plain of our own vileness: she pleadeth her | ignorance of the fact, and therein their freedom from the offence; she humbly craveth | acceptation of her present, with pardon of the fault; she professeth David's honourable acts and merits; she foretells his future success and glory; she lays before him the happy peace of his soul, in refraining from innocent blood. David's breast, which could not, through the seeds of grace, grow to a stubbornness in ill resolutions, cannot but relent with these powerful and seasonable persuasions; and now, instead of revenge, he blesseth God for sending Abigail to meet him; he blesseth Abigail for her counsel; he blesseth the counsel for so wholesome efficacy; and now rejoiceth more in being overcome with a wise and gracious advice, than he would have rejoiced in a revengeful victory.

A good heart is easily stayed from sinning, and is glad when it finds occasion to be crossed in ill purposes. Those secret checks, which are raised within itself, do readily conspire with all outward retentives: it never yielded to a wicked motion, without much reluctation; and when it is overcome, it is but with half a consent: whereas perverse and obdurate sinners, by reason they take full delight in evil, and have already in their conceit swallowed the pleasure of sin, abide not to be resisted, running on headily in those wicked courses they have propounded, in spite of opposition; and, if they be forcibly stopped in their way, they grow sullen and mutinous. David had not only vowed, but deeply sworn, the death of Nabal, and all his family, to the very dog that lay at his door; yet now he praiseth God, that hath given the occasion and grace to violate it. Wicked vows are ill made, but worse kept. Our tongue cannot tie us to commit sin. Good men think themselves happy, that since they had not the grace to deny sin, yet they had not the opportunity to accomplish it. If Abigail had sat still at home, David had sinned, and she had died. Now her discreet admonition hath preserved her from the sword, and diverted him from bloodshed. And now, what thanks, what benedictions, hath she for this seasonable counsel? How should it encourage us to admonish our brethren, to see that, if we prevail, we have blessings from them; if we prevail not, we have yet blessings from God, and thanks of our own hearts!

How near was Nabal to a mischief, and perceives it not! David was coming to the foot of the hill to cut his throat, while he was feasting in his house without fear.

Little do sinners know now near their jollity is to perdition. Many times judg ment is at the threshold, while drunkenness and surfeit are at the board. Had he been any other than a Nabal, he had not sat down to feast, till he had been sure of his peace with David. Either not to expect danger, or not to ciear it, was sottish; so foolish are carnal men, that give themselves over to their pleasures, while there are deadly quarrels depending against them in heaven. There is nothing wherein wisdom is more seen, than in the temperate use of prosperity. A Nabal cannot abound but he must be drunk and surfeit. Excess is a true argument of folly. We use to say, that when drink is in, wit is out; but if wit were not out, drink would not be in.

It was no time to advise Nabal, while his reason was drowned in a deluge of wine. A beast, or a stone, is as capable of good counsel as a drunkard. O that the noblest creature should so far abase himself, as, for a little liquor, to lose the use of those faculties whereby he is a man! Those, that have to do with drink or frenzy, must be glad to watch times; so did Abigail, who, the next morning, presents to her husband the view of his faults, of his danger; he then sees how near he was to death, and felt it not. That worldly mind is so apprehensive of the death that should have been, as that he dies to think that he had like to have died. Who would think a man could be so affected with a danger past, and yet so senseless of a future, yea, imminent? He that was yesternight as a beast, is now as a stone: he was then overmerry, now dead and lumpish. Carnal hearts are ever in extremities: if they be once down, their dejection is desperate, because they have no inward comfort to mitigate their sorrow. What difference there was betwixt the dispositions of David and Nabal! How oft had David been in the valley of the shadow of death, and feared no evil! Nabal is but once put in mind of a death that might have been, and is stricken dead.

It is just with God, that they who live without grace, should die without comfort; neither can we expect better, while we go on in our sins. The speech of Abigail smote Nabal into a qualm: that tongue hath doubtless oft advised him well, and prevailed not; now it occasions his death, whose reformation it could not effect: she meant nothing but his amendment; God meant to make that loving instrument the means of his revenge. She speaks, and God strikes; and within ten days, that swoon

ends in death. And now Nabal pays dear for his uncharitable reproach, for his riotous excess. That God, which would not suffer David to right himself by his own sword, takes the quarrel of his servant into his own hand: David hath now his ends without sin, rejoicing in the just executions of God, who would neither suffer him to sin in revenging, nor suffer his adversaries to sin unrevenged.

Our loving God is more angry with the wrongs done to his servants than themselves can be, and knows how to punish that justly, which we could not undertake without wronging God more than men have wronged us. He that saith, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay," repays ofttimes when we have forgiven, when we have forgotten; and calls to reckoning after our discharges. It is dangerous offending any favourite of him whose displeasure and revenge is everlasting.

