul urged between David and Michal was indeed a marriage
of affection, but as far as he was concerned his sin in desiring it, as
affording facilities for getting rid of him, was on that account all the
greater. For nothing shows a wickeder heart than being willing to
involve another, and especially one's own child, in a lifelong sorrow in
order to gratify some feeling of one's own. Saul was not merely trifling
with the heart and happiness of his child, but he was deliberately
sacrificing both to his vile passion. The longer he lives, Saul becomes
blacker and blacker. For such are they from whom the Spirit of the Lord
has departed.

We may well contrast David and Saul at this period of their lives; but
what a strange thing it is that further on in life David should have
taken this leaf from Saul's book, and acted in this very spirit towards
Uriah the Hittite? Not that Uriah was, or was to be, son-in-law to the
king; alas! there was an element of blackness in the case of David which
did not exist in that of Saul; but it was in the very spirit now
manifested by Saul towards himself that David availed himself of Uriah's
bravery, of Uriah's faithfulness, of Uriah's chivalrous readiness to
undertake the most perilous expeditions--availed himself of these to
compass his death. What do we learn from this? The same seeds of evil
were in David's heart as in Saul's. But at the earlier period of David's
life he walked humbly with God, and God's Spirit poured out on him not
only restrained the evil seed, but created a pure, holy, devoted life,
as if there were nothing in David but good. Afterwards, grieving the
Holy Spirit, David was left for a time to himself, and then the very
evil that had been so offensive in Saul came creeping forth drew itself
up and claimed that it should prevail. It was a blessed thing for David
that he was not beyond being arrested by God's voice, and humbled by His
reproof. He saw whither he had been going; he saw the emptiness and
wickedness of his heart; he saw that his salvation depended on God in
infinite mercy forgiving his sin and restoring His Spirit, and for these
blessings he pled and wrestled as Jacob had wrestled with the angel at
Peniel. So we may well see that for any one to trust in his heart is to
play the fool; our only trust must be in Him who is able to keep us from
falling, and to present us faultless before the presence of His glory
with exceeding joy. "_He that abideth in Me, and I in him, the same
bringeth forth much fruit, for without Me ye can do nothing. If a man
abide not in Me, he is cast forth as a root and withered, and men take
them and cast them into the fire and they are burned._"



CHAPTER XXVI.

_SAUL'S FURTHER EFFORTS AGAINST DAVID._

1 SAMUEL xix.


A new stage of his wicked passion is now reached by Saul; he communes
with his servants, and even with his son, with a view to their killing
David. Ordinary conspirators are prone to confine their evil designs to
their own breasts; or if they do have confidants, to choose for that
purpose persons as vile as themselves, whom they bind to secrecy and
silence. Saul must have been sadly overpowered by his passion when he
urged his very son to become a murderer, to become the assassin of his
friend, of the man with whom God manifestly dwelt, and whom God
delighted to honour. It is easy to understand what line Saul would take
with Jonathan. Heir to the throne, he was specially affected by the
popularity of David; if David were disposed of, his seat would be in no
danger. The generous prince did his utmost to turn his father from the
horrid project: "He spake good of David unto Saul, and said unto him,
Let not the king sin against his servant, against David; because he hath
not sinned against thee, and because his works have been to thee-ward
very good. For he did put his life in his hand, and slew the Philistine,
and the Lord wrought a great salvation for all Israel: thou sawest it
and didst rejoice: wherefore then wilt thou sin against innocent blood,
to slay David without a cause?" For the moment the king was touched by
the intercession of Jonathan. Possibly he was rebuked by the burst of
generosity and affection,--a spirit so opposite to his own; possibly he
was impressed by Jonathan's argument, and made to feel that David was
entitled to very different treatment. For the time, the purpose of Saul
was arrested, and "David was in his presence as in times past."
"Ofttimes," says Bishop Hall, "wicked men's judgments are forced to
yield unto that truth against which their affections maintain a
rebellion. Even the foulest hearts do sometimes retain good notions;
like as, on the contrary, the holiest souls give way sometimes to the
suggestions of evil. The flashes of lightning may be discerned in the
darkest prison. But if good thoughts look into a wicked heart, they stay
not there; as those that like not their lodging, they are soon gone;
hardly anything distinguishes between good and evil but continuance. The
light that shines into a holy heart is constant, like that of the sun,
which keeps due times, and varies not his course for any of these
sublunary occasions."

But, as the heathen poet said, "You may expel nature with a thunderbolt,
but it always returns." The evil spirit, the demon of jealousy, returned
to Saul. And strange to say, his jealousy was such that nothing was more
fitted to excite it than eminent service to his country on the part of
David. A new campaign had opened against the Philistines. David had had
a splendid victory. He slew them with a great slaughter, so that they
fled before him. We may be sure that in these circumstances the songs of
the women would swell out in heartier chorus than ever. And in Saul's
breast the old jealousy burst out again, and sprang to power. A fit of
his evil spirit was on him, and David was playing on his harp in order
to beguile it away. He sees Saul seize a javelin, he instinctively knows
the purpose, and springs aside just as the javelin flies past and lodges
in the wall. The danger is too serious to be encountered any longer.
David escapes to his house, but hardly before messengers from Saul have
arrived to watch the door, and slay him in the morning. Knowing her
father's plot, Michal warns David that if he does not make his escape
that night his life is sure to go.

Michal lets him down through a window, and David makes his escape. Then,
to give him a sufficient start, and prolong the time a little, she has
recourse to one of those stratagems of which Rebecca, and Rahab, and
Jeroboam's wife, and many another woman have shown themselves
mistresses--she gets up a tale, and pretends to the messengers that
David is sick. The men carry back the message to their master. There is
a peculiar ferocity, an absolute brutality, in the king's next order,
"Bring him up to me in the bed that I may slay him." Evidently he was
enraged, and he either felt that it would be a satisfaction to murder
David with his own hand when unable to defend himself, or he saw that
his servants could not be trusted with the dastardly business. The
messengers enter the house, and instead of David they find an image in
the bed, with a pillow of goat's hair for his bolster. When Michal is
angrily reproached by her father for letting him escape, she parries the
blow by a falsehood--"He said unto me, Let me go; why should I kill
thee?"

On this somewhat mean conduct of hers a light is incidentally shed by
the mention of the image which she placed in the bed in order to
personate David. What sort of image was it? The original shows that it
was one of the class called "teraphim"--images which were kept and used
by persons who in the main worshipped the one true God. They were not
such idols as represented Baal or Ashtoreth or Moloch, but images
designed to aid in the worship of the God of Israel. The use of them was
not a breach of the first commandment, but it was a breach of the
second. We see plainly that David and his wife were not one in religion;
there was discord there. The use of the images implied an unspiritual or
superstitious state of mind; or at least a mind more disposed to follow
its own fancies as to the way of worshipping God than to have a severe
and strict regard to the rule of God. It is impossible to suppose that
David could have either used, or countenanced the use of these images.
God was too much a spiritual reality to him to allow such material media
of worship to be even thought of. He knew too much of worship inspired
by the Spirit to dream of worship inspired by shapes of wood or stone.
When we read of these images we are not surprised at the defects of
character which we see in Michal. That she loved David and had pleasure
in his company there is no room to doubt. But their union was not the
union of hearts that were one in their deepest feelings. The sublimest
exercises of David's soul Michal could have no sympathy with.
Afterwards, when David brought the ark from Kirjath-jearim to Mount
Zion, she mocked his enthusiasm. How sad when hearts, otherwise
congenial and loving, are severed on the one point on which congeniality
is of deepest moment! Agreement in earthly tastes and arrangements, but
disagreement in the one thing needful--alas, how fatal is the drawback!
Little blessing can they expect who disregard this point of difference
when they agree to marry. If the one that is earnest does so in the
expectation of doing good to the other, that good is far more likely to
be done by a firm stand at the beginning than by a course which may be
construed to mean that after all the difference is of no great moment.

If the title of the fifty-ninth Psalm can be accepted as authentic, it
indicates the working of David's mind at this period of his history. It
is called "Michtam of David, when Saul sent, and they watched the house
to kill him." It is not to be imagined that it was composed in the
hurried interval between David reaching his house and Michal sending him
away. That David had a short time of devotion then we may readily
believe, and that the exercises of his heart corresponded generally to
the words of the psalm, which might be committed afterwards to writing
as a memorial of the occasion. From the words of the psalm it would
appear that the messengers sent by Saul to apprehend him were men of
base and cowardly spirit, and that they were actuated by the same
personal hatred to him that marked Saul himself. No doubt the piety of
David brought to him the enmity, and the success of David the rivalry,
of many who would be emboldened by the king's avowed intention, to pour
out their insults and calumnies against him in the most indecent
fashion. Perhaps it is to show the estimate he formed of their spirit,
rather than to denote literally their nationality, that the Psalmist
calls on God to "awake to visit all _the heathen_." Prowling about the
city under cloud of darkness, coming and going and coming again to his
house, "they return at evening; they make a noise like a dog, and go
about the city. Behold, they belch out with their mouth; swords are in
their lips; for who, say they, doth hear?" Thus showing his estimate of
his enemies, the Psalmist manifests the most absolute reliance on the
protection and grace of God. "But Thou, O Lord, shalt laugh at them;
Thou shalt have all the heathen in derision. Because of his strength
will I wait upon Thee; for God is my defence. The God of my mercy shall
prevent me; God shall let me see my desire upon mine enemies." He does
not ask that they may be slain, but he asks that they may be
conspicuously dishonoured and humbled, and made to go about the city
like dogs, in another sense--not like dogs seeking to tear upright men
in pieces, but like those starved, repulsive, cowardly brutes, familiar
in Eastern cities, that would do anything for a morsel of food. His own
spirit is serene and confident--"Unto Thee, O my strength, will I sing;
for God is my defence, and the God of my mercy."

It may be that the superscription of this psalm is not authentic, and
that the reference is either to some other passage in David's life, or
in the life of some other psalmist, when he was especially exposed to
the ravings of a murderous and calumnious spirit, and in the midst of
unscrupulous enemies thirsting for his life. The psalm is eminently
fitted to express the feelings and experiences of the Church of Christ
in times of bitter persecution. For calumny has usually been the
right-hand instrument of the persecutor. To justify himself, he has
found it necessary to denounce his victim. Erroneous opinions, it is
instinctively felt, are no such offence as to warrant the wholesale
spoliation and murder which vehement persecution calls for. Crimes of a
horrible description are laid to the charge of the persecuted. And even
where the sword of persecution in its naked form is not employed, but
opposition and hatred vent themselves on the more active servants of God
in venomous attacks and offensive letters, it is not counted enough to
denounce their opinions. They must be charged with meanness, and double
dealing, and vile plots and schemes to compass their ends. They are
spoken of (as St. Paul and his companions were) as the offscourings of
the earth, creatures only to be hunted out of sight and spoiled of all
influence. Happy they who can bear all in the Psalmist's tranquil and
truthful spirit; and can sum up their feelings like him--"I will sing of
Thy power; yea, I will sing aloud of Thy mercy in the morning; for Thou
hast been my defence and refuge in the day of my trouble."

But let us return to David. Can we think of a more desolate condition
than that in which he found himself after his wife let him down through
a window? It is night, and he is alone. Who could be unmoved when place
in such a position? Forced to fly from his home and his young wife, just
after he had begun to know their sweets, and no prospect of a happy
return! Driven forth by the murderous fury of the king whom he had
served with a loyalty and a devotion that could not have been surpassed!
His home desolated and his life threatened by the father of his wife,
the man whom even nature should have inspired with a kindly interest in
his welfare! What good had it done him that he had slain that giant?
What return had he got for his service in ever so often soothing the
nerves of the irritable monarch with the gentle warblings of his harp?
What good had come of all his perilous exploits against the Philistines,
of the hundred foreskins of the king's enemies, of the last great
victory which had brought so unprecedented advantage to Israel? Would it
not have been better for him never to have touched a weapon, never to
have encountered a foe, but kept feeding that flock of his father's, and
caring for those irrational creatures, who had always returned his
kindness with gratitude, and been far more like friends and companions
than that terrible Saul? Such thoughts might perhaps hover about his
bosom, but certainly they would receive no entertainment from him. They
might knock at his door, but they would not be admitted. A man like
David could never seriously regret that he had done his duty. He could
never seriously wish that he had never responded to the call of God and
of his country. But he might well feel how empty and unprofitable even
the most successful worldly career may become, how maddening the changes
of fortune, how intolerable the unjust retributions of men in power. His
ill-treatment was so atrocious that, had he not had a refuge in God, it
might have driven him to madness or to suicide. It drove him to the
throne of grace, where he found grace to help him in his time of need.

It was no wonder that the fugitive thought of Samuel. If he could get
shelter with him Saul would surely let him alone, for Saul could have no
mind to meddle with Samuel again. But more than that; in Samuel's
company he would find congenial fellowship, and from Samuel's mature
wisdom and devotion to God's law learn much that would be useful in
after life. We can easily fancy what a cordial welcome the old prophet
would give the youthful fugitive. Was not David in a sense his son,
seeing that he had chosen him from among all the sons of Jesse, and
poured on him the holy oil? If an old minister has a special interest
in one whom he has baptized, how much more Samuel in one whom he had
anointed! And there was another consideration that would have great
effect with Samuel. Old Christians feel very tenderly for young
believers who have had hard lines in serving God. It moves them much
when those on whom they have very earnestly pressed God's ways have
encountered great trials in following them. Gladly would they do
anything in their power to soothe and encourage them. Samuel's words to
David would certainly be words of exceeding tenderness. They must have
fallen like the dew of Hermon on his fevered spirit. Doubtless they
would tend to revive and strengthen his faith, and assure him that God
would keep him amid all his trials, and at last set him on high, because
he had known his name.

From Ramah, his ordinary dwelling-place, Samuel had gone with David to
Naioth, perhaps under the idea that they would elude the eye of Saul.
Not so, however. Word of David's place of abode was carried to the king.
Saul was deeply in earnest in his effort to get rid of David,--surely a
very daring thing when he must have known God's purpose regarding him.
Messengers were accordingly sent to Naioth. It was the seat of one of
the schools of the prophets, and David could not but be deeply
interested in the work of the place, and charmed with its spirit. Here,
under the wing of Samuel, he did dwell in safety; but his safety did not
come in the way in which perhaps he expected. Saul's purpose was too
deeply seated to be affected by the presence of Samuel. Nay, though
Samuel in all likelihood had told him how God had caused him to anoint
David as his successor, Saul determined to drag him even from the hands
of Samuel. But Saul never counted on the form of opposition he was to
encounter. The messengers went to Naioth, but their hearts were taken
hold of by the Spirit who was then working in such power in the place,
and from soldiers they were turned into prophets. A second batch of
messengers was sent, and with the same result. A third batch followed,
and still the same miraculous transformation. Determined not to be
baffled, and having probably exhausted the servants whom he could trust,
Saul went himself to Ramah. But Saul was proof no more than his servants
against the marvellous spiritual force that swept all before it. When he
came to Ramah, the Spirit of the Lord was upon him, and he went on and
prophesied all the way from Ramah to Naioth. And there, stripping
himself of his royal robes and accoutrements, he prophesied before
Samuel in like manner, and lay down, just as one of the prophets, and
continued so a whole day and night. It was a repetition of what had
taken place at "the hill of God" when Saul returned from his search
after the asses (1 Sam. x. 10, 11), and it resuscitated the proverb that
had been first used on that occasion, is Saul also among the prophets?
Transformed and occupied as Saul was now, he was in no mood to carry out
his murderous project against David, who in the view of this most
unexpected form of deliverance might well sing, "My safety cometh from
the Lord, who made heaven and earth."

The question cannot but press itself on us, What was the character of
the influence under which Saul was brought on this remarkable occasion?
Observe the phenomena so far as they are recorded. In the first place,
nothing is said of any appeal to Saul's reason and conscience. In the
second place, no such conduct followed this experience as would have
followed it, had his reason and conscience been impressed. He was
precisely the same wicked man as before. In the third place, there is no
evidence of anything else having taken place than a sort of contagious
impression being produced on his physical nature, something
corresponding to the effect of mesmerism or animal magnetism. In earnest
religious movements of a very solid character, it has been often
remarked that another unusual experience runs alongside of them; in some
persons in contact with them a nervous susceptibility is developed,
which sometimes causes prostration, and sometimes a state of trance; and
it has been found that many persons are liable to the state of trance
whose hearts and lives are in no way transformed by the religious
impression. It seems to have been some such experience that befell Saul.
He was entranced, but he was not changed. He was for the time another
man, but there was no permanent change; after a time, his old spirit
returned. Evidently he was a man of great nervous susceptibility, and it
is plain from many things that his nerves had become weakened. He fell
for the time under the strong influence of the prophetic company; but
David did not trust him, for he fled from Naioth.

And yet, even if this was all that happened to Saul, there was something
providential and merciful in it that might have led on to better
results. Was it not in some sense a dealing of God with Saul? Was it not
a reminder of that better way which Saul had forsaken, and in forsaking
which he had come to so much guilt and trouble? Was it not a gracious
indication that even yet, if he would return to God, though he could not
get back the kingdom he might personally be blessed? Whatever of this
kind there might be in it, it was trampled by Saul under foot. He had
made his bed, and, thorny though it was, he was determined to lie on it.
He would not change his life; he would not return to God.

Does not God, in His merciful providence, often deal with transgressors
as he dealt with Saul, placing them in circumstances that make it
comparatively easy for them to turn from their sins and change their
life? Your marriage, a death in your circle, a change of residence, a
change of fortune, forming a new acquaintance, coming under a new
ministry,--oh! friends, if there be in you the faintest dissatisfaction
with your past life, the faintest desire for a better, take advantage of
the opportunity, and turn to God. Summon courage, break with your
associates in sin (the loss will be marvellously small), give up your
dissipated pleasures, betake yourselves to the great matters that
concern your welfare evermore. Mark in the providence that gave you the
opportunity, the kind hand of a gracious Father, sadly grieving over
your erring life, and longing for your return. Harden not your heart as
in the provocation in the day of temptation in the wilderness. Don't
drive the angel out of your way, who stands in your path, as he stood in
Balaam's, to stop your progress in the ways of sin. Who knows whether
ever again you shall have the same opportunity? And even if you have, is
it not certain that the disinclination you feel now will be stiffer and
stronger then? Be a man, and face the irksome. Whatever you do,
determine to do right. It is childish to stand shivering over a duty
which you know ought to be done. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do
it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor
wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest."



CHAPTER XXVII.

_DAVID AND JONATHAN._

1 SAMUEL xx.


We have no means of determining how long time elapsed between the events
recorded in the preceding chapter and those recorded in this. It is not
unlikely that Saul's experience at Naioth led to a temporary improvement
in his relations to David. The tone of this chapter leads us to believe
that at the time when it opens there was some room for doubt whether or
not Saul continued to cherish any deliberate ill-feeling to his
son-in-law. David's own suspicions were strong that he did; but Jonathan
appears to have thought otherwise. Hence the earnest conversation which
the two friends had on the subject; and hence the curious but crooked
stratagem by which they tried to find out the truth.

But before we go on to this, it will be suitable for us at this place to
dwell for a little on the remarkable friendship between David and
Jonathan--a beautiful oasis in this wilderness history,--one of the
brightest gems in this book of Samuel.

It was a striking proof of the ever mindful and considerate grace of
God, that at the very opening of the dark valley of trial through which
David had to pass in consequence of Saul's jealousy, he was brought
into contact with Jonathan, and in his disinterested and sanctified
friendship, furnished with one of the sweetest earthly solaces for the
burden of care and sorrow. The tempest suddenly let loose on him must
have proved too vehement, if he had been left in Saul's dark palace
without one kind hand to lead him on, or the sympathy of one warm heart
to encourage him; the spirit of faith might have declined more seriously
than it did, had it not been strengthened by the bright faith of
Jonathan. It was plain that Michal, though she had a kind of attachment
to David, was far from having a thoroughly congenial heart; she loved
him, and helped to save him, but at the same time bore false witness
against him (chap. xix. 17). In his deepest sorrows, David could have
derived little comfort from her. Whatever gleams of joy and hope,
therefore, were now shed by human companionship across his dark
firmament, were due to Jonathan. In merciful adaptation to the
infirmities of his human spirit, God opened to him this stream in the
desert, and allowed him to refresh himself with its pleasant waters; but
to show him, at the same time, that such supplies could not be
permanently relied on, and that his great dependence must be placed, not
on the fellowship of mortal man, but on the ever-living and ever-loving
God, Jonathan and he were doomed, after the briefest period of
companionship, to a lifelong separation, and the friendship which had
seemed to promise a perpetual solace of his trials, only aggravated
their severity, when its joys were violently reft away.

In another view, David's intercourse with Jonathan served an important
purpose in his training. The very sight he constantly had of Saul's
outrageous wickedness might have nursed a self-righteous
feeling,--might have encouraged the thought, so agreeable to human
nature, that as Saul was rejected by God for his wickedness, so David
was chosen for his goodness. The remembrance of Jonathan's singular
virtues and graces was fitted to rebuke this thought; for if regard to
human goodness had decided God's course in the matter, why should not
Jonathan have been appointed to succeed his father? From the
self-righteous ground on which he might have been thus tempted to stand,
David would be thrown back on the adorable sovereignty of God; and in
deepest humiliation constrained to own that it was God's grace only that
made him to differ from others.

Ardent friendships among young men were by no means uncommon in ancient
times; many striking instances occurred among the Greeks, which have
sometimes been accounted for by the comparatively low estimation in
which female society was then held. "The heroic companions celebrated by
Homer and others," it has been remarked, "seem to have but one heart and
soul, with scarcely a wish or object apart, and only to live, as they
are always ready to die, for one another.... The idea of a Greek hero
seems not to have been thought complete without such a brother in arms
by his side."[3]

But there was one feature of the friendship of Jonathan and David that
had no parallel in classic times,--it was friendship between two men, of
whom the younger was a most formidable rival to the older. It is
Jonathan that shines most in this friendship, for he was the one who had
least to gain and most to lose from the other. He knew that David was
ordained by God to succeed to his father's throne, yet he loved him; he
knew that to befriend David was to offend his father, yet he warmly
befriended him; he knew that he must decrease and David increase, yet no
atom of jealousy disturbed his noble spirit. What but divine grace could
have enabled Jonathan to maintain this blessed temper? What other
foundation could it have rested on but the conviction that what God
ordained must be the very best, infinitely wise and good for him and for
all? Or what could have filled the heart thus bereaved of so fair an
earthly prospect, but the sense of God's love, and the assurance that He
would compensate to him all that He took from him? How beautiful was
this fruit of the Spirit of God! How blessed it would be if such
clusters hung on every branch of the vine!

Besides being disinterested, Jonathan's friendship for David was of an
eminently holy character. Evidently Jonathan was a man that habitually
honoured God, if not in much open profession, yet in the way of deep
reverence and submission. And thus, besides being able to surrender his
own prospects without a murmur, and feel real happiness in the thought
that David would be king, he could strengthen the faith of his friend,
as we read afterwards (chap. xxiii. 16): "Jonathan, Saul's son, arose
and went to David into the wood, and strengthened his hand in God." At
the time when they come together in the chapter before us, Jonathan's
faith was stronger than David's. David's faltering heart was saying,
"There is but a step between me and death" (ver. 3), while Jonathan in
implicit confidence in God's purpose concerning David was thus looking
forward to the future,--"Thou shalt not only while yet I live show me
the kindness of the Lord that I die not; but also thou shalt not cut
off thy kindness from my house for ever; no, not when the Lord hath cut
off the enemies of David every one from the face of the earth." There
has seldom, if ever, been exhibited a finer instance of triumphant
faith, than when the prince, with all the resources of the kingdom at
his beck, made this request of the helpless outlaw. What a priceless
blessing is the friendship of those who support and comfort us in great
spiritual conflicts, and help us to stand erect in some great crisis of
our lives! How different from the friendship that merely supplies the
merriment of an idle hour, at the expense, perhaps, of a good
conscience, and to the lasting injury of the soul!

But let me now briefly note the events recorded in this chapter. It is a
long chapter, one of those long chapters in which incidents are recorded
with such fulness of detail, as not only to make a very graphic
narrative, but to supply an incidental proof of its authenticity.

First of all, we have the preliminary conversation between David and
Jonathan, as to the real feeling of Saul toward David. Incidentally, we
learn how much Saul leant on Jonathan: "My father will do nothing,
either great or small, but he will show it me,"--a proof that Jonathan
was, like Joseph before him, and like Daniel after him, eminently
trustworthy, and as sound in judgment as he was noble in character.
Guileless himself, he suspected no guile in his father. But David was
not able to take so favourable a view of Saul. So profound was his
conviction to the contrary, that in giving his reason for believing that
Saul had concealed from his son his real feeling in the matter, and the
danger in which he was, he used the solemn language of adjuration: "As
the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is but a step between me
and death." Viewed from the human point, this was true; viewed from
under the Divine purpose and promise, it could not be true. Yet we
cannot blame David, knowing as he did what Saul really felt, for
expressing his human fears, and the distress of mind to which the
situation gave birth.

Next, we find a device agreed on between David and Jonathan, to
ascertain the real sentiments of Saul. It was one of those deceitful
ways to which, very probably, David had become accustomed in his
military experiences, in his forays against the Philistines, where
stratagems may have been, as they often were, a common device. It was
probable that David would be missed from Saul's table next day, as it
was the new moon and a feast; if Saul inquired after him, Jonathan was
to pretend that he had asked leave to go to a yearly family sacrifice at
Bethlehem; and the way in which Saul should take this explanation would
show his real feeling and purpose about David. In the event of Saul
being enraged, and commanding Jonathan to bring David to him, David
implored Jonathan not to comply; rather kill him with his own hand than
that; for there was nothing that David dreaded so much as falling into
the hands of Saul. Jonathan surely did not deserve that it should be
thought possible for him to surrender David to his father, or to conceal
anything from him that had any bearing on his welfare. But inasmuch as
David had put the matter in the form he did, it seemed right to Jonathan
that a very solemn transaction should take place at this time, to make
their relation as clear as day, and to determine the action of the
stronger of them to the other, in time to come.

This is the third thing in the chapter. Jonathan, takes David into the
field, that is, into some sequestered Wady, at some distance from the
town, where they would be sure to enjoy complete solitude; and there
they enter into a solemn covenant. Jonathan takes the lead. He begins
with a solemn appeal to God, calling on Him not as a matter of mere form
or propriety, but of real and profound significance. First, he binds
himself to communicate faithfully to David the real state of things on
the part of his father, whether it should be for good or for evil. And
then he binds David, whom by faith he sees in possession of the kingly
power, in spite of all that Saul may do against him, first to be kind to
himself while he lived, and not cut him off, as new kings so often
massacred all the relations of the old; and also after his death to show
kindness to his family, and never cease to remember them, not even when
raised to such a pitch of prosperity that all his enemies were cut off
from the earth. One knows not whether most to wonder at the faith of
Jonathan, or the sweetness of his nature. It is David, the poor outlaw,
with hardly a man to stand by him, that appears to Jonathan the man of
power, the man who can dispose of all lives and sway all destinies;
while Jonathan, the king's son and confidential adviser, is somehow
reduced to helplessness, and unable even to save himself. But was there
ever such a transaction entered into with such sweetness of temper? The
calmness of Jonathan in contemplating the strange reverse of fortune
both to himself and to David, is exquisitely beautiful; nor is there in
it a trace of that servility with which mean natures worship the rising
sun; it is manly and generous while it is meek and humble; such a
combination of the noble and the submissive as was shown afterwards, in
highest form, in the one perfect example of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Next comes a statement of the way in which Jonathan was to announce to
David the result. It might not be safe for him to see David personally,
but in that case he would let him know what had transpired about him
through a preconcerted signal, in reference to the place where he would
direct an attendant to go for some arrows. As it happened, a personal
interview was obtained with David; but before that, the telegraphing
with the arrows was carried out as arranged.

On the first day of the feast, David's absence passed unnoticed, Saul
being under the impression that he had acquired ceremonial uncleanness.
But as that excuse could only avail for one day, Saul finding him absent
the second day, asked Jonathan what had become of him. The excuse agreed
on was given. It excited the deepest rage of Saul. But his rage was not
against David so much as against Jonathan for taking his part. Saul did
not believe in the excuse, otherwise he would not have ordered Jonathan
to send and fetch David. If David was at Bethlehem, Saul could have sent
for him himself; if he lay concealed in the neighbourhood, Jonathan
alone would know his hiding-place, therefore Jonathan must get hold of
him. If this be the true view, the stratagem of Jonathan had availed
nothing; the plain truth would have served the purpose no worse. As it
was, Jonathan's own life was in the most imminent danger. Remonstrating
with his father for seeking to destroy David, he narrowly escaped his
father's javelin, even though, a moment before, in his jealousy of
David, Saul had professed to be concerned for the interests of Jonathan.
"Thou son of the perverse rebellious woman, do not I know that thou hast
chosen the son of Jesse to thine own confusion, and to the confusion of
thy mother's nakedness?" What strange and unworthy methods will not
angry men and women resort to, to put vinegar into their words and make
them sting! To try to wound a man's feelings by reviling his mother, or
by reviling any of his kindred, is a practice confined to the dregs of
society, and nauseous, to the last degree, to every gentle and
honourable mind. In Saul's case, the offence was still more infamous
because the woman reviled was his own wife. Surely if her failings
reflected on any one, they reflected on her husband rather than her son.
But that it was any real failing that Saul denounced when he called her
"the perverse rebellious woman," we greatly doubt. To a man like Saul,
any assertion of her rights by his wife, any refusal to be his abject
slave, any opposition to his wild and wicked designs against David,
would mean perversity and rebellion. We are far from thinking ill of
this nameless woman because her husband denounced her to her son. But
when we see Saul in one breath trying to kill his son with a javelin and
to destroy his wife's character by poisoned words, and at the same time
thirsting for the death of his son-in-law, we have a mournful exhibition
of the depth to which men are capable of descending from whom the Spirit
of the Lord hath departed.

No wonder that Jonathan arose from the table in fierce anger, and did
eat no meat the second day of the month. One wonders how the feast went
on thereafter, but one does not envy the guests. Did Saul drown his
stormy feelings in copious draughts of wine, and turn the holy festival
into a bacchanalian rout, amid whose boisterous mirth and tempestuous
exhilaration the reproaches of conscience would be stifled for the
hour?

The third day has come, on which, by preconcerted agreement, Jonathan
was to reveal to David his father's state of mind. David is in the
agreed-on hiding-place; and Jonathan, sallying forth with his servant,
shoots his arrows to the place which was to indicate the existence of
danger. Then, the lad having gone back to the city, and no one being on
the spot to observe them or interrupt them, the two friends come
together and have an affecting meeting. When Jonathan parted from David
three days before, he had not been without hopes of bringing to him a
favourable report of his father. David expected nothing of the kind; but
even David must have been shocked and horrified to find things so bad as
they were now reported. In an act of unfeigned reverence for the king's
son, David bowed himself three times to the ground. In token of much
love they kissed one another; while under the dark cloud of adversity
that had risen on them both, and that now compelled them to separate,
hardly ever again (as it turned out) to see one another in the flesh,
"they wept one with another until David exceeded."

    "They wept as only strong men weep,
    When weep they must, or die."

One consolation alone remained, and it was Jonathan that was able to
apply it. "Jonathan said to David, Go in peace, forasmuch as we have
sworn both of us in the name of the Lord, saying, The Lord be between me
and thee, and between my seed and thy seed for ever." Yes, even in that
darkest hour, Jonathan could say to David, "Go _in peace_." What peace?
"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee,
because he trusteth in Thee." "The angel of the Lord encampeth about
them that fear Him, and delivereth them." "Many are the afflictions of
the righteous, but the Lord delivereth them out of them all."

We cannot turn from this chapter without adding a word on the
friendships of the young. It is when hearts are tender that they are
most readily knit to each other, as the heart of Jonathan was knit to
the heart of David. But the formation of friendships is too important a
matter to be safely left to casual circumstances. It ought to be gone
about with care. If you have materials to choose among, see that you
choose the best. At the foundation of all friendship lies congeniality
of heart--a kindred feeling of which one often becomes conscious by
instinct at first sight. But there must also be elements of difference
in friends. It is a great point to have a friend who is above us in some
things, and who will thus be likely to draw us up to a higher level of
character, instead of dragging us down to a lower. And a friend is very
useful, if he is rich in qualities where we are poor. As it is in _In
Memoriam_--

    "He was rich where I was poor,
    And he supplied my want the more
    As his unlikeness fitted mine."

But surely, of all qualities in a friend or companion who is to do us
good, the most vital is, that he fears the Lord. As such friendships are
by far the most pleasant, so they are by far the most profitable. And
when you have made friends, stick by them. Don't let it be said of you
that your friend seemed to be everything to you yesterday, but nothing
to-day. And if your friends rise above you in the world, rejoice in
their prosperity, and banish every envious feeling; or if you should
rise above them, do not forget them, nor forsake them, but, as if you
had made a covenant before God, continue to show kindness to them and to
their children after them. Pray for them, and ask them to pray for you.

Perhaps it was with some view to the friendship of Jonathan and his
father that Solomon wrote, "There is a friend that sticketh closer than
a brother." Jonathan was such a friend to David. But the words suggest a
higher friendship. The glory of Jonathan's love for David fades before
our Lord's love for His brethren. If Jonathan were living among us, who
of us could look on him with indifference? Would not our hearts warm to
him, as we gazed on his noble form and open face, even though _we_ had
never been the objects of his affection? In the case of Jesus Christ, we
have all the noble qualities of Jonathan in far higher excellence than
his, and we have this further consideration, that for us He has laid
down His life, and that none who receive His friendship can ever be
separated from His love. And what an elevating and purifying effect that
friendship will have! In alliance with Him, you are in alliance with all
that is pure and bright, all that is transforming and beautifying; all
that can give peace to your conscience, joy to your heart, lustre to
your spirit, and beauty to your life; all that can make your garments
smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia; all that can bless you and make
you a blessing. And once you are truly His, the bond can never be
severed; David had to tear himself from Jonathan, but you will never
have to tear yourselves from Christ. Your union is cemented by the blood
of the everlasting covenant; and by the eternal efficacy of the prayer,
"Father, I will that they also whom Thou hast given me be with me where
I am."

FOOTNOTES:

[3] Thirlwall's "History of Greece."



CHAPTER XXVIII.

_DAVID AT NOB AND AT GATH._

1 SAMUEL xxi.


We enter here on a somewhat painful part of David's history. He is not
living so near to God as before, and in consequence his course becomes
more carnal and more crooked. We saw in our last chapter the element of
distrust rising up somewhat ominously in that solemn adjuration to
Jonathan, "Truly as the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is
but a step between me and death." These words, it is true, gave
expression to an undoubted and in a sense universal truth, a truth which
all of us should at all times ponder, but which David had special cause
to feel, under the circumstances in which he was placed. It was not the
fact of his giving solemn expression to this truth that indicated
distrust on the part of David, but the fact that he did not set over
against it another truth which was just as real,--that God had chosen
him for His service, and would not allow him to perish at the hand of
Saul. When a good man sees himself exposed to a terrible danger which he
has no means of averting, it is no wonder if the contemplation of that
danger gives rise for the moment to fear. But it is his privilege to
enjoy promises of protection and blessing at the hand of the unseen God,
and if his faith in these promises be active, it will not only
neutralize the fear, but raise him high above it. Now, the defect in
David's state of mind was, that while he fully realized the danger, he
did not by faith lay hold of that which was fitted to neutralize it. It
was Jonathan rather than David who by faith realized at this time
David's grounds of security. All through Jonathan's remarks in chapter
xx. you see him thinking of God as David's Protector,--thinking of the
great purposes which God meant to accomplish by him, and which were a
pledge that He would preserve him now,--thinking of David as a coming
man of unprecedented power and influence, whose word would determine
other men's destinies, and dispose of their fortunes. David seems to
have been greatly indebted to Jonathan for sustaining his faith while he
was with him; for after he parted from Jonathan, his faith fell very
low. Time after time, he follows that policy of deceit which he had
instructed Jonathan to pursue in explaining his absence from the feast
in Saul's house. It is painful in the last degree to see one whose faith
towered to such a lofty height in the encounter with Goliath, coming
down from that noble elevation, to find him resorting for
self-protection to the lies and artifices of an impostor.

We cannot excuse it, but we may account for it. David was wearied out by
Saul's restless and incessant persecution. We read in Daniel of a
certain persecutor that he should "wear out the saints of the Most
High," and it was the same sad experience from which David was now
suffering. It does not appear that he was gifted naturally with great
patience, or power of enduring. Rather we should suppose that one of
such nimble and lively temperament would soon tire of a strained and
uneasy attitude. It appears that Saul's persistency in injustice and
cruelty made David at last restless and impatient. All the more would he
have needed in such circumstances to resort to God, and seek from Him
the oil of grace to feed his patience, and bear him above the
infirmities of his nature. But this was just what he seems not to have
done. Carnal fear therefore grew apace, and faith fell into a state of
slumber. The eye of sense was active, looking out on the perils around
him; the eye of faith was dull, hardly able to decipher a single
promise. The eye of sense saw the vindictive scowl of Saul, the javelin
in his hand, and bands of soldiers sent out on every side to seize David
or slay him; the eye of faith did not see--what it might have seen--the
angel of the Lord encamping around him and delivering him. It was God's
purpose now to allow David to feel his own weakness; he was to pass
through that terrible ordeal when, tossed on a sea of trials, one feels
like Noah's dove, unable to find rest for the sole of one's foot, and
seems on the very eve of dropping helpless into the billows, till the
ark presents itself, and a gracious hand is put forth to the rescue.
Left to himself, tempted to make use of carnal expedients, and taught
the wretchedness of such expedients; learning also, through this
discipline, to anchor his soul more firmly on the promise of the living
God, David was now undergoing a most essential part of his early
training, gaining the experience that was to qualify him to say with
such earnestness to others, "O taste and see that the Lord is good:
blessed is the man that trusteth in Him."

On leaving Gibeah, David, accompanied with a few followers, bent his
steps to Nob, a city of the priests. The site of this city has not been
discovered; some think it stood on the north-eastern ridge of Mount
Olivet; this is uncertain, but it is evident that it was very close to
Jerusalem (see Isa. x. 32). Its distance from Gibeah would therefore be
but five or six miles, much too short for David to have had there any
great sense of safety. It appears to have become the seat of the sacred
services of the nation, some time after the destruction of Shiloh.
David's purpose in going there seems to have been simply to get a
shelter, perhaps for the Sabbath day, and to obtain supplies. Doeg,
indeed, charged Ahimelech, before Saul, with having inquired of the Lord
for David, but Ahimelech with some warmth denied the charge.[4] The
privilege of consulting the Urim and Thummim seems to have been confined
to the chief ruler of the nation; if with the sanction of the priest
David had done so now, he might have justly been charged with treason;
probably it was because he believed Doeg rather than Ahimelech, and
concluded that this royal privilege had been conceded by the priests to
David, that Saul was so enraged, and inflicted such dreadful retribution
on them. Afterwards, when Abiathar fled to David with the high priest's
ephod, through which the judgment of Urim and Thummim seems to have been
announced, David regarded that circumstance as an indication of the
Divine permission to him to make use of the sacred oracle.

But what shall we say of the untruth which David told Ahimelech, to
account for his coming there without armed attendants? "The king hath
commanded me a business, and hath said unto me, Let no man know
anything of the business whereabout I send thee, and what I have
commanded thee; and I have commanded my servants to such and such a
place." Here was a statement not only not true, but the very opposite of
the truth; spoken too to God's anointed high priest, and in the very
place consecrated to God's most solemn service; everything about the
speaker fitted to bring God to his mind, and to recall God's protection
of him in time past; yet the first thing he did on entering the sacred
place was to utter a falsehood, prompted by distrust, prompted by the
feeling that the pledged protection of the God of truth, before whose
shrine he now stood, was not sufficient. How plain the connection
between a deficient sense of God's truthfulness, and a deficient regard
to truth itself! What could have tempted David to act thus? According to
some, it was altogether an amiable and generous desire to keep Ahimelech
out of trouble, to screen him from the responsibility of helping a known
outlaw. But considering the gathering distrust of David's spirit at the
time, it seems more likely that he was startled at the fear which
Ahimelech expressed when he saw David coming alone, as if all were not
right between him and Saul, as if the truce that had been agreed on
after the affair of Naioth had now come to an end. Probably David felt
that if Ahimelech knew all, he would be still more afraid, and do
nothing to help him; moreover, the presence of Doeg the Edomite was
another cause of embarrassment, for Saul had once ordered all his
servants to kill David, and if the fierce Edomite were told that David
was now simply a fugitive, he might be willing enough to do the deed.
Anyhow, David now lent himself to the devices of the father of lies. And
so the brave spirit that had not quailed before Goliath, and that had
met the Philistines in so many terrific encounters, now quailed before a
phantom of its own devising, and shrank from what, at the moment, was
only an imaginary danger.

David succeeded in getting from Ahimelech what he wanted, but not
without difficulty. For when David asked for five loaves of bread, the
priest replied that he had no common bread, but only shewbread; he had
only the bread that had been taken that day from off the table on which
it stood before the Lord, and replaced by fresh bread, according to the
law. The priest was willing to give that bread to David, if he could
assure him that his attendants were not under defilement. It will be
remembered that our Lord adverted to this fact, as a justification of
His own disciples for plucking the ears of corn and eating them on the
Sabbath. The principle underlying both was, that when a ceremonial
obligation comes into collision with a moral duty, the lesser obligation
is to give place to the heavier. The keeping of the Sabbath free from
all work, and the appropriation of the shewbread to the use of the
priests alone, were but ceremonial obligations; the preservation of life
was a moral duty. It is sometimes a very difficult thing to determine
duty, when moral obligations appear to clash with each other, but there
was no difficulty in the collision of the moral and the ceremonial. Our
Lord would certainly not have sided with that body of zealots, in the
days of conflict between the Maccabees and the Syrians, who allowed
themselves to be cut in pieces by the enemy, rather than break the
Sabbath by fighting on that day.

David had another request to make of Ahimelech. "Is there not here under
thy hand spear or sword? for I have neither brought my sword nor my
weapons with me, because the king's business required haste." It was a
strange place to ask for military weapons. Surely the priests would not
need to defend themselves with these. Yet it happened that there was a
sword there which David knew well, and which he might reasonably
claim,--the sword of Goliath. "Give it me," said David; "there is none
like that." We read before, that David carried Goliath's head to
Jerusalem. Nob was evidently in the Jerusalem district, and as the sword
was there, there can be little doubt that it was at Nob the trophies had
been deposited.

So far, things had gone fairly well with David at Nob. But there was a
man there "detained before the Lord,"--prevented probably from
proceeding on his journey because it was the Sabbath day,--whose
presence gave no comfort to David, and was, indeed, an omen of evil.
Doeg, the Edomite, was the chief of the herdmen of Saul. Why Saul had
entrusted that office to a member of a nation that was notorious for its
bitter feelings towards Israel, we do not know; but the herdman seems to
have been like his master in his feelings towards David; he would
appear, indeed, to have joined the hereditary dislike of his nation to
the personal dislike of his master. Instinctively, as we learn
afterwards, David understood the feelings of Doeg. It would have been
well for him, when a shudder passed over him as he caught the scowling
countenance of the Edomite, had his own conscience been easier than it
was. It would have been well for him had he been ruled by that spirit of
trust which triumphed so gloriously the day he first got possession of
that sword. It would have been well for him had he been free from the
disturbing consciousness of having offended God by borrowing the devices
of the father of lies and bringing them into the sanctuary, to pollute
the air of the house of God. No wonder, though, David was restless
again! "And David arose, and fled that day for fear of Saul, and went to
Achish the king of Gath."

How different his state and prospects now from what they had been a
little time before! Then the world smiled on him; fame and honour,
wealth and glory, flowed in on him; God was his Father; conscience was
calm; he hardly knew the taste of misery. But how has his sky become
overcast! A homeless and helpless wanderer, with scarcely an attendant
or companion; in momentary fear of death; fain to beg a morsel of bread
where he could get it; a creature so banned and cursed that kindness to
him involved the risk of death; his heart bleeding for the loss of
Jonathan; his soul clouded by distrust of God; his conscience troubled
by the vague sense of unacknowledged sin! And yet he is destined to be
king of Israel, the very ideal of a good and prosperous monarch, and the
earthly type of the Son of God! Like a lost sheep, he has gone astray
for a time, but the Good Shepherd will leave the ninety-and-nine and go
among the mountains till He find him; and his experience will give a
wondrous depth to that favourite song of young and old of every age and
country, "_He restoreth my soul_: He leadeth me in the paths of
righteousness, for His name's sake."

And now we must follow him to Gath, the city of Goliath. Down the slope
of Mount Olivet, across the brook Kedron, and past the stronghold of
Zion, and probably through the very valley of Elah where he had fought
with the giant, David makes his way to Gath. It was surely a strange
place to fly to, a sign of the despair in which David found himself!
What reception could the conqueror of Goliath expect in his city? What
retribution was due to him for the hundred foreskins, and for the deeds
of victory which had inspired the Hebrew singers when they sang of the
tens of thousands whom David had slain?