How far God looks beyond our purposes! Abigail came only to plead for an ill husband, and now God makes this journey a preparation for a better: so that, in one act, she preserved an ill husband, and won a good one for the future. David well remembers her comely person, her wise speeches, her graceful carriage; and now, when modesty found it seasonable, he sends to sue her who had been his suppliant. She entreated for her husband; David treats with her for his wife. Her request was to escape his sword; he wisheth her to his bed. It was a fair suit to change a David for a Nabal; to become David's queen, instead of Nabal's drudge. She that learned humility under so hard a tutor, abaseth herself no less when David offers to advance her: "Let thine handmaid be a servant, to wash the feet of the servants of my lord." None are so fit to be great, as those that can stoop lowest. How could David be more happy in a wife? he finds at once piety, wisdom, humility, faithfulness, wealth, beauty. How could Abigail be more happy in a husband, than in the prophet, the champion, the anointed of Ġod? Those marriages are well made, wherein virtues are matched, and happiness is mutual.

CONTEMPLATION III. DAVID AND ACHISH.

GOOD motions that fall into wicked nearts are like some sparks that fall from the flint and steel into wet tinder, lightsome for the time, but soon out. After Saul's tears and protestations, yet he is now again in the wilderness, with three thousand men, to

hunt after innocent David. How invincible is the charity and loyalty of an honest heart! The same hand that spared Saul in the cave, spares him sleeping in the field: the same hand that cut away the lap of his master's garment, carries away his spear; that spear, which might as well have carried away the life of the owner, is only borne away for the proof of the fidelity of the bearer. Still Saul is strong, but David victorious, and triumphs over the malice of his persecutor: yet still the victor flieth from him whom he hath overcome. A man that sees how far Saul was transported with his rancorous envy, cannot but say, that he was never more mad than when he was sober. For, even after he had said, "Blessed art thou, my son David, thou shalt do great things, and also prevail;" yet still he pursues him whom he grants assured to prevail. What is this, but to resolve to lose his labour in sinning, and in spite of himself to offend ? How shameful is our inequality of disposition to good! We know we cannot miss of the reward of well-doing, and yet do it not. While wicked men cast away their endeavours upon evil projects, whereof they are sure to fail, sin blinds the eyes and hardens the heart, and thrusts men into wilful mischiefs, however dangerous, however impossible, and never leaves them till it have brought them to utter confusion.

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The over-long continuance of a temptation may easily weary the best patience, and may attain that by protraction which it could never do by violence. David himself at last begins to bend under this trial, and resolves so to fly from Saul, as he runs from the church of God; and, while he will avoid the malice of his master, joins himself with God's enemies. The greatest saints upon earth are not always upon the same pitch of spiritual strength: he that sometimes said, "I will not be afraid of ten thousands," now says, I shall perish one day by the hand of Saul." He had wont to consult with God; now he says thus in his own heart. How many evident experiments had David of God's deliverances how certain and clear predictions of his future kingdom! how infallible an earnest was the holy oil wherewith he was anointed to the crown of Israel! And yet David said in his heart, "I shall now perish one day by the hand of Saul." The best faith is but like the twilight, mixed with some degrees of darkness and infidelity. We do utterly misreckon the greatest earthly holiness, if we exempt it from infirmities. It is not long since David told Saul, that those wicked enemies of his, which cast

him out from abiding in the inheritance of the Lord, did as good bid him, Go serve other gods; yet now is he gone from the inheritance of God into the land of the Philistines. That Saul might seek him no more, he hides himself out of the list of the church, where a good man would not look for him. Once before had David fled to this Achish, when he was glad to scrabble on the doors, and let his spittle fall upon his beard, in a semblance of madness, that he might escape: yet now, in a semblance of friendship, is he returned to save that life which he was in danger to have lost in Israel. Goliah, the champion of the Philistines, whom David slew, was of Gath: yet David dwells with Achish, king of the Philistines, in Gath; even amongst them whose foreskins he had presented to Saul, by two hundreds at once, doth David choose to reside for safety. Howsoever it was weakness in David, thus, by his league of amity, to strengthen the enemies of God; yet doth not God take advantage of it for his overthrow, but gives him protection even where his presence offended, and gives him favour where himself bore just hatred. O the infinite patience and mercy of our God, who doth good to us for our evil, and, in the very act of our provocation, upholdeth, yea blesseth us with preservation!

Could Saul have rightly considered it, he had found it no small loss and impairing to his kingdom, that so valiant a captain, attended with six hundred able soldiers and their families, should forsake his land, and join with his enemies: yet he is not quiet till he have abandoned his own strength. The world hath none so great an enemy to a wicked man as himself: his hands cannot be held from his own mischief: he will needs make his friends enemies, his enemies victors, himself miserable.

David was too wise to cast himself into the hands of a Philistine king, without assurance: what assurance could he have but promises? Those David had from Saul abundantly, and trusted them not: he dares trust the fidelity of a pagan; he dares not trust the vows of a king of Israel. There may be fidelity without the church, and falsehood within. It need not be any news to find some Turks true, and some Christians faithless.

It had not been possible for so noted a stranger, after so much Philistine bloodshed, to live long in such an eminency amongst the press of those, whose sons, or brothers, or fathers, or allies, he had slaughtered, without some perilous machination of his ruin; therefore he makes suit for an early remove: "For why should thy servant dwell in the chief city of the kingdom with thee?" Those that would stand sure, must not affect too much height, or conspicuity: the tall cedars are most subject to winds and lightnings, while the shrubs of the valleys stand unmoved. Much greatness doth but make a fairer mark for evil. There is true firmness and safety in mediocrity.

How rarely is it seen that a man loseth by his modesty! The change fell out well to David, of Ziklag for Gath: now he hath a city of his own; all Israel, where he was anointed, afforded him not so much possession. Now the city, which was anciently assigned to Judah, returns to the just owner, and is, by this means, entailed to the crown of David's successors. Besides that, now might David live out of the sight and hearing of the Philistine idolatries, and enjoy God no less in the walls of a Philistine city than in an Israelitish wilderness: withal, a happy opportunity was now opened to his friends of Israel to resort unto his aid: the heads of the thousands that were of Manasseh, and many valiant captains of the other tribes, fell daily to him, and raised his six hundred followers to an army like the host of God. The deserts of Israel could never have yielded David so great an advantage. That God, whose the earth is, makes room for his own everywhere, and ofttimes provideth them a foreign home more kindly than the native. It is no matter for change of our soil, so we change not our God: if we can everywhere acknowledge him, he will nowhere be wanting to us.

There is no safety in protraction: with men, delay causeth forgetfulness, or abates the force of anger, as all violent motions are weakest at the furthest; but with Him, to whom all times are present, what can be gained by prorogation? Alas! what can it avail any of the cursed seed of Canaan, that they have made a truce with heaven, and a league with hell? Their day is coming, and is not the further off, because they expect it not.

Miserable were the straits of David, while he was driven not only to maintain his army by spoil, but to colour his spoil by a sinful dissimulation he tells Achish, that he had been roving against the south of Judah, and the south of the Jerahmeelites, and the south of the Kenites, either falsely or doubtfully, so as he meant to deceive him under whom he lived, and by whom he was trusted. If Achish were a Philistine, yet he was David's friend, yea his patron; and if he had been neither, it had not become David to be false. The infirmities of God's children never appear but in their extremities. It is hard for the best man to say how far he will be tempted. If a man will put himself among Philistines, he cannot promise to come forth innocent.

How easily do we believe that which we wish! The more credit Achish gives unto David, the more sin it was to deceive him. And now the conceit of this engagement procures him a further service. The Philistines are assembled to fight with Israel; Achish dares trust David on his side, yea, to keep his head for ever; neither can David do any less than promise his aid against his own flesh. Never was David, in all his life, driven to so hard an exigent; never was he so extremely perplexed: for what should he do now? To fight with Achish, he was tied by promise, by merit; not to fight against Israel, he was tied by his call

ing, by his unction: not to fight for Achish were to be unthankful; to fight against Israel, were to be unnatural. O what an inward battle must David needs have in his breast, when he thinks of this battle of Israel and the Philistines! How doth he wish now, that he had rather stood to the hazard of Saul's persecution, than to have put himself upon the favour of Achish: he must fight on one side, and on whether side soever he should fight, he could not avoid to be treacherous; a condition worse than death to an honest heart. Which way he would have resolved, if it had come to the execution, who can know, since himself was doubtful? Either course had been no better than desperate. How could the Israelites ever have received him for their king, who, in the open field, had fought against them? And, contrarily, if he would have fought against his friend for his enemy, against Achish for Saul, he was now environed with jealous Philistines, and might rather look for the punishment of his treason, than the glory of a victory.

His heart had led him into these straits; the Lord finds a way to lead him out: the suggestions of his enemies do herein befriend him; the princes of the Philistines, whether of envy or suspicion, plead for David's dismission: "Send this fellow back, that he may go again to his place which thou hast appointed him; and let him not go down to the battle, lest he be an adversary to us." No advocate could have said more; himself durst not have said so much. O the wisdom and goodness of our God, that can raise up an adversary to deliver out of those evils, which our friends cannot! that, by the sword of an enemy, can let out that apostume, which no physician could tell how to cure! It would be wide with us sometimes, if it were not for others' malice.