It will hardly do to say that he reckoned on not being recognised. It is
more likely that he relied on a spirit not unknown among barbarous
princes towards warriors dishonoured at home, as when Themistocles took
refuge among the Persians, or Coriolanus among the Volscians. That he
took this step without much reflection on its ulterior bearings is well
nigh certain. For, granting that he should be favourably received, this
would be on the understanding that his services would be at the command
of his protector, or at the very least it would place him under an
obligation of gratitude that would prove highly embarrassing at some
future time. Happily, the scheme did not succeed. The jealousy of the
Philistine nobles was excited. "The servants of Achish said unto him, Is
not this David, the king of the land? Did they not sing one to another
of him in dances, saying, Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his
ten thousands?" David began to feel himself in a false position. He laid
up these words in his heart, and was sore afraid of Achish. The misery
of his situation and the poverty of his resources may both be inferred
from the unworthy device to which he resorted to extricate himself from
his difficulty. He feigned himself mad, and conducted himself as madmen
commonly do. "He scrabbled on the door of the gate, and let his spittle
fall down upon his beard." But the device failed. "Have I need of
madmen," asked the king, "that ye have brought this fellow to play the
madman in my presence? shall this fellow come into my house?" A Jewish
tradition alleges that both the wife and daughter of Achish were mad; he
had plenty of that sort of people already: no need of more! The title of
the thirty-fourth Psalm tells us, "he drove him away, and he departed."

Have any of you ever been tempted to resort to a series of devices and
deceits either to avoid a danger or to attain an object? Have you been
tempted to forsake the path of straightforward honesty and truth, and to
pretend that things were different with you from what they really were?
I do not accuse you of that wickedness which they commit who
deliberately imprison conscience, and fearlessly set up their own will
and their own interests as their king. What you have done under the
peculiar circumstances in which you found yourselves is not what you
would ordinarily have done. In this one connection, you felt pressed to
get along in one way or another, and the only available way was that of
deceit and device. You were very unhappy at the beginning, and your
misery increased as you went on. Everything about you was in a
constrained, unnatural condition,--conscience, temper, feelings, all out
of order. At one time it seemed as if you were going to succeed; you
were on the crest of a wave that promised to bear you to land, but the
wave broke, and you were sent floundering in the broken water. You were
obliged to go from device to device, with a growing sense of misery. At
last the chain snapped, and both you and your friends were confronted
with the miserable reality. But know this: that it would have been
infinitely, worse for you if your device had succeeded than that it
failed. If it had succeeded, you would have been permanently entangled
in evil principles and evil ways, that would have ruined your soul.
Because you failed, God showed that He had not forsaken you. David
prospering at Gath would have been a miserable spectacle; David driven
away by Achish is on the way to brighter and better days.

For, if we can accept the titles of some of the Psalms, it would seem
that the carnal spell, under which David had been for some time, burst
when Achish drove him away, and that he returned to his early faith and
trust. It was to the cave of Adullam that he fled, and the hundred and
forty-second Psalm claims to have been written there. So also the
thirty-fourth Psalm, as we have seen, bears to have been written "when
he changed his behaviour" (feigned madness) "before Abimelech"
(Achish?), "who drove him away, and he departed." So much uncertainty
has been thrown of late years on these superscriptions, that we dare not
trust to them explicitly; yet recognising in them at least the value of
old traditions, we may regard them as more or less probable, especially
when they seem to agree with the substance of the Psalms themselves.
With reference to the thirty-fourth, we miss something in the shape of
confession of sin, such as we should have expected of one whose lips had
_not_ been kept from speaking guile. In other respects the psalm fits
the situation. The image of the young lions roaring for their prey might
very naturally be suggested by the wilderness. But the chief feature of
the psalm is the delightful evidence it affords of the blessing that
comes from trustful fellowship with God. And there is an expression that
seems to imply that that blessing had not been _always_ enjoyed by the
Psalmist; he had lost it once; but there came a time when (ver. 4) "I
sought the Lord, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my
fears." And the experience of that new time was so delightful that the
Psalmist had resolved that he would always be on that tack: "I will
bless the Lord _at all times_; His praise shall _continually_ be in my
mouth." How changed the state of his spirit from the time when he
feigned madness at Gath! When he asks, "What man is he that desireth
life and loveth many days that he may see good?" (ver. 12)--what man
would fain preserve his life from harassing anxiety and bewildering
dangers?--the prompt reply is, "Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips
from speaking guile." Have nothing to do with shifts and pretences and
false devices; be candid and open, and commit all to God. "O taste and
see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in Him. O
fear the Lord, _ye His saints_" (for you too are liable to forsake the
true confidence), "for there is no want to them that fear Him. The young
lions do lack and suffer hunger, but they that seek the Lord shall not
lack any good thing. The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and
delivereth them out of all their troubles.... Many are the afflictions
of the righteous; but the Lord delivereth them out of them all."

"The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell gat hold upon
me; I found trouble and sorrow. Then called I upon the name of the Lord:
O Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul. Gracious is the Lord, and
righteous; yea, our God is merciful. The Lord preserveth the simple; I
was brought low, and He helped me. Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for
the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee" (Psalm cxvi. 3-7).

FOOTNOTES:

[4] See 1 Sam. xxii. 15:--"Have I to-day begun to inquire of God for
him? be it far from me: let not the king impute anything unto his
servant, nor to all the house of my father; for thy servant knoweth
nothing of all this, less or more" (R.V.) To deny beginning to do a
thing is much the same as to deny doing it.



CHAPTER XXIX.

_DAVID AT ADULLAM, MIZPEH, AND HARETH._

1 SAMUEL xxii.


The cave of Adullam, to which David fled on leaving Gath, has been
placed in various localities even in modern times; but as the Palestine
Exploration authorities have placed the town in the valley of Elah, we
may regard it as settled that the cave lay there, not far indeed from
the place where David had had his encounter with Goliath. It was a
humble dwelling for a king's son-in-law, nor could David have thought of
needing it on the memorable day when he did such wonders with his sling
and stone. These "dens and caves of the earth"--effects of great
convulsions in some remote period of its history--what service have they
often rendered to the hunted and oppressed! How many a devout saint, of
whom the world was not worthy, has blessed God for their shelter! With
how much purer devotion and loftier fellowship, with how much more
sublime and noble exercises of the human spirit have many of them been
associated, than some of the proudest and costliest temples that have
been reared in name--often little more--to the service of God!

If David at first was somewhat an object of jealousy to his own family,
in this the day of his trials they showed a different spirit. "When his
brethren and all his father's house heard of it, they went down thither
to him." As the proverb says, "Blood is thicker than water," and often
adversity draws families together between whom prosperity has been like
a wedge. If our relations are prospering while we are poor, we think of
them as if they had moved away from us; but when their fortunes are
broken, and the world turns its back on them, we get closer, our
sympathy revives. We think all the better of David's family that when
they heard of his outlaw condition they all went down to him. Besides
these, "every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt,
and every one that was discontented, gathered themselves unto him; and
he became a captain over them; and there were with him about four
hundred men." The account here given of the circumstances of this band
is not very flattering, but there are two things connected with it to be
borne in mind: in the first place, that the kind of men who usually
choose the soldier's calling are not your men of plodding industry, but
men who shrink from monotonous labour; and, in the second place, that
under the absolute rule of Saul there might be many very worthy persons
in debt and discontented and in distress, men who had come into that
condition because they were not so ready to cringe to despotism as their
ruler desired. Mixed and motley therefore though David's troop may have
been, it was far from contemptible; and their adherence was fitted
greatly to encourage him, because it showed that public feeling was with
him, that his cause was not looked on as desperate, that his standard
was one to which it was deemed safe and hopeful to resort.

But if, at the first glance, the troop appeared somewhat disreputable,
it was soon joined by two men, the one a prophet, the other a priest,
whose adherence must have brought to it a great accession of moral
weight. The prophet was Gad (ver. 5), who next to Samuel seems to have
stood highest in the nation as a man of God, a man of holy counsel, and
elevated, heavenly character. His open adherence to David (which seems
to be implied in ver. 5) must have had the best effects both on David
himself and on the people at large. It must have been a great blessing
to David to have such a man as Gad beside him; for, with all his
personal piety, he seems to have required a godly minister at his side.
No man derived more benefit from the communion of saints, or was more
apt to suffer for want of it; for, as we have seen, he had begun to
decline in spirituality when he left Samuel at Naioth, and still more
when he was parted from Jonathan. When Gad joined him, David must have
felt that he was sent to him from the Lord, and could not but be full of
gratitude for so conspicuous an answer to his prayers. It would seem
that Gad remained in close relation to David to the close of his life.
It was he that came from the Lord to offer him his choice between three
forms of chastisement after his offence in numbering the people; and
from the fact of his being called "David's seer" (2 Sam. xxiv. 11) we
conclude that he and David were intimately associated. It was he also
that instructed David to buy the threshing-floor of Araunah the
Jebusite, and thus to consecrate to God a spot with which, to the very
end of time, the most hallowed thoughts must always be connected.

The other eminent person that joined David about this time was Abiathar
the priest. But before adverting to this, we must follow the thread of
the narrative and especially note the tragedy that occurred at Nob, the
city of the priests.

From the mode of life which David had to follow and the difficulty of
obtaining subsistence for his troop at one place for any length of time,
he was obliged to make frequent changes. On leaving the cave of Adullam,
which was near the western border of the tribe of Judah, he traversed
the whole breadth of that tribe, and crossing the Jordan, came to the
territories of Moab. He was concerned for the safety of his father and
mother, knowing too well the temper of Eastern kings, and how they
thirsted for the blood, not only of their rivals, but of all their
relations. He feared that they would not be let alone at Bethlehem or in
any other part of Saul's kingdom. But what led him to think of the king
of Moab? Perhaps a tender remembrance of his ancestress Ruth, the damsel
from Moab, who had been so eminent for her devotion to her
mother-in-law. Might there not be found in the king of Moab somewhat of
a like disposition, that would look with pity on an old man and woman
driven from their home, not indeed, like Naomi, by famine, but by what
was even worse, the shameful ingratitude and murderous fury of a wicked
king? If such was David's hope, it was not without success; his father
and his mother dwelt with the king of Moab all the time that David was
in the hold.

But it was not God's purpose that David should lurk in a foreign land.
The prophet Gad directed him to return to the land of Judah. It was
within the boundaries of that tribe, accordingly, that the rest of
David's exile was spent, with the exception of the time at the very end
when he again resorted to Philistine territory. His first hiding-place
was the forest of Hareth.

While David was here, Saul, encamped in military state at Gibeah,
delivered an extraordinary speech to the men of his own tribe. "Hear
now, ye Benjamites; will the son of Jesse give every one of you fields
and vineyards, and make you all captains of thousands, and captains of
hundreds; that all of you have conspired against me, and there is none
that showeth me that my son hath made a league with the son of Jesse,
and there is none of you that is sorry for me, or that showeth me that
my son hath stirred up my servant against me, to lie in wait, as at this
day?" It would have been difficult for any other man to condense so much
that was vile in spirit into the dimensions of a little speech like
this. It begins with a base appeal to the cupidity of his countrymen,
the Benjamites, among whom he was probably in the habit of distributing
the possessions of his enemies, as, for instance, the Gibeonites, who
dwelt near him, and whom he slew, contrary to the covenant made with
them by Joshua (2 Sam. xxi. 2). It accuses his people of having
conspired against him, because they had not spoken to him of the
friendship of his son with David, although that fact must have been
notorious. It accuses the noble Jonathan of having stirred up David
against Saul, while neither Jonathan nor David had ever lifted a little
finger against him, and both the one and the other might have been
trusted to serve him with unflinching fidelity if he had only given them
a fair chance. It indicates that nothing would be more agreeable to Saul
than any information about David or those connected with him that would
give him an excuse for some deed of overwhelming vengeance. Did ever man
draw his own portrait in viler colours than Saul in this speech?

There was one bosom--let us hope only one--in which it awoke a response.
It was that of Doeg the Edomite. He told the story of what he had seen
at Nob, adding thereto the unfounded statement that Ahimelech had
inquired of the Lord for David. Ahimelech and the whole college of
priests were accordingly sent for, and they came. The charge brought
against him was a very offensive one; in so far, it was a statement of
facts, but of facts placed in an odious light, of facts coloured with a
design which Ahimelech never entertained. Oh, how many an innocent man
has suffered in this way! Even in courts of justice, by pleaders whose
interest is on the other side, and sometimes by judges (like Jeffreys)
steeped in hatred and prejudice, how often have acts that were quite
innocent been put to the account of treason, or put to the account of
malice, or cunningly forged into a chain, indicating a deliberate design
to injure another! It can never be too earnestly insisted on that to be
just to a man you must not merely ascertain the real facts of his case,
but you must put the facts in their true light, and not colour them with
prejudices of your own or with suppositions which the man repudiates.

The conduct of Ahimelech was manly and straightforward, but indiscreet.
He admitted the facts, with the exception of the statement that he had
inquired of the Lord for David. He vindicated right manfully the
faithful, noble services of David, services that ought to have excluded
the very idea of treason or conspiracy. He protested that he knew
nothing of any ground the king had against David, or of any cause that
could have led him to believe that in helping him he was offending Saul.
But just because Ahimelech's defence was so true and so complete, it was
most offensive to Saul. What is there a despot likes worse to hear than
that he is entirely in the wrong? What words irritate him so much as
those which prove the entire innocence of some one with whom he is
angry? Saul was angry both with David and with Ahimelech. Ahimelech had
the great misfortune to prove to him that in both cases there was no
shadow of ground for his anger. In proportion as Saul's reason should
have been satisfied, his temper was excited. What an uncontrollable
condition that temper must have been in when the death of Ahimelech was
decreed, and all his father's house! We do not wonder that no one could
be found in his bodyguard to execute the order. Did this not stagger and
sober the king? Far from it. His fit of rage was so hot and imperious
that he would not be baulked. Turning to Doeg, he commanded him to fall
on the priests. And this vile man had the brutality to execute the
order, and to plunge his sword into the heart of fourscore and five
unarmed persons that wore the garments which even in heathen nations
usually secured protection and safety. And as if it were not enough to
kill the men, their city, Nob, was utterly destroyed. Men and women,
children and sucklings, oxen and asses and sheep--a thorough massacre
was made of them all. Had Nob been a city of warriors that had resisted
the king's armies with haughty insolence, harassed them by sorties,
entrapped them by stratagems, and exasperated them by hideous cruelty to
their prisoners, but at last been overpowered, it could not have had a
more terrible doom. And had Saul never committed any other crime, this
would have been enough to separate him from the Lord for ever, and to
bring down on him the horrors of the night at Endor and of the day that
followed on Mount Gilboa.

This cruel and sacrilegious murder must have told against Saul and his
cause with prodigious effect. There could not have been a single priest
or Levite throughout the kingdom whose blood would not boil at the news
of the massacre, and whose sympathies would not be enlisted, more or
less, on behalf of David, now openly proclaimed by Saul as his rival,
and probably known to have been anointed by Samuel as his successor. Not
only the priests and Levites, but every rightminded man throughout the
land would share in this feeling, and many a prayer would be offered for
David that God would protect him, and spare him to be a blessing to his
country. The very presence in his camp of Abiathar, the son of
Ahimelech, who escaped the massacre, with his ephod,--an official means
of consulting God in all cases of difficulty,--would be a visible proof
to his followers and to the community at large, that God was on his
side. And when the solemn rites of the national worship were performed
in his camp, and when, at each turn of public affairs, the high priest
was seen in communication with Jehovah, the feeling could not fail to
gain strength that David's cause was the cause of God, and the cause of
the country, and that, in due time, his patient sufferings and his noble
services would be crowned with the due reward.

But if the news of the massacre would tend on the whole to improve
David's position with the people, it must have occasioned a terrible
pang to David himself. There was, indeed, one point of view in which
something of the kind was to be looked for. Long ago, it had been
foretold to Eli, when he tolerated so calmly the scandalous wickedness
of his sons, "Behold, the days come that I will cut off thine arm, and
the arm of thy father's house, but there shall not be an old man in
thine house. And thou shalt see an enemy in My habitation, in all the
wealth which God shall give Israel: and there shall not be an old man in
thy house for ever." Ahimelech was a grandson of Eli, and the other
massacred priests were probably of Eli's blood. Here, then, at last, was
the fulfilment of the sentence announced to Eli; doomed as his house had
been, their subsistence for years back was of the nature of a respite;
and here, at length, was the catastrophe that had been so distinctly
foretold.

That consideration, however, would not be much, if any, consolation to
David. If the falsehood which he had told to Ahimelech was really
dictated by a desire to save the high priest from conscious implication
with his affairs--with the condition of one who was now an outlaw and a
fugitive, it had failed most terribly of the desired effect. The issue
of the lie only served to place David's duplicity in a more odious
light. There is one thing in David, when he received the information,
that we cannot but admire--his readiness to take to himself his full
share of blame. "I have occasioned the death of all thy father's house."
And more than that, he did not even protest that it was impossible to
have foreseen what was going to happen. For at the very time when he was
practising the falsehood on Ahimelech, he owns that he had a
presentiment of mischief to follow, "I knew it that day, when Doeg the
Edomite was there, that he would surely tell Saul." Nor did he excuse
himself on the ground that the massacre was the fulfilment of the
longstanding sentence on Eli's house. He knew well that that
circumstance in no degree lessened his own guilt, or the guilt of Doeg
and Saul. Though God may use men's wicked passions to bring about His
purposes, that in no degree lessens the guilt of these passions. It
seems as if David never could have forgiven himself his share in this
dreadful business. And what a warning this conveys to us! Are you not
sometimes tempted to think that sin to you is not a very serious matter,
because you will get forgiveness for it, the atoning work of the Saviour
will cleanse you from its guilt? Be it so; but what if your sin has
involved others, and if no atoning blood has been sprinkled on them?
What of the youth whom your careless example first led to drink, and who
died a miserable drunkard? What of the clerk whom you instructed to tell
a lie? What of the companion of your sensuality whom you drove nearer to
hell? Alas, alas! sin is like a network, the ramifications of which go
out on the right hand and on the left, and when we break God's law, we
cannot tell what the consequences to others may be! And how can we be
ever comforted if we have been the occasion of ruin to any? It seems as
if the burden of that feeling could never be borne; as if the only way
of escape were, to be put out of existence altogether!

The superscription of the fifty-second Psalm bears--"Maschil of David;
when Doeg the Edomite came and told Saul, David is come to the house of
Ahimelech." There is not much in this title to recommend it, as the
information that was given by Doeg to Saul is not stated accurately. We
might have expected, too, that if Doeg was alone in the Psalmist's eye,
the atrocious slaughter of the priests would have had a share of
reprobation, as well as the sharp, calumnious, mischievous tongue which
is the chief object of denunciation. And though Doeg, as the chief of
Saul's bondmen, might be a rich man, that position would hardly have
entitled him to be called a mighty man, nor to assume the swaggering
tone of independence here ascribed to him. Whoever was really the object
of denunciation in this psalm, seems however to have belonged to the
same class with Doeg, in respect of his wicked tongue and love of
mischief. It is indeed a wretched character that is delineated: the
Psalmist's enemy is at once mischievous and mighty; and not only is he
mischievous, but he boasts himself in it. He is shameless and without
conscience, bent on doing all the evil that he can. Let him only have a
chance of bringing a railing accusation against God's servants, and he
does it with delight. But his conduct is senseless as it is wicked. God
is unchangeably good, and His goodness is a sure defence to His servants
against all the calumnious devices of the greatest and strongest of men.
It is the tongue of this evil man that is his instrument of mischief. It
is utterly unscrupulous, sharp as a razor, cunning, devouring. A liar is
a serious enemy, one who is utterly unprincipled, clever withal, and who
trains himself with great skill to do mischief with his tongue. It is
painful to be at the mercy of a calumniator who does not launch against
you a clumsy and incredible calumny, but one that has an element of
probability in it, only fearfully distorted. Especially when the
calumniator is one that _deviseth_ mischief, who loves evil more than
good, to whom truth is too tame to be cared for, who delights in
falsehood because it is more piquant, more exciting. To those who have
learned to regard it as the great business of life to spread light,
order, peace, and joy, such men appear to be monsters, and indeed they
are; but it is a painful experience to lie at their mercy.

To this class belonged Doeg, a monster in human form, to whom it was no
distress, but apparently a congenial employment, to murder in cold blood
a very hecatomb of men consecrated to the service of God. No doubt it
would appal David to think that such a man was now leagued with Saul as
his bitter and implacable enemy. But his faith saw him in the same
prostrate position in which his faith had seen Goliath. Men cannot defy
God in vain. Men dare not defy that truth and that mercy which are
attributes of God. "God shall likewise destroy thee for ever: He shall
take thee away, and pluck thee out of thy dwelling-place, and root thee
out of the land of the living. The righteous also shall see, and fear,
and shall laugh at him."

What became of Doeg we do not know. The historian does not introduce his
name again. Before David came to power, he had probably received his
doom. Had he still survived, we should have been likely again to fall in
with his name. The Jews have a tradition that he was Saul's
armour-bearer at the battle of Gilboa, and that the sword by which he
and his master fell, was no other than that which had slain the priests
of the Lord. As for the truth of this we cannot say. But even supposing
that no special judgment befell him, we cannot fancy him as other than a
most miserable man. With such a heart and such a tongue, with the load
of a guilty life lying heavy on his soul, and that life crowned by such
an infamous proceeding as the massacre of the priests, we cannot think
of him as one who enjoyed life, but as a man of surly and gloomy nature,
to whom life grew darker and darker, till it was extinguished in some
miserable ending. In contrast with such a career, how bright and how
much to be desired was David's anticipated future:--"I am like a green
olive-tree in the house of my God: I trust in the mercy of God for ever
and ever. I will praise Thy name for ever, because Thou hast done it:
and I will wait on Thy name, for it is good before Thy saints."

"Many sorrows shall be to the wicked; but he that trusteth in the Lord,
mercy shall compass him about."



CHAPTER XXX.

_DAVID AT KEILAH, ZIPH, AND MAON._

1 SAMUEL xxiii.


The period of David's life shortly sketched in this chapter, must have
been full of trying and exciting events. If we knew all the details,
they would probably be full of romantic interest; many a tale of
privation, disease, discomfort, on the one hand, and of active conflicts
and hairbreadth escapes on the other. The district which he frequented
was a mountainous tract, bordering on the west coast of the Dead Sea,
and lying exposed more or less to the invasions of the neighbouring
nations. In the immediate neighbourhood of Ziph, Maon, and Carmel, the
country--a fine upland plain--is remarkably rich and fertile; but
between these places and the Dead Sea it changes to a barren wilderness;
the rocky valleys that run down to the margin of the sea, parched by the
heat and drought, produce only a dry stunted grass. Innumerable caves
are everywhere to be seen, still affording shelter to outlaws and
robbers. But at Engedi (now Ain-Jidy, "the fountain of the goat"), the
last place mentioned in this chapter, the traveller finds a little plain
on the shore of the Dead Sea, where the soil is remarkably rich; a
delicious fountain fertilizes it; shut in between walls of rock, both
its climate and its products are like those of the tropics; it only
wants cultivation to render it a most prolific spot.

By what means did David obtain sustenance for himself and his large
troop in these sequestered regions? Bayle, in the article in his famous
Dictionary on "David,"--an article which gave the cue to much that has
been said and written against him since,--speaks of them as a troop of
robbers, and compares them to the associates of Catiline, and even Dean
Stanley calls them "freebooters." Both expressions are obviously
unwarranted. The only class of persons whom David and his troop regarded
as enemies were the open enemies of his country,--that is, either
persons who lived by plunder, or the tribes on whom Saul, equally with
himself, would have made war. That David regarded himself as entitled to
attack and pillage the Hebrew settlers in his own tribe of Judah is
utterly inconsistent with all that we know both of his character and of
his history. If David had a weakness, it lay in his extraordinary
partiality for his own people, contrasted with his hard and even harsh
feelings towards the nations that so often annoyed them. Nothing was too
good for a Hebrew, nothing too severe for an alien. In after life, we
see how his heart was torn to its very centre by the judgment that fell
upon his people after his offence in numbering the people (2 Sam. xxiv.
17); while the record of his severity to the Ammonites cannot be read
without a shudder (2 Sam. xii. 31). Besides, in this very narrative, in
the account of his collision with Nabal (1 Sam. xxv. 7), we find David
putting in the very forefront of his message to the churl the fact that
all the time he and his troop were in Carmel the shepherds of Nabal
sustained no hurt, and his flocks no diminution. Instead of fleecing
his own countrymen, he sent them presents when he was more successful
than usual against their common foes (1 Sam. xxx. 26). Unquestionably
therefore such terms as "robbers" and "freebooters" are quite
undeserved.

One chief source of support would obviously be the chase--the wild
animals that roamed among these mountains, the wild goat and the coney,
the pigeon and the partridge, and other creatures whose flesh was clean.
Possibly, patches of soil, like the oasis at Engedi, would be
cultivated, and a scanty return obtained from the labour. A third
employment would be that of guarding the flocks of the neighbouring
shepherds both from bears, wolves, and lions, and from the attacks of
plundering bands, for which service some acknowledgment was certainly
due. At the best, it was obviously a most uncomfortable mode of life,
making not a little rough work very necessary; an utter contrast to the
peaceful early days of Bethlehem, and rendering it infinitely more
difficult to sing, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want."

Acting as guardian to the shepherds in the neighbourhood, and being the
avowed foe of all the Arab tribes who were continually making forays
from their desert haunts on the land of Judah, David was in the very
midst of enemies. Hence probably the allusions in some of the psalms.
"Consider mine enemies, for they are many, and they hate me with cruel
hatred." "Mine enemies would daily swallow me up, for there be many that
fight against me, O Thou Most High." "My soul is among lions, and I lie
even among them that are set on fire, even the sons of men whose teeth
are spears and arrows and their tongue a sharp sword." Could we know all
his trials and difficulties, we should be amazed at his tranquillity.
One morning, an outpost brings him word that Saul is marching against
him. He hastily arranges a retreat, and he and his men clamber over the
mountains, perhaps under a burning sun, and reach their halting-place at
night, exhausted with thirst, hunger, and fatigue. Scarcely have they
lain down, when an alarm is given that a body of Bedouins are plundering
the neighbouring sheepfolds. Forgetful of their fatigues, they rush to
their arms, pursue the invaders, and rescue the prey. Next morning,
perhaps, the very men whose flock he had saved, refuse to make him any
acknowledgment. Murmurs rise from his hungry followers, and a sort of
mutiny is threatened if he will not allow them to help themselves. To
crown all, he learns by-and-bye, that the people whom he has delivered
have turned traitors and are about to give him up to Saul. Wonderful was
the faith that could rise above such troubles, and say, "Mine eyes are
ever toward the Lord, for He shall pluck my feet out of the net."

In illustration of these remarks let us note first what took place in
connection with Keilah. This was a place of strength and importance not
far from the land of the Philistines. A rumour reaches him that the
Philistines are fighting against it and robbing the threshing-floors.
The first thing he does, on hearing this rumour, is to inquire of God
whether he should go and attack the Philistines. It is not a common
case. The Philistines were a powerful enemy; probably their numbers were
large, and it was a serious thing for David to provoke them when he had
so many enemies besides. This was evidently the feeling of his
followers. "Behold, we be afraid here in Judah: how much more then if we
go to Keilah against the armies of the Philistines?" But David is in an
admirable frame of mind, and his only anxiety is about knowing
precisely the will of God. He inquires again, and when he gets his
answer he does not hesitate an instant. It was about this time that
Abiathar the son of Ahimelech came to him, bringing an ephod from Nob,
perhaps the only sacred thing that in the hurry and horror of his flight
he was able to carry away. And now, in his time of need, David finds the
value of these things; he knows the privilege of fearing God, and of
having God at his right hand. The fears of his men appear now to be
overcome; he goes to Keilah, attacks the Philistines, smites them with a
very great slaughter, brings away their cattle and rescues the people.
It is a great deliverance, and David, with peace and plenty around him,
and the benedictions of the men of Keilah, breathes freely and praises
God.

But his sense of ease and tranquillity was of short duration. Saul hears
of what has taken place, and hears that David has taken up his quarters
within the town of Keilah. He chuckles over the news with fiendish
satisfaction, for Keilah is a fortified town; he will be able to shut up
David within its walls and lay siege to the place, and when he has taken
it, David will be at his mercy. But Saul, as usual, reckons without his
host. David has received information that leads him to suspect that Saul
is meditating mischief against him, and it looks as if he had come to
Keilah only to fall into a trap,--to fall into the hands of Saul. But
though a new danger has arisen, the old refuge still remains. "Bring
hither the ephod," he says to Abiathar. And communication being again
established with Heaven, two questions are asked: Will Saul come down to
Keilah, to destroy the city for David's sake? Yes, he will. Will the men
of Keilah whom David has saved from the Philistines distinguish
themselves for their gratitude or for their treachery? They will become
traitors; they will deliver David up to Saul. So there is nothing for it
but for David to escape from Keilah. The worst of it is, he has no other
place to go to. He goes forth from Keilah, as his father Abraham went
forth from Ur of the Chaldees, not knowing whither. He and his followers
went "whithersoever they could go." Treachery was a new foe, and when
the treachery was on the part of those on whom he had just conferred a
signal benefit, it was most discouraging; it seemed to indicate that he
could never be safe.

Flying from Keilah, he takes refuge in a part of the wilderness near
Ziph. Being very rocky and mountainous, it affords good opportunities
for hiding; but in proportion as it is advantageous for that purpose, it
is unfavourable for getting sufficient means of subsistence. A wood in
the neighbourhood of Ziph afforded the chance of both. In this wood
David enjoys the extraordinary privilege of a meeting with Jonathan.
What a contrast to his treatment from the men of Keilah! If, on turning
his back on them, he was disposed to say, "All men are liars," the
blessed generosity of Jonathan modifies the sentiment. In such
circumstances, the cheering words of his friend and the warmth of his
embrace must have come on David with infinite satisfaction. They were to
him what the loving words of the dying thief were to the Saviour, amid
the babel and blasphemy of Calvary. Who, indeed, does not see in the
David of this time, persevering in his work under such fearful
discouragements, under the treachery of men with hearts like Judas
Iscariot, experiencing the worst treatment from some whom he had
benefited already, and from others whom he was to benefit still
more--who can fail to see the type of Christ, patiently enduring the
cross at the hands and in the stead of the very men whom by His
sufferings He was to save and bless? For David, like our blessed Lord,
though not with equal steadfastness, drinks the cup which the Father has
given him; he holds to the work which has been given him to do.

The brief note of Jonathan's words to David in the wood is singularly
beautiful and suggestive. "Jonathan, Saul's son, arose and went to David
into the wood, and strengthened his hand in God. And he said unto him,
Fear 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." To begin with the last of Jonathan's words,
what a lurid light they throw on the conduct of Saul! He was under no
misapprehension as to the Divine destiny of David. He must have known
therefore that in fighting against David, he was fighting against God.
It looks unaccountable madness; yet what worse is it than a thousand
other schemes in which, to carry out their ends, men have trampled on
every moral precept, as if there were no God, no lawgiver, ruler, or
judge above, no power in hell or heaven witnessing their actions to
bring them all into judgment?

In his words to David the faith and piety of Jonathan were as apparent
as his friendship. He strengthened his hand in God. Simple but beautiful
words! He put David's hand as it were into God's hand, in token that
they were one, in token that the Almighty was pledged to keep and bless
him, and that when he and his God were together, no weapon formed
against him would ever prosper. Surely no act of friendship is so true
friendship as this. To remind our Christian friends in their day of
trouble of their relation to God, to encourage them to think of His
interest in them and His promises to them; to drop in their ear some of
His assurances--"I will never leave thee nor forsake thee,"--is surely
the best of all ways to encourage the downcast, and send them on their
way rejoicing.

And what a hallowed word that was with which Jonathan began his
exhortation--"Fear not." The "fear not's" of Scripture are a remarkable
garland. All of them have their root in grace, not in nature. They all
imply a firm exercise of faith. And Jonathan's "fear not" was no
exception. If David had not been a man of faith, it would have sounded
like hollow mockery. "The hand of Saul my father shall not find thee."
Was not Saul with his well-equipped force, at that very moment, within a
few miles of him, while he, with his half-starved followers was at his
very wits' end, not knowing where to turn to next? "Thou shalt be king
over Israel." Nay, friend, I should be well pleased, David might have
said, if I were again feeding my father's flocks in Bethlehem, with all
that has happened since then obliterated, reckoned as if it had never
been. "And I shall be next unto thee." O Jonathan, how canst thou say
that? Thou art the king's eldest son, the throne ought to be thine,
there is none worthier of it; the very fact that thou canst say that to
me shows what a kingly generosity is in thy bosom, and how well entitled
thou art to reign over Israel! Yes, David, but does not the very fact of
Jonathan using such words show that he is in closest fellowship with
God? Only a man pervaded through and through by the Spirit of God could
speak thus to the person who stands between him and what the world
would call his reasonable ambition. In that spirit of Jonathan there is
a goodness altogether Divine. Oh what a contrast to his father, to Saul!
What a contrast to the ordinary spirit of jealousy, when some one is
like to cut us out of a coveted prize! Some one at school is going to
beat you at the competition. Some one in business is going to get the
situation for which you are so eager. Some one is going to carry off the
fair hand to which you so ardently aspire. Where, oh where, in such
cases, is the spirit of Jonathan? Look at it, study it, admire it; and
in its clear and serene light, see what a black and odious spirit
jealousy is; and oh, seek that _you_, by the grace of God, may be, not a
Saul, but a Jonathan!

It would appear that Saul had left the neighbourhood of Ziph in despair
of finding David, and had returned to Gibeah. But the distance was
small--probably not more than a long day's journey. And after a time,
Saul is recalled to Ziph by a message from the Ziphites. "Then came up
the Ziphites to Saul to Gibeah, saying, Doth not David hide himself with
us in strong holds in the woods, in the hill of Hachilah, which is on
the south of Jeshimon? Now therefore, O king, come down according to all
the desire of thy soul to come down; and our part shall be to deliver
him into the king's hand." The men of Keilah had not gone the length of
treachery, for when they were thinking of it, David escaped; but even if
they had, they would have had something to say for themselves. Was it
not better to give up David and let him suffer, than to keep him in
their city, and let both him and them and their city share the fate, as
they would have been sure to do, of Ahimelech and the city of Nob,--that
is, be utterly destroyed? But the men of Ziph were in no such dilemma.
Their treachery was simple meanness. They no doubt wished to ingratiate
themselves with Saul. They had no faith either in David, or in God's
promises regarding him. Disbelieving God, they acted inhumanly to man.
They let Saul know his best opportunity, and when he came on the spot,
apparently of a sudden, David and his troop were surrounded, and their
escape seemed to be cut off. Here was a strange commentary on the strong
assurance of Jonathan, "Saul my father shall not find thee." Has he not
found me, only to too good purpose? But man's extremity is God's
opportunity. When Saul seems ready to pounce on David, a messenger
arrives, "Haste thee, and come, for the Philistines have invaded the
land." The danger was imminent, and Saul could not afford to lose an
hour. And thus, on the very eve of seizing the prey he had been hunting
for years, he is compelled to let it go.

It is edifying to observe all the different ways in which the Divine
protection toward David had been shown, all the time that he had been
exposed to the hostility of Saul. First of all, when Saul spoke to his
servants and to Jonathan that they should kill David, Jonathan was
raised up to take his side, and by his friendly counsels, arrested for
the time the murderous purpose of Saul. Next, when Saul hurled a javelin
at David, a rapid movement saved his life. The third time, he was let
down through a window by his wife, in time to escape. The fourth time,
the messengers that were sent to apprehend him were filled with the
Spirit of God, and even Saul, determined to make up for their lack of
service, underwent the same transformation. The fifth time, when he was
in Keilah, he was supernaturally warned of the unkind treachery of the
men of Keilah, and thus escaped the snare. And now, a sixth escape is
effected, in the very article of death, so to speak, by a Philistine
invasion. Thus was illustrated that wonderful diversity of plan that
characterises the ways of God, that "variety in unity" which we may
trace alike in the kingdom of nature, of providence, and of grace. A
similar variety is seen in His deliverances of Israel. At one time the
sea is divided, at another the sun stands still; Gideon delivers by
lamps and pitchers, Shamgar by his ox-goad, Samson by the jawbone of an
ass, Jephthah by his military talents, David by his sling and stone,
Daniel by his skill in dreams, Esther by her beauty and power of
fascination. To remember such things ought to give you confidence in
times of perplexity and danger. If it be God's purpose to deliver you,
He has thousands of unseen methods, to any one of which He may resort,
when, to the eye of sense, there seems not the shadow of a hope. And one
reason why He seems at times to doom His children to inevitable ruin, is
that He may call their faith and their patience into higher exercise,
and teach them more impressively the sublime lesson--"Stand still, and
see the salvation of God."

The fifty-fourth Psalm bears an inscription that would refer it to this
occasion. There are some expressions in the psalm that hardly agree with
this reference; but the general situation is quite in keeping with it.
"Save me, O God," the Psalmist cries, "by Thy name, and judge me by Thy
strength." The danger from which he needs to be saved comes from
strangers that are risen up against him, and opposers that seek after
his soul; persons "that have not set God before them." To be saved by
God's _name_ is to be saved through attributes which are manifestly
Divine; to be judged by God's _strength_, is to be vindicated, to be
shown to be under God's favour and protection, by the manifest exercise
of His power. The petitions are such as David might well have made after
his conversation with Jonathan. The psalm is evidently the song of one
whose hand had been "strengthened in God." Its great central truth is,
"God is mine helper; the Lord is with them who (like Jonathan) uphold my
soul." And there comes after that a happy exercise of the spirit of
trust, enabling the Psalmist to say, "He hath delivered me out of all
trouble." This result is wonderful and beautiful. How remarkable that in
that wilderness of Judah, amid a life of hardship, exposure, and peril,
with a powerful king thirsting for his blood, and using his every device
to get hold of him, he should be able to say of God, "He hath delivered
me out of all trouble." It is the faith that removes mountains: it is
the faith that worked so wonderfully when the lad with the sling and
stones went out so bravely against the giant. What wonders cannot faith
perform when it gets clear of all the entanglements of carnal feeling,
and stands, firm and erect, on the promise of God! How infinitely would
such a faith relieve and sustain us in the common troubles and anxieties
of life, and in deeper perplexities connected with the cause of God!
Take this short clause as marking out the true quality and highest
attainment of simple faith, and resolve that you will not rest in your
own endeavours till your mind reaches the state of tranquillity which it
describes so simply,--"He hath delivered me out of all trouble."



CHAPTER XXXI.

_DAVID TWICE SPARES THE LIFE OF SAUL._

1 SAMUEL xxiv., xxvi.


The invasion of the Philistines had freed David from the fear of Saul
for a time, but only for a time. He knew full well that when the king of
Israel had once repelled that invasion he would return to prosecute the
object on which his heart was so much set. For a while he took refuge
among the rocks of Engedi, that beautiful spot of which we have already
spoken, and which has been embalmed in Holy Writ, as suggesting a fair
image of the Beloved One--"My beloved is unto me as a cluster of
camphire in the vineyards of Engedi" (Song of Solomon i. 14). The
mountains here and throughout the hill country of Judea are mostly of
limestone formation, abounding, like all such rocks, in caverns of large
size, in which lateral chambers run off at an angle from the main
cavity, admitting of course little or no light, but such that a person
inside, while himself unseen, may see what goes on at the entrance to
the cave. In the dark sides of such a cave, David and his men lay
concealed when Saul was observed by him to enter and lie down, probably
unattended, to enjoy the mid-day sleep which the heat of the climate
often demands. We cannot fail to remark the singular providence that
concealed from Saul at this time the position of David. He had good
information of his movements in general; the treacherous spirit which
was so prevalent, greatly aided him in this; but on the present
occasion, he was evidently in ignorance of his situation. If only he had
known, how easy it would have been for him with his three thousand
chosen men to blockade the cave, and starve David and his followers into
surrender!

The entrance of the king being noticed by David's men, they urged their
master to avail himself of the opportunity of getting rid of him which
was now so providentially and unexpectedly presented to him. We can
hardly think of a stronger temptation to do so than that under which
David now lay. In the first place, there was the prospect of getting rid
of the weary life he was leading,--more like the life of a wild beast
hunted by its enemies, than of a man eager to do good to his fellows,
with a keen relish for the pleasures of home and an extraordinary
delight in the services of God's house. Then there was the prospect of
wearing the crown and wielding the sceptre of Israel,--the splendours of
a royal palace, and its golden opportunities of doing good. Further,
there was the voice of his followers urging him to the deed, putting on
it a sacred character by ascribing to it a Divine permission and
appointment. And still further, there was the suddenness and
unexpectedness of the opportunity. Nothing is more critical than a
sudden opportunity of indulging an ardent passion; with scarcely a
moment for deliberation, one is apt to be hurried blindly along, and at
once to commit the deed. With all his noble nature, Robert the Bruce
could not refrain from plunging his dagger into the heart of the
treacherous Comyn, even in the convent of the Minorite friars. The
discipline of David's spirit must at this time have been admirable. Not
only did he restrain himself, but he restrained his followers too. He
would neither strike his heartless enemy, nor suffer another to strike
him. On the first of the two occasions of his sparing him--recorded in
the twenty-fourth chapter--he might naturally believe that his
forbearance would turn Saul's heart and end the unjust quarrel. On the
second occasion of the same sort--recorded in the twenty-sixth
chapter--he could have had no hope of the kind. It was a pure sense of
duty that restrained him. He acted in utter contempt of what was
personal and selfish, and in deepest reverence for what was holy and
Divine. How different from the common spirit of the world! Young people,
who are so ready to keep up a sense of wrong, and wait an opportunity of
paying back your schoolfellows, study this example of David. Ye grown
men, who could not get such-a-one to vote for you, or to support your
claim in your controversy, and who vowed that you would never rest till
you had driven him from the place, how does your spirit compare with
that of David? Ye statesmen, who have received an affront from some
barbarous people, utterly ignorant of your ways, and who forthwith issue
your orders for your ships of war to scatter destruction among their
miserable villages, terrifying, killing, mutilating, no matter how many
of the wretches that have no arms to meet you in fair fight--think of
the forbearance of David. And think too of many passages in the New
Testament that give the idea of another treatment and another species of
victory:--"Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst,
give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his
head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good."

The special consideration that held back the arm of David from killing
Saul was that he was the Lord's anointed. He held the office of king by
Divine appointment,--not merely as other kings may be regarded as
holding it, but as God's lieutenant, called specially, and selected for
the office. For David to remove him would be to interfere with the
Divine prerogative. It would be so much the more inexcusable as God had
many other ways of removing him, any one of which He might readily
employ. "David said furthermore, As the Lord liveth, the Lord shall
smite him; or his day shall come to die; or he shall descend into
battle, and perish. The Lord forbid that I should stretch forth mine
hand against the Lord's anointed."

Let us briefly follow the narrative on each of the two occasions.

First, when David saw Saul asleep at the entrance of the cave near
Engedi, he crept towards him as he lay, and removed a loose piece of his
garment. When Saul rose up and proceeded on his way, David boldly
followed him, believing that after sparing the king's life he was safe
from attack either from him or his people. His respectful salutation,
drawing the king's attention, was followed by an act of profound
obeisance. David then addressed Saul somewhat elaborately, his address
being wholly directed to the point of disabusing the king's mind of the
idea that he had any plot whatever against his life. His words were very
respectful but at the same time bold. Taking advantage of the act of
forbearance which had just occurred, he demanded of the king why he
listened to men's words, saying, Behold, David seeketh thy hurt. He
protested that for himself nothing would induce him to stretch forth his
hand against the Lord's anointed. That very day, he had had the chance,
but he had forborne. His people had urged him, but he would not comply.
_There_ was the skirt of his garment which he had just cut off: it would
have been as easy for him, when he did that, to plunge his sword into
the heart of the king. Could there be a plainer proof that Saul was
mistaken in supposing David to be actuated by murderous or other sinful
feelings against him? And yet Saul hunted for his life to take it.
Rising still higher, David appealed to the great Judge of all, and
placed the quarrel in His hands. To vary the case, he quoted a proverb
to the effect that only where there was wickedness in the heart could
wickedness be found in the life. Then, with the easy play of a versatile
mind, he put the case in a comical light: did it become the great king
of Israel to bring his hosts after one so insignificant--"after a dead
dog, after a flea"? Was ocean to be tossed into tempest "to waft a
feather or to drown a straw"? Once more, and to sum up the whole case,
he appealed solemnly to God, virtually invoking His blessing on whoever
was innocent in this quarrel, and calling down His wrath and destruction
on the party that was really guilty.

The effect on Saul was prompt and striking. He was touched in his
tenderest feelings by the singular generosity of his opponent. He broke
down thoroughly, welcomed the dear voice of David, "lifted up his voice
and wept." He confessed that he was wrong, that David had rewarded him
good and he had rewarded David evil. David had given him that day a
convincing proof of his integrity; though it seemed that the Lord had
delivered him into his hand, he killed him not. He had reversed the
principle on which men were accustomed to act when they came upon an
enemy, and had him in their power. And all these acknowledgments of
David's superior goodness Saul made, while knowing well and frankly
owning that David should be the king, and that the kingdom should be
established in his hand. One favour only Saul would beg of David in
reference to that coming time--that he would not massacre his family, or
destroy his name out of his father's house--a request which it was easy
for David to comply with. Never would he dream of such a thing, however
common it was in these Eastern kingdoms. David sware to Saul, and the
two parted in peace.

How glad David must have been that he acted as he did! Already his
forbearance has had a full reward. It has drawn out the very best
elements of Saul's soul; it has placed Saul in a light in which we can
think of him with interest, and even admiration. How can this be the man
that so meanly plotted for David's life when he sent him against the
Philistines? that gave him his daughter to be his wife in order that he
might have more opportunities to entangle him? that flung the murderous
javelin at his head? that massacred the priests and destroyed their city
simply because they had shown him kindness? Saul is indeed a riddle, all
the more that this generous fit lasted but a very short time; and soon
after, when the treacherous Ziphites undertook to betray David, Saul and
his soldiers came again to the wilderness to destroy him.