There could not be a more just question, than this of the Philistine princes: "What do these Hebrews here?" An Israelite is out of his element, when he is in an army of Philistines. The true servants of God are in their due places, when they are in opposition to his enemies. Profession of hostility becomes them better than leagues of amity.

Yet Achish likes David's conversation and presence so well, that he professeth himself pleased with him, as with an angel of God. How strange it is to hear, that a Philistine should delight in that holy man whom an Israelite abhors, and should be loath to be quit of David whom Saul hath expelled! Terms of civility are equally open

to all religions, to all professions: the com- | mon graces of God's children are able to attract love from the most obstinate enemies of goodness: If we affect them for byrespects of valour, wisdom, discourse, wit, it is their praise, not ours; but if for divine grace and religion, it is our praise with theirs.

Such now was David's condition, that he must plead for that he feared, and argue against that which he desired: "What have I done, and what hast thou found in thy servant, that I may not go and fight against the enemies of my lord the king?" Never any news could be more cordial to him than this of his dismission; yet must he seem to strive against it, with an importunate profession of his forwardness to that act which he most detested.

One degree of dissimulation draws on another; those which have once given way to a faulty course, cannot easily either stop or turn back, but are, in a sort, forced to second their ill beginnings with worse proceedings. It is a dangerous and miserable thing to cast ourselves into those actions, which draw with them a necessity either of offending or miscarriage.

CONTEMPLATION IV.-SAUL AND THE WITCH OF ENDOR.

EVEN the worst men may sometimes make head against some sins. Saul hath expelled the sorcerers out of the land of Israel, and hath forbidden magic upon pain of death. He that had no care to expel Satan out of his own heart, yet will seem to drive him out of his kingdom. That we see wicked men oppose themselves to some sins, there is neither marvel nor comfort in it. No doubt Satan made sport at this edict of Saul: what cares he to be banished in sorcery, while he is entertained in malice? He knew and found Saul his, while he resisted; and smiled to yield thus far unto his vassal. If we quit not all sins, he will be content we should either abandon or persecute some.

Where there is no place for holy fear, there will be place for the servile. The graceless heart of Saul was astonished at the Philistines; yet was never moved at the frowns of that God whose anger sent them, nor of those sins of his which procured them. Those that cannot fear for love, shall tremble for fear; and how much better is awe than terror, prevention than confusion! There is nothing more lamentable than to see a man laugh when he should

fear: God shall laugh when such a one's fear cometh.

Extremity of distress will send even the profanest man to God; likeas the drowning man reacheth out his hand to that bough, which he contemned while he stood safe on the bank. Saul now asketh counsel of the Lord, whose prophet he hated, whose priests he slew, whose anointed he persecutes. Had Saul consulted with God when he should, this evil had not been; but now, if this evil had not been, he had not consulted with God: the thank of this act is due, not to him, but to his affliction. A forced piety is thankless and unprofitable; God will not answer him, neither by dreams, nor by Urim, nor by prophets. Why should God answer that man by dreams, who had resisted him waking? Why should he answer him by Urim, that had slain his priests? Why should he answer him by prophets, who hated the Father of the prophets, and rebelled against the word of the prophets?

It is an unreasonable inequality to hope to find God at our command, when we would not be at his; to look that God should regard our voice in trouble, when we would not regard his in peace.

Unto what mad shifts are men driven by despair! If God will not answer, Satan shall. Saul said to his servants, "Seek me a woman that hath a familiar spirit." If Saul had not known this course devilish, why did he decree to banish it, to mulct it with death? yet now, against the stream of his conscience, he will seek to those whom he had condemned: there needs no other judge of Saul's act than himself; had he not before opposed this sin, he had not so heinously sinned in committing it. There cannot be a more fearful sign of a heart given up to a reprobate sense, than to cast itself wilfully into those sins which it hath proclaimed to detest. The declinations to evil are many times insensible; but when it breaks forth into such apparent effects, even other eyes may discern it. What was Saul the better to foreknow the issue of his approaching battle? If this consultation could have strengthened him against his enemies, or promoted his victory, there might have been some colour for so foul an act: now, what could he gain, but the satisfying of his bootless curiosity, in foreseeing that which he should not be able to avoid?

Foolish men give away their souls for nothing. The itch of impertinent and unprofitable knowledge hath been the hereditary disease of the sons of Adam and Eve. How many have perished, to know that which hath procured their perishing! How ambi