It has been thought by some, and with reason, that something more than
the varying humour of Saul is necessary to account for his persistent
efforts to kill David. And it is believed that a clue to this is
supplied by expressions of which David made much use, and by certain
references in the Psalms, which imply that to a great extent he was the
victim of calumny, and of calumny of a very malignant and persistent
kind. In the address on which we have commented David began by asking
why Saul _listened to men's words_, saying, Behold, David seeketh thy
life? And in the address recorded in the twenty-sixth chapter (ver. 19)
David says very bitterly, "If they be the children of men that have
stirred thee up against me, cursed be they before the Lord; for they
have driven me out this day from abiding in the inheritance of the Lord,
saying, Go, serve other gods." Turning to the seventh Psalm, we find in
it a vehement and passionate appeal to God in connection with the bitter
and murderous fury of an enemy, who is said in the superscription to
have been Cush the Benjamite. The fury of that man against David was
extraordinary. Deliver me, O Lord, "lest he tear my soul like a lion,
rending it in pieces when there is none to deliver." It is plain that
the form of calumny which this man indulged in was accusing David of
"rewarding evil to him that was at peace with him," an accusation not
only not true, but outrageously contrary to the truth, seeing he had
"delivered him that without cause was his enemy." It is not unlikely
therefore that at Saul's court David had an enemy who had the bitterest
enmity to him, who never ceased to poison Saul's mind regarding him, who
put facts in the most offensive light, and even after the first act of
David's generosity to Saul not only continued, but continued more
ferociously than ever to inflame Saul's mind, and urge him to get rid of
this intolerable nuisance. What could have inspired Cush, or indeed any
one, with such a hatred to David we cannot definitely say; much of it
was due to that instinctive hatred of holy character which worldly men
of strong will show in every age, and perhaps not a little to the
apprehension that if David did ever come to the throne, many a wicked
man, now fattening on the spoils of the kingdom through the favour of
Saul, would be stript of his wealth and consigned to obscurity.

It would seem, then, that had Saul been left alone he would have left
David alone. It was the bitter and incessant plotting of David's enemies
that stirred him up. Jealousy was only too active a feeling in his
breast, and it was easy to work upon it, and fill him with the idea
that, after all, David was a rebel and a traitor. These things David
must have known; knowing them, he made allowance for them, and did not
suffer his heart to become altogether cold to Saul. The kindly feelings
which Saul expressed when he dismissed from his view all the calumnies
with which he had been poisoned, and looked straight at David, made a
deep impression on his rival, and the fruit of them appeared in that
beautiful elegy on Saul and Jonathan, which must seem a piece of
hypocrisy if the facts we have stated be not kept in view: "Saul and
Jonathan were pleasant and lovely in their lives, and in their death
they were not divided."

In the second incident, recorded in the twenty-sixth chapter, when David
again spared the life of Saul, not much more needs to be said. Some
critics would hold it to be the same incident recorded by another hand
in some earlier document consulted by the writer of 1 Samuel, containing
certain variations such as might take place at the hand of a different
historian. But let us observe the differences of the two chapters. (1)
The scene is different; in the one case it is near Engedi, in the other
in the wilderness, near the hill Hachilah, which is before Jeshimon.
(2) The place where Saul was asleep is different; in the one case a
cave; in the other case a camp, protected by a trench. (3) The trophy
carried off by David was different; in the one case the skirt of his
garment, in the other a spear and cruse of water. (4) The position of
David when he made himself known was different; in the one case he went
out of the cave and called after Saul; in the other he crossed a gully
and spoke from the top of a crag. (5) His way of attracting attention
was different; in the one case he spoke directly to Saul, in the other
he rallied Abner, captain of the host, for failing to protect the person
of the king. But we need not proceed further with this list of
differences. Those we have adverted to are enough to repel the assertion
that there were not two separate incidents of the same kind. And surely
if the author was a mere compiler, using different documents, he might
have known if the incidents were the same. If it be said that we cannot
believe that two events so similar could have happened, that this is too
improbable to be believed, we may answer by referring to similar cases
in the Gospels, or even in common life. Suppose a historian of the
American civil war to describe what took place at Bull Run. First he
gives an account of a battle there between the northern and southern
armies, some incidents of which he describes. By-and-bye he again speaks
of a battle there, but the incidents he gives are quite different. Our
modern critics would say it was all one event, but that the historian,
having consulted two accounts, had clumsily written as if there had been
two battles. We know that this fancy of criticism is baseless. In the
American civil war there were two battles of Bull Run between the same
contending parties at different times. So we may safely believe that
there were two instances of David's forbearance to Saul, one in the
neighbourhood of Engedi, the other in the neighbourhood of Ziph.

And all that needs to be said further respecting the second act of
forbearance by David is that it shines forth all the brighter because it
was the second, and because it happened so soon after the other. We may
see that David did not put much trust in Saul's profession the first
time, for he did not disband his troop, but remained in the wilderness
as before. It is quite possible that this displeased Saul. It is also
possible that that inveterate false accuser of David from whom he
suffered so much would make a great deal of this to Saul, and would
represent to him strongly that if David really was the innocent man he
claimed to be, after receiving the assurance he got from him he would
have sent his followers to their homes, and returned in peace to his
own. That he did nothing of the kind may have exasperated Saul, and
induced him to change his policy, and again take steps to secure David,
as before. Substantially, David's remonstrance with Saul on this second
occasion was the same as on the first. But at this time he gave proof of
a power of sarcasm which he had not shown before. He rated Abner on the
looseness of the watch he kept of his royal master, and adjudged him
worthy of death for not making it impossible for any one to come
unobserved so near the king, and have him so completely in his power.
The apology of Saul was substantially the same as before; but how could
it have been different? The acknowledgment of what was to happen to
David was hardly so ample as on the last occasion. David doubtless
parted from Saul with the old conviction that kindness was not wanting
in his personal feelings, but that the evil influences that were around
him, and the fits of disorder to which his mind was subject, might
change his spirit in a single hour from that of generous benediction to
that of implacable jealousy.

But now to draw to a close. We have adverted to that high reverence for
God which was the means of restraining David from lifting up his hand
against Saul, because he was the Lord's anointed. Let us now notice more
particularly what an admirable spirit of self-restraint and patience
David showed in being willing to bear all the risk and pain of a most
distressing position, until it should please God to bring to him the
hour of deliverance. The grace we specially commend is that of waiting
for God's time. Alas! into how many sins, and even crimes, have men been
betrayed through unwillingness to wait for God's time! A young man
embarks in the pursuits of commerce; but the gains to be derived from
ordinary business come in far too slowly for him; he makes haste to be
rich, engages in gigantic speculation, plunges into frightful gambling,
and in a few years brings ruin on himself and all connected with him.
How many sharp and unhandsome transactions continually occur just
because men are impatient, and wish to hurry on some consummation which
their hearts are set on! Nay, have not murders often taken place just to
hasten the removal of some who occupied places that others were eager to
fill? And how often are evil things done by those who will not wait for
the sanction of honourable marriage?

But even where no act of crime has been committed, impatience of God's
time may give rise to many an evil feeling that does not go beyond one's
own breast. Many a son who will succeed to an inheritance on the death
of his father, or of some other relative, is tempted to wish, more or
less consciously, for an event the last to be desired by a filial heart.
You may say, it is human nature; how could any one help it? The example
of David shows how one may help it. The heart that is profoundly
impressed with the excellence of the Divine will, and the duty and
privilege of loyally accepting all His arrangements, can never desire to
anticipate that will in any matter, great or small. For how can any good
come in the end from forcing forward arrangements out of the Divine
order? If, for the moment, this brings any advantage in one direction,
it is sure to be followed by far greater evils in another. Do we all
realize the full import of our prayer when we say, "Thy will be done on
earth as it is in heaven"? Of one thing you may be very sure, there is
no impatience in heaven for a speedier fulfilment of desirable events
than the will of God has ordained. There is no desire to force on the
wheels of Providence if they do not seem to be moving fast enough. So
let it be with us. Let us fix it as a first principle in our minds, as
an immovable rule of our lives, that as God knows best how to order His
providence, so any interference with Him is rash and perilous, and
wicked too; and with reference both to events which are not lawfully in
our hands, and the time at which they are to happen, let us realize it
as alike our duty and our interest to say to God, in the spirit of full
and unreserved trust--"Not our will, but Thine be done."



CHAPTER XXXII.

_DAVID AND NABAL._

1 SAMUEL xxv.


We should be forming far too low an estimate of the character of the
people of Israel if we did not believe that they were very profoundly
moved by the death of Samuel. Even admitting that but a small proportion
of them are likely to have been in warm sympathy with his ardent
godliness, he was too remarkable a man, and he had been too conspicuous
a figure in the history of the nation, not to be greatly missed, and
much spoken of and thought of, when he passed away.

Cast in the same mould with their great leader and legislator Moses, he
exerted an influence on the nation only second to that which stood
connected with the prophet of the Exodus. He had not been associated
with such stirring events in their history as Moses; neither had it been
his function to reveal to them the will of God, either so
systematically, or so comprehensively, or so supernaturally; but he was
marked by the same great spirituality, the same intense reverence for
the God of Israel, the same profound belief in the reality of the
covenant between Israel and God, and the same conviction of the
inseparable connection between a pure worship and flowing prosperity on
the one hand, and idolatrous defection and national calamity on the
other.

No man except Moses had ever done more to rivet this truth on the minds
and hearts of the people. It was the lifelong aim and effort of Samuel
to show that it made the greatest difference to them in every way how
they acted toward God, in the way of worship, trust, and obedience. He
made incessant war on that cold worldly spirit, so natural to us all,
that leaves God out of account as a force in our lives, and strives to
advance our interests simply by making the most of the conditions of
material prosperity.

No doubt with many minds the name of Samuel would be associated with a
severity and a spirituality and a want of worldliness that were
repulsive to them, as indicating one who carried the matter, to use a
common phrase, too far. But at Samuel's death even these men might be
visited with a somewhat remorseful conviction that, if Samuel had gone
too far, they had not gone half far enough. There might come from the
retrospect of his career a wholesome rebuke to their worldliness and
neglect of God; for surely, they would feel, if there be a God, we ought
to worship Him, and it cannot be well for us to neglect Him altogether.

On the other hand, the career of Samuel would be recalled with intense
admiration and gratitude by all the more earnest of the people. What an
impressive witness for all that was good and holy had they not had among
them! What a living temple, what a Divine epistle, written not in tables
of stone, but in fleshy tables of the heart! What glory and honour had
not that man's life been to the nation,--so uniform, so consistent, so
high in tone! What a reproof it carried to low and selfish living, what
a splendid example it afforded to old and young of the true way and end
of life, and what a blessed impulse it was fitted to give them in the
same direction, showing so clearly "what is good, and what doth the Lord
require of thee but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly
with thy God."

By a remarkable connection, though perhaps not by design, two names are
brought together in this chapter representing very opposite phases of
human character--Samuel and Nabal. In Samuel we have the high-minded
servant of God, trained from infancy to smother his own will and pay
unbounded regard to the will of his Father in heaven; in Nabal we see
the votary of the god of this world, enslaved to his worldly lusts,
grumbling and growling when he is compelled to submit to the will of
God. Samuel is the picture of the serene and holy believer, enjoying
unseen fellowship with God, and finding in that fellowship a blessed
balm for the griefs and trials of a wounded spirit; Nabal is the picture
of the rich but wretched worldling who cannot even enjoy the bounties of
his lot, and is thrown into such a panic by the mere dread of losing
them that he actually sinks into the grave. Under the one picture we
would place the words of the Apostle in the third chapter of
Philippians--"Whose god is their belly, whose glory is in their shame,
who mind earthly things;" under the other the immediately following
words, "Our conversation is in heaven." Such were the two men to whom
the summons to appear before God was sent about the same time; the one
ripe for glory, the other meet for destruction; the one removed to
Abraham's bosom, the other to the pit of woe; each to the master whom he
served, and each to the element in which he had lived. Look on this
picture and on that, and say which you would be like. And as you look
remember how true it is that as men sow so do they reap. The one sowed
to the flesh, and of the flesh he reaped corruption; the other sowed to
the Spirit, and of the Spirit he reaped life everlasting. The continuity
of men's lives in the world to come gives an awful solemnity to that
portion of their lives which they spend on earth:--"He that is unjust,
let him be unjust still: and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still:
and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still: and he that is
holy, let him be holy still."

There is another lesson to be gathered from a matter of external order
before we proceed to the particulars of the narrative. This chapter,
recording David's collision with Nabal, and showing us how David lost
his temper, and became hot and impetuous and impatient in consequence of
Nabal's treatment, comes in between the narrative of his two great
victories over the spirit of revenge and impatience. It gives us a very
emphatic lesson--how the servant of God may conquer in a great fight and
yet be beaten in a small. The history of all spiritual warfare is full
of such cases. In the presence of a great enemy, the utmost vigilance is
maintained; every effort is strained, every stimulus is applied. In the
presence of a small foe, the spirit of confidence, the sense of
security, is liable to leave every avenue unguarded, and to pave the way
for signal defeat. When I am confronted with a great trial, I rally all
my resources to bear it, I realize the presence of God, I say, "Thou God
seest me"; but when it is a little trial, I am apt to meet it unarmed
and unguarded, and I experience a humiliating fall. Thus it is that men
who have in them the spirit of martyrs, and who would brave a dungeon
or death itself rather than renounce a testimony or falter in a duty,
often suffer defeat under the most ordinary temptations of everyday
life,--they lose their temper on the most trifling provocations; almost
without a figure, they are "crushed before the moth."

Whether the death of Samuel brought such a truce to David as to allow
him to join in the great national gathering at his funeral we do not
know with certainty; but immediately after we find him in a region
called "the wilderness of Paran," in the neighbourhood of the Judean
Carmel. It was here that Nabal dwelt. This Carmel is not to be
confounded with the famous promontory of that name in the tribe of
Asher, where Elijah and the priests of Baal afterwards had their
celebrated contest; it was a hill in the tribe of Judah, in the
neighbourhood of the place where David had his encampment. A descendant
of the lion-hearted Judah and of the courageous Caleb, this Nabal came
of a noble stock; but cursed with a narrow heart, a senseless head, and
a grovelling nature, he fell as far below average humanity as his great
ancestors had risen above it. With all his wealth and family connection,
he appears to us now as poor a creature as ever lived,--a sort of
"golden beast," as was said of the Emperor Caligula; and we cannot think
of him without reflecting how little true glory or greatness mere wealth
or worldly position confers,--how infinitely more worthy of honour are
the sterling qualities of a generous Christian heart. It is plain that
in an equitable point of view Nabal owed much to David; but what he owed
could not be enforced by an action at law, and Nabal was one of those
poor creatures that acknowledge no other obligation.

The studied courtesy and modesty with which David preferred his claim is
interesting; it could not but be against the grain to say anything on
the subject; if Nabal had not had his "understanding blinded" he would
have spared him this pain; the generous heart is ever thinking of the
services that others are rendering, and will never subject modesty to
the pain of urging its own. "Ye shall greet him in my name," said David
to his messengers; "and thus shall ye say to him that liveth in
prosperity, Peace be both to thee, and peace to thy house, and peace be
to all that thou hast" No envying of his prosperity--no grudging to him
his abundance; but only the Christian wish that he might have God's
blessing with it, and that it might all turn to good. It was the time of
sheep-shearing, when the flocks were probably counted and the increase
over last year ascertained; and by a fine old custom it was commonly the
season of liberality and kindness. A time of increase should always be
so; it is the time for helping poor relations (a duty often strangely
overlooked), for acknowledging ancient kindnesses, for relieving
distress, and for devising liberal things for the Church of Christ.
David gently reminded Nabal that he had come at this good time; then he
hinted at the services which he and his followers had done him; but to
show that he did not wish to press hard on him, he merely asked him to
give what might come to his hand; though, as the anointed king of
Israel, he might have assumed a more commanding title, he asked him to
give it to "thy son, David." So modest, gentle, and affectionate an
application, savouring so little of the persecuted, distracted outlaw,
savouring so much of the mild self-possessed Christian
gentleman,--deserved treatment very different from what it received.
The detestable niggardliness of Nabal's heart would not suffer him to
part with anything which he could find an excuse for retaining. But
greed so excessive, even in its own eyes, must find some cloak to cover
it; and one of the most common and most congenial to flinty hearts
is--the unworthiness of the applicant. The miser is not content in
simply refusing an application for the poor, he must add some abusive
charge to conceal his covetousness--they are lazy, improvident,
intemperate; or if it be a Christian object he is asked to
support,--these unreasonable people are always asking. Any excuse rather
than tell the naked truth, "We worship our money; and when we spend it,
we spend it on ourselves." Such was Nabal. "Who is David? and who is the
son of Jesse? There be many servants now-a-days that break away every
man from his master. Shall I then take _my_ bread, and _my_ water, and
_my_ flesh that I have killed for _my_ shearers, and give it unto men,
that I know not whence they be?"

As often happens, excessive selfishness overreached itself. Insult added
to injury was more than David chose to bear; for once, he lost
self-command, and was borne along by impetuous passion. Meek men, when
once their temper is roused, usually go to great extremes. And if
David's purpose had not been providentially arrested, Nabal and all that
belonged to him would have been swept before morning to destruction.

With the quickness and instinctive certainty of a clever woman's
judgment, Abigail, Nabal's wife, saw at once how things were going. With
more than the calmness and self-possession of many a clever woman, she
arranged and despatched the remedy almost instantaneously after the
infliction of the wrong. How so superior a woman could have got yoked
to so worthless a man we can scarcely conjecture, unless on the vulgar
and too common supposition that the churl's wealth and family had
something to do with the match. No doubt she had had her punishment. But
luxury had not impaired the energy of her spirit, and wealth had not
destroyed the regularity of her habits. Her promptness and her prudence
all must admire, her commissariat skill was wonderful in its way; and
the exquisite tact and cleverness with which she showed and checked the
intended crime of David--all the while seeming to pay him a
compliment--could not have been surpassed. "Now therefore, my lord, as
the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, seeing the Lord _hath
withholden thee_ from coming to shed blood, and from avenging thyself
with thine own hand, now let thine enemies and they that seek evil to my
lord be as Nabal." But the most remarkable of all her qualities is her
faith; it reminds us of the faith of Rahab of Jericho, or of the faith
of Jonathan; she had the firm persuasion that David was owned of God,
that he was to be the king of Israel, and that all the devices men might
use against him would fail; and she addressed him--poor outlaw though he
was--as one of whose elevation to sovereign power, after what God had
spoken, there could not be the shadow of a doubt. Her liberality, too,
was very great. And there was a truthful, honest tone about her. Perhaps
she spoke even too plainly of her husband, but the occasion admitted of
no sort of apology for him; there was no deceit about her, and as little
flattery. Her words had a wholesome honest air, and some of her
expressions were singularly happy. When she spoke of the soul of my lord
as "bound in the bundle of life with the Lord thy God," she seemed to
anticipate the very language in which the New Testament describes the
union of Christ and His people, "Your life is hid with Christ in God."
She had a clear conception of the "sure mercies of David," certainly in
the literal, and we may hope also in the spiritual sense.

The revengeful purpose and rash vow of David were not the result of
deliberate consideration; they were formed under the influence of
excitement,--most unlike the solemn and prayerful manner in which the
expedition at Keilah had been undertaken. God unacknowledged had left
David to misdirected paths. But if we blame David, as we must, for his
heedless passion, we must not less admire the readiness with which he
listens to the reasonable and pious counsel of Abigail. With the ready
instinct of a gracious heart he recognises the hand of God in Abigail's
coming,--this mercy had a heavenly origin; and cordially praises Him for
His restraining providence and restraining grace. He candidly admits
that he had formed a very sinful purpose; but he frankly abandons it,
accepts her offering, and sends her away in peace. "Blessed be the Lord
God of Israel, which sent thee this day to me; and blessed be thy
advice, and blessed be thou which hast kept me this day from coming to
shed blood, and from avenging myself with mine own hand." It is a mark
of sincere and genuine godliness to be not less thankful for being kept
from sinning than from being rescued from suffering.

And it was not long before David had convincing proof that it is best to
leave vengeance in the hands of God. "It came to pass, about ten days
after, that the Lord smote Nabal that he died." Having abandoned himself
at his feast to the beastliest sensuality, his nervous system underwent
a depression corresponding to the excitement that had accompanied the
debauch. In this miserable state of collapse and weakness, the news of
what had happened gave him a fright from which he never recovered. A few
days of misery, and this wretched man went to his own place, there to
join the great crowd of selfish and godless men who said to God, "Depart
from us," and to whom God will but echo their own wish--"Depart from
Me!"

When David heard of his death, his satisfaction at the manifest
interposition of God on his behalf, and his thankfulness for having been
enabled to conquer his impetuosity, overcame for the time every other
consideration. Full of this view, he blessed God for Nabal's death,
rejoicing over his untimely end more perhaps than was altogether
becoming. We, at least, should have liked to see David dropping a tear
over the grave of one who had lived without grace and who died without
comfort. Perhaps, however, we are unable to sympathize with the
earnestness of the feeling produced by God's visible vindication of him;
a feeling that would be all the more fervent, because what had happened
to Nabal must have been viewed as a type of what was sure to happen to
Saul. In the death of Nabal, David by faith saw the destruction of all
his enemies--no wonder though his spirit was lifted up at the sight.

If it were not for a single expression, we should, without hesitation,
set down the thirty-seventh Psalm as written at this period. The
twenty-fifth verse seems to connect it with a later period; even then it
seems quite certain that, when David wrote it, the case of Nabal (among
other cases perhaps) was full in his view. The great fact in providence
on which the psalm turns is the sure and speedy destruction of the
wicked; and the great lesson of the psalm to God's servants is not to
fret because of their prosperity, but to rest patiently on the Lord, who
will cause the meek to inherit the earth. Many of the minor expressions
and remarks, too, are quite in harmony with this occasion: "Trust in the
Lord and do good, so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily _thou
shalt be fed_." "Cease from _anger_, and forsake _wrath_; fret not
thyself in any wise to do evil." "The _meek_ shall inherit the earth."
"The mouth of the righteous speaketh _wisdom_,"--unlike Nabal, a fool by
name and a fool by nature. The great duty enforced is that of waiting on
the Lord; not merely because it is right in itself to do so, but because
"He shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light and thy judgment as
the noonday."

The chapter ends with Abigail's marriage to David. We are told, at the
same time, that he had another wife, Ahinoam the Jezreelite, and that
Michal, Saul's daughter, had been taken from him, and given to another.
These statements cannot but grate upon our ear, indicating a laxity in
matrimonial relations very far removed from our modern standard alike of
duty and of delicacy. We cannot acquit David of a want of patience and
self-restraint in these matters; undoubtedly it is a blot in his
character, and it is a blot that led to very serious results. It was an
element of coarseness in a nature that in most things was highly
refined. David missed the true ideal of family life, the true ideal of
love, the true ideal of purity. His polygamy was not indeed imputed to
him as a crime; it was tolerated in him, as it had been tolerated in
Jacob and in others; but its natural and indeed almost necessary effects
were not obviated. In his family it bred strife, animosity, division;
it bred fearful crimes among brothers and sisters; while, in his own
case, his unsubdued animalism stained his conscience with the deepest
sins, and rent his heart with terrible sorrows. How dangerous is even
one vulnerable spot--one unsubdued lust of evil! The fable represented
that the heel of Achilles, the only vulnerable part of his body, because
his mother held him by it when she dipped him in the Styx, was the spot
on which he received his fatal wound. It was through an unmortified lust
of the flesh that nearly all David's sorrows came. How emphatic in this
view the prayer of the Apostle--"I pray God that your whole spirit and
soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of the Lord." And
how necessary and appropriate the exhortation, "Put on the _whole_
armour of God"--girdle, breastplate, sandals, helmet, sword--all; leave
no part unprotected, "that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day,
and having done all to stand."

Thus, then, it appears, that for all that was beautiful in David he was
not a perfect character, and not without stains that seriously affected
the integrity and consistency of his life. In that most important part
of a young man's duty--to obtain full command of himself, yield to no
unlawful bodily indulgence, and do nothing that, directly or indirectly,
can tend to lower the character or impair the delicacy of women,--David,
instead of an example, is a beacon. Greatly though his early trials were
blessed in most things, they were not blessed in all things. We must
not, for this reason, turn from him as some do, with scorn. We are to
admire and imitate the qualities that were so fine, especially in early
life. Would that many of us were like him in his tenderness, his
godliness, and his attachment to his people! His name is one of the
embalmed names of Holy Writ,--all the more that when he did become
conscious of his sin, no man ever repented more bitterly; and no man's
spirit, when bruised and broken, ever sent more of the fragrance as "of
myrrh and aloes and cassia out of the ivory palaces."



CHAPTER XXXIII.

_DAVID'S SECOND FLIGHT TO GATH._

1 SAMUEL xxvii.; xxviii. 1, 2; xxix.


We are not prepared for the sad decline in the spirit of trust which is
recorded in the beginning of the twenty-seventh chapter. The victory
gained by David over the carnal spirit of revenge, shown so signally in
his sparing the life of Saul a second time, would have led us to expect
that he would never again fall under the influence of carnal fear. But
there are strange ebbs and flows in the spiritual life, and sometimes a
victory brings its dangers, as well as its glory. Perhaps this very
conquest excited in David the spirit of self-confidence; he may have had
less sense of his need of daily strength from above; and he may have
fallen into the state of mind against which the Apostle warns us, "Let
him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall."

In his collision with Nabal we saw him fail in what seemed one of his
strong points--the very spirit of self-control which he had exercised so
remarkably toward Saul; and now we see him fail in another of his strong
points--the spirit of trust toward God. Could anything show more clearly
that even the most eminent graces of the saints spring from no native
fountain of goodness within them, but depend on the continuance of their
vital fellowship with Him of whom the Psalmist said, "All my springs
are in Thee"? (Psalm lxxxvii. 7). Carelessness and prayerlessness
interrupt that fellowship; the supply of daily strength ceases to come;
temptation arises, and they become weak like other men. "_Abide_ in Me,"
said our Lord, with special emphasis on the need of permanence in the
relation; and the prophet says, "They that wait on the Lord," as a
habitual exercise, "shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with
wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk
and not faint."

The most strange thing about David's new decline is, that it led him to
try a device which he had tried before, and which had proved a great
failure. We see him retreating before an enemy he had often conquered;
retreating, too, by a path every foot of which he had traversed, and
with whose bitter ending he was already familiar. Just as before, his
declension begins with distrust; and just as before, dissimulation is
the product of the distrustful spirit. He is brought into the most
painful dilemma, and into experience of the most grievous disaster; but
God, in His infinite mercy, extricates him from the one and enables him
to retrieve the other. It is affliction that brings him to his senses
and drives him to God; it is the returning spirit of prayer and trust
that sustains him in his difficulties, and at last brings to him, from
the hand of God, a merciful deliverance from them all.

Our first point of interest is the growth and manifestation of the
spirit of distrust. "David said in his heart, I shall now perish one day
by the hand of Saul; there is nothing better for me than that I should
speedily escape into the land of the Philistines." We find it difficult
to account for the sudden triumph of this very despondent feeling. It
is hardly enough to say that David could have had no confidence in
Saul's expressions of regret and declared purposes of amendment. That
was no new feature of the case. Perhaps one element of the explanation
may be, that Saul, with his three thousand men, had not only become
familiar with all David's hiding-places, but had stationed troops in
various parts of the district that would so hamper his movements as to
hem him in as in a prison. Then also there may have been some new
outbreak of the malignant fury of Cush the Benjamite, and other enemies
who were about Saul, rousing the king to even more earnest efforts than
ever to apprehend him. There is yet another circumstance in David's
situation, that has not, we think, obtained the notice it deserves, but
which may have had a very material influence on his decision. David had
now two wives with him, Abigail the widow of Nabal, and Ahinoam the
Jezreelitess. He would naturally be desirous to provide them with the
comforts of a settled home. A band of young men might put up with the
risks and discomforts of a roaming life, which it would not be possible
for women to bear. The rougher sex might think nothing of midnight
removals, and attacks in the dark, and scampers over wild passes and
rugged mountains at all hours of the day and night, and snatches of food
at irregular times, and all the other experiences which David and his
men had borne patiently and cheerfully in the earlier stages of their
outlaw history. But for women this was unsuitable. It is true that this
alone would not have led David to say, "I shall one day perish by the
hand of Saul." But it would increase his sense of difficulty; it would
make him feel more keenly the embarrassments of his situation; it would
help to overwhelm him. And when he was thus at his wit's end, the sense
of danger from Saul would become more and more serious. The tension of a
mind thus pressed on every side is something terrible. Pressed and
tortured by invincible difficulties, David gives way to despair--"I
shall one day perish by the hand of Saul."

Let us observe the manner in which this feeling grew to such strength as
to give rise to a new line of conduct. It got entrance into _his heart_.
It hovered about him in a somewhat loose form, before he took hold of
it, and resolved to act upon it. It approached him in the same manner in
which temptation approaches many a one, first presenting itself to the
imagination and the feelings, trying to get hold of them, and then
getting possession of the will, and turning the whole man in the desired
direction. Like a skilful adversary who first attacks an outpost,
apparently of little value, but when he has got it erects on it a
battery by which he is able to conquer a nearer position, and thus
gradually approaches, till at last the very citadel is in his hands,--so
sin at first hovers about the outposts of the soul. Often it seems at
first just to play with the imagination; one fancies this thing and the
other, this sensual indulgence or that act of dishonesty; and then,
having become familiar with it there, one admits it to the inner
chambers of the soul, and ere long the lust bringeth forth sin. The
lesson not to let sin play even with the imagination, but drive it
thence the moment one becomes conscious of its presence, cannot be
pressed too strongly. Have you ever studied the language of the Lord's
Prayer?--"Lead us not _into_ temptation." You are being led into
temptation whenever you are led to think, with interest and half
longing, of any sinful indulgence. Wisdom demands of you that the
moment you are conscious of such a feeling you resolutely exclaim, "Get
thee behind me, Satan!" It is the tempter trying to establish a foothold
in the outworks, meaning, when he has done so, to advance nearer and
nearer to the citadel, till at last you shall find him in strong
possession, and your soul entangled in the meshes of perdition.

The conclusion to which David came, under the influence of distrust, as
to the best course for him to follow shows what opposite decisions may
be arrived at, according to the point of view at which men take their
stand. "There is nothing better for me than that I should escape
speedily into the land of the Philistines." From a more correct point of
view, nothing could have been worse. Had Moses thought of his prospects
from the same position, he would have said, "There is nothing better for
me than to remain the son of Pharaoh's daughter, and enjoy all the good
things to which Providence has so remarkably called me;" but standing on
the ground of faith, his conclusion was precisely the opposite. Looking
abroad over the world with the eye of sense, the young man may say,
"There is nothing better for me than that I should rejoice in my youth,
and that my heart should cheer me in the days of my youth, and that I
should walk in the ways of mine heart and in the sight of mine eyes."
But the eye of faith sees ominous clouds and gathering storms in the
distance, which show that there could be nothing worse.

As usual, David's error was connected with the omission of prayer. We
find no clause in this chapter, "Bring hither the ephod." He asked no
counsel of God; he did not even sit down to deliberate calmly on the
matter. The impulse to which he yielded required him to decide at once.
The word "speedily" indicates the presence of panic, the action of a
tumultuous force on his mind, inducing him to act as promptly as one
does in raising one's arm to ward off a threatened blow. Possibly he had
the feeling that, if God's mind were consulted, it would be contrary to
his desire, and on that ground, like too many persons, he may have
shrunk from honest prayer. How different from the spirit of the
psalm--"Show me Thy ways, O Lord, teach me Thy paths; lead me in Thy
truth and teach me, for Thou art the God of my salvation; on Thee do I
wait all the day." Dost thou imagine, David, that the Lord's arm is
shortened that it cannot save, and His ear heavy that it cannot hear?
Would not He who delivered you in six troubles cause that in seven no
evil should touch thee? Has He not promised that thou shalt be hid from
the scourge of the tongue, neither shalt thou be afraid of destruction
when it cometh? Dost thou not know that thy seed shall be great and
thine offspring as the grass of the earth? Thou shalt come to thy grave
in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in in his season.

So "David arose, and he passed over with the six hundred men that were
with him, unto Achish the son of Maoch, king of Gath." It is thought by
some that this was a different king from the former, the name Achish
like the name Pharaoh being used by all the kings. At first the
arrangement seemed to succeed. Achish appears to have received him
kindly. "David dwelt with Achish at Gath, he and his men, every man with
his household, even David with his two wives." The emphasis laid on the
household and the wives shows how difficult it had been to provide for
them before. And Saul, at last, gave up the chase, and sought for him no
more. Of course, in giving him a friendly reception, Achish must have
had a view to his own interest. He would calculate on making use of him
in his battles with Saul, and very probably give an incredulous smile if
he heard anything of the scruples he had shown to lift up his hand
against the Lord's anointed.

Availing himself of the favourable impression made on Achish, David now
begs to have a country town allotted to him as his residence, so as to
avoid what appeared the unseemliness of his dwelling in the royal city
with him. There was much common sense in the demand, and Achish could
not but feel it. Gath was but a little place, and Achish, if he was but
lord of Gath, was not a very powerful king. The presence in such a place
of a foreign prince, with a retinue of soldiers six hundred strong, was
hardly becoming. Possibly Achish's own body guard did not come up in
number and in prowess to the troop of David. The request for a separate
residence was therefore granted readily, and Ziklag was assigned to
David. It lay near the southern border of the Philistines, close to the
southern desert. At Ziklag he was away from the eye of the lords of the
Philistines that had always viewed him with such jealousy; he was far
away from the still greater jealousy of Saul; and with Geshurites, and
Gezrites, and Amalekites in his neighbourhood, the natural enemies of
his country, he had opportunities of using his troop so as at once to
improve their discipline and promote the welfare of his native land.

There was another favourable occurrence in David's experience at this
time. From a parallel passage (1 Chron. xii.) we learn that during his
residence among the Philistines he was constantly receiving important
accessions to his troop. One set of men who came to him, Benjamites, of
the tribe of Saul, were remarkably skilful in the use of the bow and the
sling, able to use either right hand or left with equal ease. The men
that came to him were not from one tribe only, but from many. A very
important section were from Benjamin and Judah. At first David seemed to
have some suspicion of their sincerity. Going out to meet them he said
to them, "If ye be come peaceably to me to help me, my heart shall be
knit unto you; but if ye be come to betray me to my enemies, seeing
there is no wrong in my hands, the God of our fathers look thereon and
rebuke it." The answer was given by Amasai, in the spirit and rhythmical
language of prophecy: "Thine are we, David, and on thy side, thou son of
Jesse; peace, peace be unto thee, and peace be to thine helpers; for thy
God helpeth thee." Thus he was continually receiving evidence of the
favour in which he was held by his people, and his band was continually
increasing, "until it was a great host, like the host of God." It
seemed, up to this point, as if Providence had favoured his removal to
the land of the Philistines, and brought to him the security and the
prosperity which he could not find in the land of Judah. But it was
ill-gained security and only mock-prosperity; the day of his troubles
drew on.

The use which, as we have seen, he made of his troop was to invade the
Geshurites, the Gezrites, and the Amalekites. In taking this step David
had a sinister purpose. It would not have been so agreeable to the
Philistines to learn that the arms of David had been turned against
these tribes as against his own countrymen. When therefore he was asked
by Achish where he had gone that day, he returned an answer fitted, and
indeed intended, to deceive. Without saying in words, "I have been
fighting against my own people in the south of Judah," he led Achish to
believe that he had, and he was pleased when his words were taken in
that sense. Achish, we are told, believed David, believed that he had
been in arms against his countrymen. "He hath made his people Israel
utterly to abhor him; therefore he shall be my servant for ever." Could
there have been a more lamentable spectacle? one of the noblest of men
stained by the meanness of a false insinuation; David, the anointed of
the God of Israel, ranged with the common herd of liars!

Nor was this the only error into which his crooked policy now led him.
To cover his deceitful course he had recourse to an act of terrible
carnage. It was deemed by him important that no one should be able to
carry to Achish a faithful report of what he had been doing. To prevent
this he made a complete massacre, put to death every man, woman, child
of the Amalekites and other tribes whom he now attacked. Such massacres
were indeed quite common in Eastern warfare. The Bulgarian and other
massacres of which we have heard in our own day show that even yet,
after an interval of nearly three thousand years, they are not foreign
to the practice of Eastern nations. In point of fact, they were not
thought more of, or worse of, than any of the other incidents of war.
War was held to bind up into one bundle the whole lives and property of
the enemy, and give to the conqueror supreme control over it. To destroy
the whole was just the same in principle as to destroy a part. If the
destruction of the whole was necessary in order to carry out the objects
of the campaign, it was not more wicked to perpetrate such destruction
than to destroy a part.

True, according to our modern view, there is something mean in falling
on helpless, defenceless women and children, and slaughtering them in
cold blood. And yet our modern ideas allow the bombardment or the
besieging of great cities, and the bringing of the more slow but
terrible process of starvation to bear against women and children and
all, in order to compel a surrender. Much though modern civilisation has
done to lessen the horrors of war, if we approve of all its methods we
cannot afford to hold up our hands in horror at those which were judged
allowable in the days of David. Yet surely, you may say, we might have
expected better things of David. We might have expected him to break
away from the common sentiment, and to show more humanity. But this
would not have been reasonable. For it is very seldom that the
individual conscience, even in the case of the best men, becomes
sensible at once of the vices of its age. How many good men in this
country, in the early part of this century, were zealous defenders of
slavery, and in America down to a much later time! There is nothing more
needful for us in studying history, even Old Testament history, than to
remember that very remarkable individual excellence may be found in
connection with a great amount of the vices of the age. We cannot
attempt to show that David was not guilty of a horrible carnage in his
treatment of the Amalekites. All we can say is, he shared in the belief
of the time that such carnage was a lawful incident of war. We cannot
but feel that in the whole circumstances it left a stain upon his
character; and yet he may have engaged in it without any consciousness
of barbarity, without any idea that the day would come when his friends
would blush for the deed.

The Philistines were now preparing a new campaign under Achish against
Saul and his kingdom, and Achish determined that David should go with
him; further, that he should go in the capacity of "keeper of his head,"
or captain of his body guard, and that this should not be a temporary
arrangement, but permanent--"for ever." It is difficult for us to
conceive the depth of the embarrassment into which this intimation must
have plunged David. We must bear in mind how scrupulous and sensitive
his conscience was as to raising his hand against the Lord's anointed;
and we must take into account the horror he must have felt at the
thought of rushing in deadly array against his own dear countrymen, with
most of whom he had had no quarrel, and who had never done him any harm.
When Achish made him head of his body guard he paid a great compliment
to his fidelity and bravery; but in proportion as the post was
honourable it was disagreeable and embarrassing. For David and his men
would have to fight close to Achish, under his very eye; and any
symptoms of holding back from the fray--any inclination to be off, or to
spare the foe, which natural feeling might have dictated in the hour of
battle, must be resisted in presence of the king. Perhaps David reckoned
that if the Israelites were defeated by the Philistines he might be able
to make better terms for them--might even be of use to Saul himself, and
thus render such services as would atone for his hostile attitude. But
this was a wretched consolation. David was entangled so that he could
neither advance nor retreat. Before him was GOD, closing His path in
front; behind him was MAN, closing it in rear; and we may well believe
he would have willingly given all he possessed if only his feet could
have been clear and his conscience upright as before.

Still, he does not appear to have returned to a candid frame of mind,
but rather to have continued the dissimulation. He had gone with Achish
as far as the battlefield, when it pleased God, in great mercy, to
extricate him from his difficulty by using the jealousy of the lords of
the Philistines as the means of his dismissal from the active service of
King Achish. But instead of gladly retiring when he received intimation
that his services were dispensed with, we find him (chap. xxix. 8)
remonstrating with Achish, speaking as if it were a disappointment not
to be allowed to go with him, and as if he thirsted for an opportunity
of chastising his countrymen. It is sad to find him continuing in this
strain. We are told that the time during which he abode in the country
of the Philistines was a full year and four months. It was to all
appearance a time of spiritual declension; and as distrust ruled his
heart, so dissimulation ruled his conduct. It could hardly have been
other than a time of merely formal prayers and comfortless spiritual
experience. If he would but have allowed himself to believe it, he was
far happier in the cave of Adullam or the wilderness of Engedi, when the
candle of the Lord shone upon his head, than he was afterwards amid the
splendour of the palace of Achish, or the princely independence of
Ziklag.

The only bright spot in this transaction was the very cordial testimony
borne by Achish to the faultless way in which David had uniformly served
him. It is seldom indeed that such language as Achish employed can be
used of any servant--"I know that thou art good in my sight, as an angel
of God." Achish must have been struck with the utter absence of
treachery and of all self-seeking in David. David had shown that
singular, unblemished trustworthiness that earned such golden opinions
for Joseph in the house of Potiphar and from the keeper of the prison.
In this respect he had kept his light shining before men with a clear,
unclouded lustre. Even amid his spiritual backsliding and sad distrust
of God, he had never stained his hands with greed or theft, he had in
all these respects kept himself unspotted of the world.

The chapter of David's history which we have now been pursuing is a very
painful one, but the circumstances in which he was placed were extremely
difficult and trying. It is impossible to justify the course he took.
By-and-bye we shall see how God chastised him for it, and by chastising
him brought him to Himself. But to those who are disposed to be very
severe on him we might well say, He that is without sin among you, let
him first cast a stone at him. Who among you have not been induced at
times to try carnal and unworthy expedients for extricating yourselves
from difficulty? Who, in days of boyhood or girlhood, never told a
falsehood to cover a fault? Who of you have been uniformly accustomed to
carry to God every difficulty and trial, with the honest, immovable
determination to do simply and solely what might seem to be agreeable to
God's will? Have we not all cause to mourn over conduct that has
dishonoured God and distressed our consciences? May He give all of us
light to see wherein we have come short in the past, or wherein we are
coming short in the present. And from the bottom of our hearts may we be
taught to raise our prayer, From all the craft and cunning of Satan;
from all the devices of the carnal mind; from all that blinds us to the
pure and perfect will of God--good Lord, deliver us.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

_SAUL AT ENDOR._

1 SAMUEL xxviii. 3-25.


For a considerable time Saul had been drifting along like a crippled
vessel at sea, a melancholy example of a man forsaken of God. But as his
decisive encounter with the Philistines drew on, the state of
helplessness to which he had been reduced became more apparent than
ever. He had sagacity enough to perceive that the expedition which the
Philistines were now leading against him was the most formidable that
had ever taken place in his day. It was no ordinary battle that was to
be fought; it was one that would decide the fate of the country. The
magnitude of the expedition on his part is apparent from an expression
in the fourth verse--"Saul gathered all Israel together." The place of
encounter was not any of the old battle-fields with the Philistines.
Usually the engagements had taken place in some of the valleys that ran
down from the territories of Dan, or Benjamin, or Judah into the
Philistine plain, or on the heights above these. But such places were
comparatively contracted, and did not afford scope for great bodies of
troops. This time the Philistines chose a wider and more commanding
battlefield. Advancing northwards along their own maritime plain, and
beyond it along the plain of Sharon, they turned eastwards into the
great plain of Esdraelon or Jezreel, and occupied the northern side of
the plain. The troops of Saul were encamped on the southern side,
occupying the northern slope of Mount Gilboa. There the two armies faced
each other, the wide plain stretching between.

It was a painful moment for Saul when he got his first view of the
Philistine host, for the sight of it filled him with consternation. It
would appear to have surpassed that of Israel very greatly in numbers,
in resources, as it certainly did in its confident spirit. Yet, if Saul
had been a man of faith, none of these things would have moved him. Was
it not in that very neighbourhood that Barak, with his hasty levies, had
inflicted a signal defeat on the Canaanites? And was it not in that very
plain that the hosts of Midian lay encamped in the days of Gideon, when
the barley cake rolling into their camp overturned and terrified the
host, and a complete discomfiture followed? Why should not the Lord work
as great a deliverance now? If God was with them, He was more than all
that could be against them. Might not this be another of the days
foretold by Moses, when one should chase a thousand, and two put ten
thousand to flight?

Yes, _if_ God was with them. All turned upon that _if_. And Saul felt
that God was not with them, and that they could not count on any such
deliverance as, in better times, had been vouchsafed to their fathers.

And why, O Saul, when you felt thus, did you not humble yourself before
God, confess all your sins, and implore Him to show you mercy? Why did
you not cry, "Return, O Lord, how long? And let it repent Thee
concerning Thy servants"? Would you have found God inexorable? Would His
ear have been heavy that it could not hear? Don't you remember how
Moses said that when Israel, in sore bondage, should cry humbly to God,
the Lord would hear his cry, and have mercy on him? Why, O Saul, do you
not fall in the dust before Him?

Somehow Saul felt that he could not. Among other effects of sin and
rebellion, one of the worst is a stiffening of the soul, making it hard
and rigid, so that it cannot bend, it cannot melt, it cannot change its
course. The long career of wilfulness that Saul had followed had
produced in him this stiffening effect; his spirit was hardened in its
own ways, and incapable of all exercise of contrition or humiliation, or
anything essentially different from the course he had been following.
There are times in the life of a deeply afflicted woman when the best
thing she could do would be to weep, but that is just the thing she
cannot do. There are times when the best thing an inveterate sinner
could do would be to fling himself before God and sob for mercy, but
fling himself before God and sob he cannot. Saul was incapable of that
exercise of soul which would have saved him and his people. Most
terrible effect of cherished sin! It dries up the fountains of
contrition and they will not flow. It stiffens the knees and they will
not bend. It paralyses the voice and it will not cry. It blinds the eyes
and they see not the Saviour. It closes the ears and the voice of mercy
is unheard. It drives the distressed one to wells without water, to
refuges of lies, to trees twice dead, to physicians who have no
medicines, to gods who have no salvation; all he feels is that his case
is desperate, and yet somewhere or other he must have help!

Saul did not neglect the outward means by which in other days God had
been accustomed to direct the nation. He tried every authorized way he
could think of for getting guidance from above. He believed in a
heavenly power, and he asked its guidance and its help. But God took no
notice of him. He answered him neither by dreams, nor by Urim, nor by
prophets. Men, though in heart rebellious against God's will, will go
through a great deal of mechanical service in the hope of securing His
favour. It is not their muscles that get stiffened, but their souls.
What a strange conception they must have of God when they fancy that
mere external services will please Him! How little Saul knew of God when
he supposed that, overlooking all the rebellion of his heart, God would
respond to a mechanical effort or efforts to communicate with Him! Don't
you know, O Saul, that your iniquities have separated between you and
your God, and your sins have hid His face from you that He will not
hear? Nothing will have the least effect on Him till you own your sin.
"I will go and return unto My place, until they acknowledge their
offence and seek My face." And this is just what you will not, cannot
do! How infinitely precious would one tear of genuine repentance have
been in that dark hour! It would have saved thousands of the Israelites
from a bloody death; it would have saved the nation from defeat and
humiliation; it would have removed the obstacle to fellowship with the
Hope of Israel, who would have stood true to His ancient
character,--"the Saviour thereof in time of trouble."

But Saul's day of grace was over, and accordingly we find him driven to
the most humbling expedient to which a man can stoop--seeking counsel
from a quarter against which, in his more prosperous days, he had
directed his special energies, as a superstitious, demoralizing agency.
He had been most zealous in exterminating a class of persons, abounding
in Eastern countries, who pretend to know the secrets of the future, and
to have access to the inhabitants of the unseen world. Little could he
have dreamt in those days of fiery zeal that a time would come when he
would rejoice to learn that one poor wretch had escaped the vigilance of
his officers, and still carried on, or pretended to carry on, a
nefarious traffic with the realms of the departed! It shows how little
man is acquainted with the inner feelings of other men--how little he
knows even himself. Doubtless he thought, in the days of exterminating
zeal, that it was sheer folly and drivelling superstition that
encouraged these sorcerers, and that by clearing them away he would be
ridding the land of a mass of rubbish that could be of service to no
one. He did not consider that there are times of wretchedness and
despair when the soul that knows not God will seek counsel even of men
with a familiar spirit--he little dreamt that such would be the case
with himself. "Is thy servant a dog that he should do this thing?" he
would have asked with great indignation in those early days, if it had
been insinuated that he would ever be tempted to resort to such
counsellors. "What better could I ever be of anything they could tell
me? Surely it would be wiser to meet any conceivable danger full in the
face than to seek after such counsel as they could give!" He did not
consider that when man's spirit is overwhelmed within him, and his
craving for help is like the passion of a madman, he will clutch like a
drowning man at a straw, he will even resort to a woman with a familiar
spirit, if, peradventure, some hint can be got to extricate him from his
misery.

But to this complexion it came at last. With dreadful sacrifice of
self-respect, Saul had to ask his advisers to seek out for him a woman
of this description. They were able to tell him of such a woman residing
at Endor, about ten miles from where they were. With two attendants he
set out after nightfall, disguised, and found her. Naturally, she was
afraid to do anything in the way of business in the face of such
measures as the king had taken against all of her craft, nor would she
stir until she had got a solemn promise that she would not be molested
in any way. Then, when all was ready, she asked whom she should call up.
"Call up Samuel," said Saul. To the great astonishment of the woman
herself, she sees Samuel rising up. A shriek from her indicates that she
is as much astonished and for the moment frightened as anyone can be.
Evidently she did not expect such an apparition. The effect was much too
great for the cause. She sees that in this apparition a power is
concerned much beyond what she can wield. Instinctively she apprehends
that the only man of importance enough to receive such a supernatural
visit must be the head of the nation. "Why did you deceive me?" she
said, "for thou art Saul." "Never mind that," is virtually Saul's reply;
"but tell me what you have seen." The Revised Version gives her answer
better than the older one--"I saw a god arise out of the earth." "What
is his appearance?" earnestly asks Saul. "He is an old man, and he is
covered with a mantle." And Saul sees that it is really Samuel.

But what was it that really happened, and how did it come about? That
the woman was able, even if she really had the aid of evil spirits, to
bring Samuel into Saul's presence we cannot believe. Nor could she
believe it herself. If Samuel really appeared--and the narrative assumes
that he did--it must have been by a direct miracle, God supernaturally
clothing his spirit in something like its old form, and bringing him
back to earth to speak to Saul. In judgment it seemed good to God to let
Saul have his desire, and to give him a real interview with Samuel. "He
gave him his request, but sent leanness to his soul." So far from having
his fears allayed and his burden removed, Saul was made to see from
Samuel's communication that there was nothing but ruin before him; and
he must have gone back to the painful duty of the morrow staggering
under a load heavier than before.

Samuel begins the conversation; and he does so by reproaching Saul for
having disquieted him, and brought him back from his peaceful home above
to mingle again in the strife and turmoil of human things. Nothing can
exceed the haggard and weird desolation of Saul's answer. "I am sore
distressed; for the Philistines make war against me, and God is departed
from me and answereth me no more, neither by prophets nor by dreams:
therefore I have called thee, that thou mayest make known unto me what I
shall do." Was ever a king in such a plight? Who would have thought,
when Samuel and Saul first came together, and Saul listened so
respectfully to the prophet counselling him concerning the kingdom, that
their last meeting should be like this? In all Saul's statement there is
no word that carries such a load of meaning and of despair as this--"God
is departed from me." It is the token of universal confusion and
calamity. And Saul felt it, and as no one understood these things like
Samuel, he had sought Samuel to counsel his wayward son, to tell him
what to do.

It is not every sinner that makes the discovery in this life what awful
results follow when God is departed from him. But if the discovery does
not dawn on one in this life, it will come on him with overwhelming
force in the life to come. Men little think what they are preparing for
themselves when they say to God, "Depart from us, for we desire not the
knowledge of Thy ways." The service of God is irksome; the restraints of
God's law are distressing; they like a free life, freedom to please
themselves. And so they part company with God. The form of Divine
service may be kept up or it may not: but God is not their God, and
God's will is not their rule. They have left God's ways, they have
followed their own. And when conscience has sometimes given them a
twinge, when God has reminded them by the silent monitor of His claims,
their answer has been, Let us alone, what have we to do with Thee?
Depart from us, leave us in peace. Ah! how little have you considered
that the most awful thing that could happen to you is just for God to
depart from you! If we could conceive the earth a sensitive being, and
somehow to get a dislike for the sun, and to pray the sun to depart from
her, how awful would be the fulfilment! Losing all the genial influences
that brighten her surface, that cover her face with beauty and enrich
her soil with abundance, all the foul and slimy creatures of darkness
would creep out, all the noxious influences of dissolution and death
would riot in their terrible freedom! And is not this but a poor faint
picture of man forsaken by God! O sinner, if ever thy wish should be
fulfilled, how wilt thou curse the day in which thou didst utter it!
When vile lusts rise to uncontrollable authority--when those whom you
love turn hopelessly wicked, when you find yourselves joyless, helpless,
hopeless, when you try to repent and cannot repent, when you try to pray
and cannot pray, when you try to be pure and cannot be pure--what a
terrible calamity you will then feel it that God is departed from you!
Trifle not, O man, with thy relation to God; and let not thy history be
such that it shall have to be written in the words of the prophet--"But
they rebelled and vexed His Holy Spirit; therefore He was turned to be
their enemy and He fought against them" (Isaiah lxiii. 10).

There was no comfort for Saul in Samuel's reply, but much the contrary.
Why should he have asked advice of the Lord's servant, when he owned
that he was forsaken by the Lord Himself? What could the servant do for
him if the Master was become his enemy? What can a priest or a minister
do for any man if God has turned His face away from him? Can he make God
deny Himself, and become favourable to one who has scorned or sinned
away His Holy Spirit? Saul was experiencing no more than he had just
reason to expect since that fatal day when he had first deliberately set
up his own will above God's will in the affair of Amalek. In the course
which he began then, he had persistently continued, and God was now just
executing the threatenings which Saul had braved. And next day would
witness the last of his sad history. The Lord would deliver Israel into
the hands of the Philistines; in the collision of the armies he and his
sons would be slain; disaster to his arms, death to himself, and
destruction to his dynasty would all come together on that miserable
day.

It is no wonder that Saul was utterly prostrated: "He fell straightway
all along on the earth, and was sore afraid, because of the words of
Samuel; and there was no strength in him; for he had eaten no bread all
the day, nor all the night." He could not have expected that the
interview with Samuel would be a pleasant one, but he never imagined
that it would announce such awful calamities. Have you not known
sometimes the terrible sensation when you had heard there was something
wrong with some of your friends, and on going to inquire, discovered
that the calamity was infinitely worse than you had ever dreamt of? A
momentary paralysis comes over one; you are stunned and made helpless by
the tidings. We may even be tempted to think that surely Samuel was too
hard on Saul; might he not have tempered his awful message by some
qualifying word of hope and mercy? The answer is, Samuel spoke the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. We are all prone to
the thought that when evil men get their doom there will surely be
something to modify or mitigate its rigour. Samuel's words to Saul
indicate no such relaxation. Moral law will vindicate itself as natural
law vindicates itself--"Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also
reap."

The last incident in the chapter is interesting and pleasing. We might
have thought that such a calling as that followed by the witch of Endor
would have destroyed all the humanities in her nature; that she would
have looked on the king's distress with a cold, stoical eye, and that
her only concern would be to obtain for herself a fee adapted to the
occasion. But she shows much of the woman left in her after all. When
she rehearses her service, and the peril of her life at which it has
been rendered, to prepare the way for her asking a favour, the favour
which she does ask is not for herself at all,--it is on Saul's own
behalf, that she might be permitted the honour of preparing for him a
meal. Saul's mind is too much occupied and too much agitated to care
for anything of the kind. Still prostrate on the ground he says, "I will
not eat." Men overwhelmed by calamity hate to eat, they are too excited
to experience hunger. It was only when his servants, thinking how much
he had gone through already, how much more he had to go through on the
morrow, and how utterly unfit his exhausted body was for the strain--it
was then only that he yielded to the request of the woman. And the woman
showed that, for all her sinister business, she was equal to the
occasion of entertaining a king. The "fat calf in the house"
corresponded to the "fatted calf" in the parable of the prodigal son. It
was not the custom even in families of the richer class to eat meat at
ordinary meals; it was reserved for feasts and extraordinary occasions;
and in order to be ready for any emergency a calf was kept close to the
house, whose flesh, from the delicate way in which it was reared and
fed, was tender enough to be served even at so hasty a meal. With cakes
of unleavened bread, this dish could be presented very rapidly, and,
unlike the hasty meals which are common among us, was really a more
substantial and nourishing entertainment than ordinary. It is touching
to mark these traces of womanly feeling in this unhappy being, reminding
us of the redeeming features of Rahab the harlot. What effect the whole
transaction had on the woman we are not told, and it would be vain to
conjecture.

And now Saul retraces his dark and dreary way southward to the heights
of Gilboa. We can hardly exaggerate his miserable condition. He had much
to think of, and he would have needed a clear, unclouded mind. We can
think of him only as miserably distracted, and unable to let his mind
settle on anything. It would have needed his utmost resources to
arrange for the battle of to-morrow, a battle in which he knew that
defeat was coming, but which he might endeavour, nevertheless, to make
as little disastrous as possible. Moreover, he knew it was to be the
last day of his life, and troubled thoughts could not but steal in on
him as to what should happen when he stood before God. No doubt, too,
there were many sad thoughts about his sons, who were to be involved in
the same fate as himself. Was there no way of saving any of them? The
arrangement of his temporal effects, too, would claim attention, for,
restless and excitable as he had been, it was not likely that his
private affairs would be in very good order. Anon his thoughts might
wander back to his first interview with Samuel, and bitter remorse would
send its pang through him as he thought how differently he might have
left the kingdom if he had faithfully followed the counsels of the
prophet. Possibly amid all these gloomy thoughts one thought of a
brighter order might steal into his mind--how thoroughly David, who
would come to the throne after him, would retrieve his errors and
restore prosperity, and make the kingdom what it had never been under
him, a model kingdom, worthy to shadow forth the glories of Messiah's
coming reign. Poor distracted man, he was little fitted either to fight
a battle with the Philistines or to encounter the last enemy on his own
account. What a lesson to be prepared beforehand! On a deathbed,
especially a sudden one, distractions can hardly fail to visit us--this
thing and the other thing needing to be arranged and thought of. Happy
they who at such a moment can say, "I am now ready to depart." "Into Thy
hands I commend my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of
truth."



CHAPTER XXXV.

_DAVID AT ZIKLAG._

1 SAMUEL xxx.


After David had received from King Achish the appointment of captain of
his body guard, he had with his troops accompanied the Philistine army,
passing along the maritime plain to the very end of their journey--to
the spot selected for battle, close to "the fountain which is in
Jezreel." It seems to have been only after the whole Philistine host
were ranged in battle array that the presence of David and his men, who
remained in the rear to protect the king, arrested the attention of the
lords of the Philistines, and on their remonstrance they were sent away.
It is probable that David's return to Ziklag, and the expedition in
which he had to engage to recover his wives and his property, took place
at or about the very time when Saul made his journey to Endor, and when
the fatal battle of Gilboa was raging. We have seen that though David
never, like Saul, threw off the authority of God, he had been following
ways of his own, ways of deceit and unfaithfulness. He too had been
exposing himself to the displeasure of God, and on him, as on Saul, some
retribution behoved to fall. But in the two cases we see the difference
between judgment and chastisement. In the case of Saul it was judgment
that came down; his life and his career were terminated avowedly as the
punishment of his offence. In the case of David the rod was lifted to
correct, not to destroy; to bring him back, not to drive him for ever
away; to fit him for service, not to cut him asunder, or appoint him his
portion with the hypocrites. There is every reason to believe that the
awful disaster that befell David on his return to Ziklag was the means
of restoring him to a trustful and truthful frame.

It appears from the chapter now before us that, in the absence of David
and his troop, severe reprisals had been taken by the Amalekites for the
defeat and utter destruction which they had lately inflicted on a
portion of their tribe. We must remember that the Amalekites were a
widely dispersed people, consisting of many tribes, each living
separately from the rest, but so related that in any emergency they
would readily come to one another's help. News of the extermination of
the tribes whom David had attacked, and whom he had utterly destroyed
lest any of them should bring word to Achish of his real employment, had
been brought to their neighbours; and these neighbours determined to
take revenge for the slaughter of their kinsmen. The opportunity of
David's absence was taken for invading Ziklag, for which purpose a large
and well-equipped expedition had been got together; and as they met with
no opposition, they carried everything before them. Happily, however, as
they found no enemies they did not draw the sword; they counted it
better policy to carry off all that could be transported, so as to make
use of the goods, and sell the women and children into slavery, and as
they had a great multitude of beasts of burden with them (ver. 17) there
could be no difficulty in carrying out this plan. It seems very strange
that David should have left Ziklag apparently without the protection of
a single soldier; but what seems to us folly had all the effect of
consummate wisdom in the end; the passions of the Amalekites were not
excited by opposition or by bloodshed; their destructive propensities
were satisfied with destroying the town of Ziklag, and every person and
thing that could be removed was carried away unhurt. But for days to
come David could not know that their expedition had been conducted in
this unusually peaceful way; his imagination and his fears would picture
far darker scenes.

It must have been an awful moment to David--hardly less so than to Saul
when he saw the host of the Philistines near Jezreel--to reach what had
been recently so peaceful a home and find it a mass of smoking ruins. If
he had been disposed to congratulate himself on the success of the
policy which had dictated his escape from the land of Judah, and his
settling at Ziklag under protection of King Achish, how in one moment
must the rottenness of the whole plan have flashed upon him, and how
awed must he have been at the proof now so clearly afforded that the
whole arrangement had been frowned on by the God of heaven! What an
agony of suspense and distress he must have been in till more definite
news could be obtained; and what a burst of despair must have been heard
through the camp when it became known to his followers that the worst
that could be conceived had happened--that their houses were all
destroyed, their property seized, and their wives and children carried
off, to be disgraced, or sold, or butchered, as might suit the fancy of
their masters! And then, that remorseless massacre that they had lately
inflicted on the kinsmen of their invaders, how likely it would be to
exasperate their passions against them! What mercy would they show
whose neighbours had received no mercy? What a dreadful fate would these
helpless women and children be now experiencing!

It was probably one of the bitterest of the many bitter hours that David
ever spent. First there was the natural feeling of disappointment, after
a long and weary march, when the comforts of home had been so eagerly
looked forward to, and each man seemed already in the embrace of his
family, to find home utterly obliterated, and its place marked by
blackened ruins. Then there was the far more intense pang to every
affectionate heart, caused by the carrying off of the members of their
families; this, it appears, was the predominant feeling of the camp:
"the soul of the people was grieved, every man for his sons and for his
daughters." And somehow David was the person blamed, partly perhaps
through that hasty but unjust feeling that blames the leader of an
expedition for all the mishaps attending it, and partly also, it may be,
because Ziklag had been left utterly undefended. "What business had he
to march us all at the heels of these uncircumcised Philistines, as if
we ought to make common cause with them, only to march us back again
just as we came, to gain nothing there and to lose everything here!" To
all this was added a further element of excitement: it was not merely
calamities known and seen that worked in the minds of the people; the
gloom of dreaded but uncertain horrors helped to excite them still more.
Imagination would quickly supply the place of evidence in picturing the
situation of their wives and children. The feelings of the troops were
so fearfully excited against David that they spoke of stoning him. The
very men that had lately approached him with the beautiful salutation,
"Peace, peace be to thee, and peace be to thine helpers, for thy God
helpeth thee," now spoke of stoning him. How like the spirit and the
conduct of their descendants a thousand years later, shouting at one
time, "Hosanna to the Son of David," and but a few days after, "Crucify
Him, crucify Him." The state of David's feelings must have been all the
more terrible for the uneasy conscience he had in the matter, for he had
too much cause to feel that the dissembling policy which he had been
pursuing had caused another massacre, more frightful than that of the
priests after his visit to Nob.

It is probable that at this awful moment the mind of David was visited
by a blessed influence from above. The wail of woe that spread through
his camp, and the dismal ruins that covered the site of his recent home,
seem to have spoken to him in that tone of rebuke which the words of the
prophet afterwards conveyed, "Thou art the man!" Under great excitement
the mind works with great rapidity, and passes almost with the speed of
lightning from one mood to another. It is quite possible that under the
same electric shock, as we may call it, that brought David to a sense of
his sin he was guided back to his former confidence in the mercy and
grace of his covenant God. In one instant, we may believe, the miserable
hollowness of all those carnal devices in which he had been trusting
would flash upon his mind, and God--his own loving Father and covenant
God--would appear waiting to be gracious and longing for his return. And
now the prodigal son is in his Father's arms, weeping, sobbing,
confessing, but at the same time feeling the luxury of forgiveness,
rejoicing, trusting and delighting in His protection and blessing.

It may indeed be objected that we are proceeding too much on mere
imagination in supposing that David's return to a condition of holy
trust in God was effected in this rapid way. The view may be wrong, and
we do not insist on it. What we found on is the very short interval
between his last act of dissimulation in professing to desire to
accompany Achish to battle, and his manifest restoration to the spirit
of trust, evinced in the words, applied to him when the people spoke of
stoning him, "But David strengthened himself in the Lord his God" (ver.
6). These words show that he has got back to the true track at last, and
from that moment prosperity returns. What a blessed thing it was for him
that in that hour of utmost need he was able to derive strength from the
thought of God,--able to think of the Most High as watching him with
interest, and still ready to deliver him!

It was a somewhat similar incident, though not preceded by any such
previous backsliding--a similar manifestation of the magical power of
trust--that took place in the life of a more modern David, one who in
serving God and doing good to man had to encounter a life of wandering,
privation, and danger seldom surpassed--the African missionary and
explorer, David Livingstone. In the course of his great journey from St.
Paul de Loanda on the west coast of Africa to Quilimane on the east, he
had to encounter many an angry and greedy tribe, whom he was too poor to
be able to pacify by the ordinary method of valuable presents. On one
occasion, in the fork at the confluence of the river Loangwa and the
river Zambesi, he found one of those hostile tribes. It was necessary
for him to have canoes to cross--they would lend him only one. In other
respects they showed an attitude of hostility, and the appearances all
pointed to a furious attack the following day. Livingstone was troubled
at the prospect,--not that he was afraid to die, but because it seemed
as if all his discoveries in Africa would be lost, and his sanguine
hopes for planting commerce and Christianity among its benighted and
teeming tribes knocked on the head. But he remembered the words of the
Lord Jesus Christ, "Go ye therefore into all the world, and preach the
gospel unto every creature, and lo, I am with you alway, even unto the
end of the world." On this promise he rested, and steadied his
fluttering heart. "It is the word of a gentleman," he said, "the word of
one of the most perfect honour. I will not try, as I once thought, to
escape by night, but I will wait till to-morrow, and leave before them
all. Should such a man as I be afraid? I will take my observations for
longitude tonight, though it should be my last. My mind is now quite at
rest, thank God." He waited as he had said, and next morning, though the
arrangements of the natives still betokened battle, he and his men were
allowed to cross the river in successive detachments, without
molestation, he himself waiting to the last, and not a hair of their
heads being hurt. It was a fine instance of a believing Christian
strengthening himself in his God. When faith is genuine, and the habit
of exercising it is active, it can remove mountains.

The first result of the restored feeling of trust in David was his
giving honour to God's appointed ordinance by asking counsel of Him,
through Abiathar the priest, as to the course he should follow. It is
the first time we read of him doing so since he left his own country. At
first one wonders how he could have discontinued so precious a means of
ascertaining the will of God and the path of duty. But the truth is,
when a man is left to himself he cares for no advice or direction but
his own inclination. He is not desirous to be led; he wishes only to go
comfortably. Indifference to God's guidance explains much neglect of
prayer.

David has now made his application, and he has got a clear and decided
answer. He can feel now that he is treading on solid ground. How much
happier he must have been than when driving hither and thither, scheming
and dissembling, and floundering from one device of carnal wisdom to
another! As for his people, he can think of them now with far more
tranquillity; have they not been all along in God's keeping, and is it
not true that He that keepeth Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps?

We need not dwell at great length on the incidents that immediately
followed. No events could have fallen out more favourably. One-third of
his troops was indeed so exhausted that they had to be left at the brook
Besor. With the other four hundred he set out in search of the foe. The
special providence of God, so clearly and frequently displayed on this
occasion, provided a guide for David in the person of an Egyptian slave,
who, having fallen sick, had been abandoned by his master, and had been
three days and nights without meat or drink. Careful treatment having
resuscitated this young man, and a solemn assurance having been given
him that he would neither be killed nor given back to his master (the
latter alternative seems to have been as terrible as the other), he
conducts them without loss of time to the camp of the Amalekites. Each
day's journey brought them nearer and nearer to the great wilderness
where, some five or six hundred years before, their fathers had
encountered Amalek at Rephidim, and had gained a great victory over
them, after not a few fluctuations, through the uplifted arms of Moses,
the token of reliance on the strength of God. Through the same good hand
on David, the Amalekites, surprised in the midst of a time of careless
and uproarious festivity, were completely routed, and all but destroyed.
Every article they had stolen, and every woman and child they had
carried off, were recovered unhurt. Such a deliverance was beyond
expectation. When the Lord turned again the captivity of Ziklag, they
were like men that dream.

The happy change of circumstances was signalized by David by two
memorable acts, the one an act of justice, the other an act of
generosity. The act of justice was his interfering to repress the
selfishness of the part of his troops who were engaged in the fight with
Amalek, some of whom wished to exclude the disabled portion, who had to
remain at the brook Besor, from sharing the spoil. The objectors are
called "the wicked men and the men of Belial." It is a significant
circumstance that David had been unable to inspire all his followers
with his own spirit--that even at the end of his residence in Ziklag
there were wicked men and men of Belial among them. No doubt these were
the very men that had been loudest in their complaints against David,
and had spoken of stoning him when they came to know of the calamity at
Ziklag. Complaining men are generally selfish men. They objected to
David's proposal to share the spoil with the whole body of his
followers. Their proposal was especially displeasing to David at a time
when God had given them such tokens of undeserved goodness. It was of
the same sort as the act of the unforgiving servant in the parable, who,
though forgiven his ten thousand talents, came down with unmitigated
ferocity on the fellow-servant that owed him an hundred pence.

The act of generosity was his distribution over the cities in the
neighbourhood of the spoil which he had taken from the Amalekites. If he
had been of a selfish nature he might have kept it all for himself and
his people. But it was "the spoil of the enemies of the Lord." It was
David's desire to recognise God in connection with this spoil, both to
show that he had not made his onslaught on the Amalekites for personal
ends, and to acknowledge, in royal style, the goodness which God had
shown him. That it was an act of policy as well as a recognition of God
may be readily acknowledged. Undoubtedly David was desirous to gain the
favourable regard of his neighbours, as a help toward his recognition
when the throne of Israel should become empty. But we may surely admit
this, and yet recognise in his actions on this occasion the generosity
as well as the godliness of his nature. He was one of those men to whom
it is more blessed to give than to receive, and who are never so happy
themselves as when they are making others happy. The Bethel mentioned in
ver. 27 as first among the places benefited can hardly be the place
ordinarily known by that name, which was far distant from Ziklag, but
some other Bethel much nearer the southern border of the land. The most
northerly of the places specified of whose situation we are assured was
Hebron, itself well to the south of Judah, and soon to become the
capital where David reigned. The large number of places that shared his
bounty was a proof of the royal liberality with which it was spread
abroad.

And in this bounty, this royal profusion of gifts, we may surely
recognise a fit type of "great David's greater Son." How clearly it
appeared from the very first that the spirit of Jesus Christ exemplified
His own maxim which we have just quoted, "It is more blessed to give
than to receive." Once only, and that in His infancy, when the wise men
laid at His feet their myrrh, frankincense, and gold, do we read of
anything like a lavish contribution of the gifts of earth being given to
Him. But follow Him through the whole course of His earthly life and
ministry, and see how just was the image of Malachi that compared Him to
the sun--"the Sun of Righteousness with healing in His wings." What a
gloriously diffusive nature He had, dropping gifts of fabulous price in
every direction without money and without price! "Jesus went about in
all Galilee" (it was now the turn of the north to enjoy the benefit),
"teaching in their synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the kingdom,
and healing all manner of diseases and all manner of sickness among the
people." Listen to the opening words of the Sermon on the Mount; what a
dropping of honey as from the honeycomb we have in those beatitudes,
which so wonderfully commend the precious virtues to which they are
attached! Follow Jesus through any part of His earthly career, and you
find the same spirit of royal liberality. Stand by Him even in the last
hour of His mortal life, and count His deeds of kindness. See how He
heals the ear of Malchus, though He healed no wounds of His own. Listen
to Him deprecating the tears of the weeping women, and turning their
attention to evils among themselves that had more need to be wept for.
Hear the tender tones of His prayer, "Father, forgive them, for they
know not what they do." Observe the gracious look He casts on the thief
beside Him in answer to his prayer--"Verily I say unto thee, this day
shalt thou be with Me in Paradise." Mark how affectionately He provides
for His mother. See Him after His resurrection saying to the weeping
Mary, Woman, why weepest thou? Count that multitude of fishes which He
has brought to the nets of His disciples, in token of the riches of
spiritual success with which they are to be blessed. And mark, on the
day of Pentecost, how richly from His throne in glory He sheds down the
Holy Spirit, and quickens thousands together with the breath of
spiritual life. "Thou hast ascended on high, Thou hast led captivity
captive, Thou hast received gifts for men; yea, for the rebellious also,
that the Lord God might dwell among them."

It is a most blessed and salutary thing for you all to cherish the
thought of the royal munificence of Christ. Think of the kindest and
most lavish giver you ever knew, and think how Christ surpasses him in
this very grace as far as the heavens are above the earth. What
encouragement does this give you to trust in Him! What a sin it shows
you to commit when you turn away from Him! But remember, too, that Jesus
Christ is the image of the invisible God. Remember that He came to
reveal the Father. Perhaps we are more disposed to doubt the royal
munificence of the Father than that of the Son. But how unreasonable is
this! Was not Jesus Christ Himself, with all the glorious fulness
contained in him, the gift of God--His unspeakable gift? And in every
act of generosity done by Christ have we not just an exhibition of the
Father's heart? Sometimes we think hardly of God's generosity in
connection with His decree of election. Leave that alone; it is one of
the deep things of God; remember that every soul brought to Christ is
the fruit of God's unmerited love and infinite grace; and remember too
what a vast company the redeemed are, when in the Apocalyptic vision, an
early section of them--those that came out of "the great
tribulation"--formed a great multitude that no man could number.
Sometimes we think that God is not generous when He takes away very
precious comforts, and even the most cherished treasures of our hearts
and our homes. But that is love in disguise; "What I do thou knowest not
now, but thou shalt know hereafter." And sometimes we think that He is
not generous when He is slow to answer our prayers. But He designs only
to encourage us to perseverance, and to increase and finally all the
more reward our faith. Yes, truly, whatever anomalies Providence may
present, and they are many; whatever seeming contradictions we may
encounter to the doctrine of the exceeding riches of the grace of God,
let us ascribe all that to our imperfect vision and our imperfect
understanding. Let us correct all such narrow impressions at the cross
of Christ. Let us reason, like the Apostle: "He that spared not His own
Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also
freely give us all things?" And let us feel assured that when at last
God's ways and dealings even with this wayward world are made plain, the
one conclusion which they will go to establish for evermore is--that GOD
IS LOVE.



CHAPTER XXXVI.

_THE DEATH OF SAUL._

1 SAMUEL xxxi.


The plain of Esdraelon, where the battle between Saul and the
Philistines was fought, has been celebrated for many a deadly encounter,
from the very earliest period of history. Monuments of Egypt lately
deciphered make it very plain that long before the country was possessed
by the Israelites the plain had experienced the shock of contending
armies. The records of the reign of Thotmes III., who has sometimes been
called the Alexander the Great of Egypt, bear testimony to a decisive
fight in his time near Megiddo, and enumerate the names of many towns in
the neighbourhood, most of which occur in Bible history, of which the
spoil was carried to Egypt and placed in the temples of the Egyptian
gods. Here, too, it was afterwards that Barak encountered the
Canaanites, and Gideon the Midianites and Amalekites; here "Jehu smote
all that remained of the house of Ahab in Jezreel, and all his great
men, and his familiar friends, and his priests, until he left none
remaining;" here Josiah was slain in his great battle with the
Egyptians; here was the great lamentation after Josiah's death,
celebrated by Zechariah, "the mourning of Hadad-Rimmon in the valley of
Megiddo;" in short, in the words of Dr. Clarke, "Esdraelon has been the
chosen place of encampment in every great contest carried on in the
country, until the disastrous march of Napoleon Bonaparte from Egypt
into Syria. Jews, Gentiles, Saracens, Crusaders, Egyptians, Persians,
Druses, Turks, Arabs, and French, warriors out of every nation which is
under heaven, have pitched their tents upon the plains of Esdraelon, and
have beheld their banners wet with the dews of Tabor and Hermon." So
late as 1840, when the Pacha of Egypt had seized upon Syria, he was
compelled to abandon the country when the citadel of Acre, which guards
the entrance of the plain of Esdraelon by sea, was bombarded and
destroyed by the British fleet. It is no wonder that in the symbolical
visions of the Apocalypse, a town in this plain, Ar-Mageddon, is
selected as the battlefield for the great conflict when the kings of the
whole earth are to be gathered together unto the battle of the great day
of Almighty God. As in the plains of Belgium, the plains of Lombardy, or
the carse of Stirling, battle after battle has been fought in the space
between Jezreel and Gilboa, to decide who should be master of the whole
adjacent territory.

The Philistine host are said to have gathered themselves together and
pitched in Shunem (chap. xxviii. 4), and afterwards to have gathered all
their hosts to Aphek, and pitched by the fountain which is in Jezreel
(xxix. 1). That is to say, they advanced from a westward to a northward
position, which last they occupied before the battle. Saul appears from
the beginning to have arranged his troops on the northern slopes of
Mount Gilboa, and to have remained in that position during the battle.
It was an excellent position for fighting, but very unfavourable for a
retreat. Apparently the Philistines began the battle by moving
southwards across the plain till they reached the foot of Gilboa, where
the tug of war began. Notwithstanding the favourable position of the
Hebrews, they were completely defeated. The archers appear to have done
deadly execution; as they advanced nearer to the host of Israel, the
latter would move backward to get out of range; while the Philistines,
gaining confidence, would press them more and more, till the orderly
retreat became a terrible rout. So utterly routed was the Israelite army
that they do not appear to have tried a single rally, which, as they had
to retreat over Mount Gilboa, it would have been so natural for them to
do. Panic and consternation seem to have seized them very early in the
battle; that they would be defeated was probably a foregone conclusion,
but the attitude of a retreating army seems to have been assumed more
quickly and suddenly than could have been supposed. If the Philistine
army, seeing the early confusion of the Israelites, had the courage to
pour themselves along the valleys on each side of Gilboa, no way of
retreat would be left to their enemy except over the top of the hill.
And when that was reached, and the Israelites began to descend, the
arrows of the pursuing Philistines would fall on them with more deadly
effect than ever, and the slaughter would be tremendous.

Saul seems never to have been deficient in personal courage, and in the
course of the battle he and his staff were evidently in the very
thickest of the fight. "The Philistines followed hard upon Saul and upon
his sons; and the Philistines slew Jonathan, and Abinadab, and
Melchi-shua, the sons of Saul." Saul himself was greatly distressed in
his flight by reason of the archers. Finding himself wounded, and being
provided with neither chariot nor other means of escape, a horror
seized him that if once the enemy got possession of him alive they would
subject him to some nameless mutilation or horrible humiliation too
terrible to be thought of. Hence his request to his armour-bearer to
fall on him. When the armour-bearer refused, he took a sword from him
and killed himself.

It may readily be allowed that to one not ruled habitually by regard to
the will of God this was the wisest course to follow. If the Philistine
treatment of captive kings resembled the Assyrian, death was far rather
to be chosen than life. When we find on Assyrian monuments such
frightful pictures as those of kings obliged to carry the heads of their
sons in processions, or themselves pinned to the ground by stakes driven
through their hands and feet, and undergoing the horrible process of
being flayed alive, we need not wonder at Saul shrinking with horror
from what he might have had to suffer if he had been taken prisoner.

But what are we to think of the moral aspect of his act of suicide? That
in all ordinary cases suicide is a daring sin, who can deny? God has not
given to man the disposal of his life in such a sense. It is a daring
thing for man to close his day of grace sooner than God would have
closed it. It is a reckless thing to rush into the presence of his Maker
before His Maker has called him to appear. It is a presumptuous thing to
calculate on bettering his condition by plunging into an untried
eternity. No doubt one must be tender in judging of men pressed hard by
real or imaginary terrors, perhaps their reason staggering, their
instincts trembling, and a horror of great darkness obscuring
everything. Yet how often, in his last written words, does the suicide
bear testimony against himself when he hopes that God will forgive him,
and beseeches his friends to forgive him. Does not this show that in
his secret soul he is conscious that he ought to have borne longer,
ought to have quitted himself more like a man, and suffered every
extremity of fortune before quenching the flame of life within him?

The truth is, that the suicide of Saul, as of many another, is an act
that cannot be judged by itself, but must be taken in connection with
the course of his previous life. We have said that to one not habitually
ruled by regard to the will of God, self-destruction at such a moment
was the wisest course. That is to say, if he merely balanced what
_appeared_ to be involved in terminating his life against what was
involved in the Philistines taking him and torturing him, the former
alternative was by far the more tolerable. But the question comes
up,--if he had not habitually disregarded the will of God, would he ever
have been in that predicament? The criminality of many an act must be
thrown back on a previous act, out of which it has arisen. A drunkard in
a midnight debauch quarrels with his father, and plunges a knife into
his heart. When he comes to himself he is absolutely unconscious of what
he has done. He tells you he had no wish nor desire to injure his
father. It was not his proper self that did it, but his proper self
over-mastered, over-thrown, brutalized by the monster drink. Do you
excuse him on this account? Far from it. You excuse him of a deliberate
design against his father's life. But you say the possibility of that
deed was involved in his getting drunk. For a man to get drunk, to
deprive himself for the time of his senses, and expose himself to an
influence that may cause him to commit a most horrible and unnatural
crime, is a fearful sin. Thus you carry back the criminality of the
murder to the previous act of getting drunk. So in regard to the
suicide of Saul. The criminality of that act is to be carried back to
the sin of which he was guilty when he determined to follow his own will
instead of the will of God. It was through that sin that he was brought
into his present position. Had he been dutiful to God he would never
have been in such a dilemma. On the one hand he never would have been so
defeated and humiliated in battle; and on the other hand he would have
had a trust in the Divine protection even when a bloody enemy like the
Philistines was about to seize him. It was the true source alike of his
public defeat and of his private despair that he indicated when he said
to Samuel, "God is departed from me;" and he might have been sure that
God would not have departed from him if he had not first departed from
God.

It is a most important principle of life we thus get sight of, when we
see the bearing that one act of sin has upon another. It is very seldom
indeed that the consequences of any sin terminate with itself. Sin has a
marvellous power of begetting, of leading you on to other acts that you
did not think of at first, of involving you in meshes that were then
quite out of your view. And this multiplying process of sin is a course
that may begin very early. Children are warned of it in the hymn--"He
that does one fault at first, and lies to hide it, makes it two." A sin
needs to be covered, and another sin is resorted to in order to provide
the covering. Nor is that all. You have a partner in your sin, and to
free yourself you perhaps betray your partner. That partner may be not
only the weaker vessel, but also by far the heavier sufferer, and yet,
in your wretched selfishness, you deny all share of the sin, or you
leave your partner to be ruined. Alas! alas! how terrible are the ways
of sin. How difficult it often is for the sinner to retrace his steps!
And how terrible is the state of mind when one says, I must commit this
sin or that--I have no alternative! How terrible was Saul's position
when he said, "I must destroy myself." Truly sin is a hard, unfeeling
master--"The way of transgressors is hard." He only that walketh
uprightly walketh surely. "Blessed are the undefiled in the way, that
walk in the law of the Lord."

The terrible nature of the defeat which the Israelites suffered on this
day from the Philistines is apparent from what is said in the seventh
verse--"And when the men of Israel that were on the other side of the
valley, and they that were beyond Jordan, saw that the men of Israel
fled, and that Saul and his sons were dead, they forsook their cities
and fled; and the Philistines came and dwelt in them." The plain of
Esdraelon is interrupted, and in a sense divided into two, by three
hills--Tabor, Gilboa, and Little Hermon. On the eastern side of these
hills the plain is continued on to the Jordan valley. The effect of the
battle of Gilboa was that all the rich settlements in that part of the
plain had to be forsaken by the Israelites and given up to the
Philistines. More than that, the Jordan valley ceased to afford the
protection which up to this time it had supplied against enemies from
the west. For the most part, the trans-Jordanic tribes were exposed to
quite a different set of enemies. It was the Syrians from the north, the
Moabites and the Ammonites from the east, and the Midianites and
Amalekites from the remoter deserts, that were usually the foes of
Reuben, Gad, and Manasseh. But on this occasion a new foe assailed them.
The Philistines actually crossed the Jordan, and the rich pastures of
Gilead and Bashan, with the flocks and herds that swarmed upon them,
became the prey of the uncircumcised. Thus the terror of the
Philistines, hitherto confined to the western portion of the country,
was spread, with all its attendant horrors, over the length and breadth
of Israel. We get a vivid view of the state of the country when David
was called to take charge of it. And we get a vivid view of the worse
than embarrassment, the fatal crime, into which David would have been
led if he had remained in the Philistine camp and taken any part in this
campaign.

How utterly crushed the Philistines considered the Israelites to be, and
how incapable of striking any blow in their own defence, is apparent
from the humiliating treatment of the bodies of Saul and his sons, the
details of which are given in this chapter and in the parallel passage
in 1 Chronicles (chap. x.). If there had been any possibility of the
Israelites being stung into a new effort by the dishonour done to their
king and princes, that dishonour would not have been so terribly
insulting. But there was no such possibility. The treatment was doubly
insulting. Saul's head, severed from his body, was put in the temple of
Dagon (1 Chron. x.); his armour was hung up in the house of Ashtaroth;
and his body was fastened to the wall of Beth-shan. The same treatment
seems to have been bestowed on his three sons. The other part of the
insult arose from the idolatrous spirit in which all this was done. The
tidings of the victory were ordered to be carried to the house of their
idols as well as to their people (1 Sam. xxxi. 9). The trophies were
displayed in the temples of these idols. The spirit of vaunting, which
had so roused David against Goliath because he defied the armies of the
living God, appeared far more offensively than ever. Not only was Israel
defeated, but in the view of the Philistines Israel's God as well. Dagon
and Ashtaroth had triumphed over Jehovah. The humiliation suffered in
the days when the ark of God brought such calamities to them and their
gods was now amply avenged. The image of Dagon was not found lying on
its face, all shattered save the stump, after the heads of Saul and his
sons had been placed in his temple. Yes, and the nobles at least of the
Philistines would boast that the slaughter of Goliath by David, and the
placing of his head and his armour near Jerusalem--probably in the holy
place of Israel--were amply avenged. Well was it for David, we may say
again, that he had no share in this terrible battle! Henceforth
undoubtedly there would be no more truce on his part towards the
Philistines. Had they not dishonoured the person of his king? had they
not insulted the dead body of Jonathan his noble friend? had they not
hurled new defiance against the God of Israel? had they not spread
robbery and devastation over the whole length and breadth of the
country, and turned every happy family into a group of cowering slaves?
Were this people to be any longer honoured with his friendship? "O my
soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their assembly, mine honour,
be not thou united!"

The only redeeming incident, in all this painful narrative, is the
spirited enterprise of the men of Jabesh-gilead, coming to Beth-shan by
night, removing the bodies of Saul and his sons from the wall, and
burying them with all honour at Jabesh. Beth-shan was a considerable
distance from Gilboa, where Saul and his sons appear to have fallen;
but probably it was the largest city in the neighbourhood, and therefore
the best adapted to put the remains of the king and the princes to open
shame. Jabesh-gilead was somewhere on the other side of the Jordan,
distant from Beth-shan several miles. It was highly creditable to its
people that, after a long interval, the remembrance of Saul's first
exploit, when he relieved them from the cruel threats of the Ammonites,
was still strong enough to impel them to the gallant deed which secured
honourable burial for the bodies of Saul and his sons. We are conscious
of a reverential feeling rising in our hearts toward this people as we
think of their kindness to the dead, as if the whole human race were one
family, and a kindness done nearly three thousand years ago were in some
sense a kindness to ourselves.

That first exploit of Saul's, rescuing the men of Jabesh-gilead, seems
never to have been surpassed by any other enterprise of his reign. As we
now look back on the career of Saul, which occupies so large a portion
of this book, we do not find much to interest or refresh us. He belonged
to the order of military kings. He was not one of those who were devoted
to the intellectual, or the social, or the religious elevation of his
kingdom. His one idea of a king was to rid his country of its enemies.
"He fought," we are told, "against all his enemies on every side,
against Moab, and against the children of Ammon, and against Edom, and
against the king of Zobah, and against the Philistines: and
whithersoever he turned himself he vexed them. And he did valiantly and
smote Amalek, and delivered Israel out of the hands of them that spoiled
them." That success gave him a good name as king, but it did not draw
much affection to him; and it had more effect in ridding the people of
evil than in conferring on them positive good. Royalty bred in Saul what
it bred in most kings of the East, an imperious temper, a despotic will.
Even in his own family he played the despot. And if he played the despot
at home he did so not less in public. All that we can say in his favour
is, that he did not carry his despotism so far as many. But his jealous
and in so far despotic temper could not but have had an evil effect on
his people. We cannot suppose that when jealousy was so deep in his
nature David was the only one of his officers who experienced it. The
secession of so many very able men to David, about the time when he was
with the Philistines, looked as if Saul could not but be jealous of any
man who rose to high military eminence. That Saul was capable of
friendly impulses is very different from saying that his heart was warm
and winning. The most vital want in him was the want of godliness. He
had little faith in the nation as God's nation, God's heritage. He had
little love for prophets, or for men of faith, or for any who attached
great importance to moral and spiritual considerations. His persecution
of David and his murder of the priests are deep stains than can never be
erased. And that godless nature of his became worse as he went on. It is
striking that the last transaction in his reign was a decided failure in
the very department in which he had usually excelled. He who had gained
what eminence he had as a military king, utterly failed, and involved
his people in utter humiliation, in that very department. His abilities
failed him because God had forsaken him. The Philistines whom he had so
often defeated crushed him in the end. To him the last act of life was
very different from that of Samson--Samson conquering in his death;
Saul defeated and disgraced in his.

Need we again urge the lesson? "Them that honour Me I will honour; but
they that despise Me shall be lightly esteemed." You dare not leave GOD
out in your estimate of the forces that bear upon your life. You dare
not give to Him a secondary place. God must have the first place in your
regards. Are you really honouring Him above all, prizing His favour,
obeying His will, trusting in His word? Are you even trying, amid many
mortifying failures, to do so? It is not the worst life that numbers
many a failure, many a confession, many a prayer for mercy and for grace
to help in time of need, provided always your heart is habitually
directed to God as the great end of existence, the Pole Star by which
your steps are habitually to be directed, the Sovereign whose holy will
must be your great rule, the Pattern whose likeness should be stamped on
your hearts, the God and Father of your Lord Jesus Christ, whose love,
and favour, and blessing are evermore the best and brightest inheritance
for all the children of men.



                             END OF VOL. 1.


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