avenge him.  Are we therefore to say that these utterances of David are uninspired?  Not in the least: we are boldly to say that they are inspired, and by the very Spirit of God, who is the Spirit of justice and of judgment.

Doubtless there were, in after ages, far higher inspirations.  The Spirit of God was, and is gradually educating mankind, and individuals among mankind, like David, upward from lower truths to higher ones.  That is the express assertion of our Lord and of his Apostles.  But the higher and later inspiration does not make the lower and earlier false.  It does not even always supersede it altogether.  Each is true; and, for the most part, each must remain, and be respected, that they may complement each other.

Let us look at this question rationally and reverently, free from all sentimental and immoral indulgence for sin and wrong.

The first instinct of man is the Lex Talionis.  As you do to me—says the savage—so I have a right to do to you.  If you try to kill me or mine, I have a right to kill you in return.  Is this notion uninspired?  I should be sorry to say so.  It is surely the first form and the only possible first form of the sense of justice and retribution.  As a man sows so shall he reap.  If a man does wrong he deserves to be punished.  No arguments will drive that great divine law out of the human mind; for God has put it there.

After that inspiration comes a higher one.  The man is taught to say, I must not punish my enemy if I can avoid it.  God must punish him, either by the law of the land or by his providential judgments.  To this height David rises.  In a seemingly lawless age and country, under the most extreme temptation, he learns to say, ‘Blessed be God who hath kept me from avenging myself with my own hand.’

But still, it may be said, David calls down God’s vengeance on his enemies.  He has not learnt to hate the sin and yet love the sinner.  Doubtless he has not: and it may have been right for his education, and for the education of the human race through him, that he did not.  It may have been a good thing for him, as a future king; it may be a good thing for many a man now, to learn the sinfulness of sin, by feeling its effects in his own person; by writhing under those miseries of body and soul, which wicked men can, and do inflict on their fellow-creatures.

There are sins which a good man will not pity, but wage internecine war against them; sins for which he is justified, if God have called him thereto, to destroy the sinner in his sins.  The traitor, the tyrant, the ravisher, the robber, the extortioner, are not objects of pity, but of punishment; and it may have been very good for David to be taught by sharp personal experience, that those who robbed the widow and put the fatherless to death, like the lawless lords of his time; those like Saul, who smote the city of the priests for having given David food—men and women, children and sucklings, oxen and asses and sheep, with the edge of the sword; those who, like the nameless traitor who so often rouses his indignation—his own familiar friend who lifted up his heel against him—sought men’s lives under the guise of friendship: that such, I say, were persons not to be tolerated upon the face of God’s earth.  We do not tolerate them now.  We punish them by law.  We even destroy them wholesale in war, without inquiring into their individual guilt or innocence.  David was taught, not by abstract meditation in his study, but by bitter need and agony, not to tolerate them then.  If he could have destroyed them as we do now, it is not for us to say that he would have been wrong.  And what if he were indignant, and what if he expressed that indignation?  I have yet to discover that indignation against wrong is aught but righteous, noble, and divine.  The flush of rage and scorn which rises, and ought to rise in every honest heart, when we see a woman or a child ill-used, a poor man wronged or crushed—What is that, but the inspiration of Almighty God?  What is that but the likeness of Christ?  Woe to the man who has lost that feeling!  Woe to the man who can stand coolly by, and see wrong done without a shock or a murmur, or even more, to the very limits of the just laws of this land.  He may think it a fine thing so to do; a proof that he is an easy, prudent man of the world, and not a meddlesome enthusiast.  But all that it does prove is: That the Spirit of God, who is the Spirit of justice and judgment, has departed from him.

I say the Spirit of God and the likeness of Christ.  Instead of believing David’s own statement of the wrong doings of these men about him, we may say cynically, and as it seems to me most unfairly, ‘Of course there were two sides to David’s quarrels, as there are to all such; and of course he took his own side; and considered himself always in the right, and every one who differed from him in the wrong;’ and such a speech will sound sufficiently worldly-wise to pass for philosophy with some critics; but, unfortunately, he who says that of David, will be bound in all fairness to say it of our Lord Jesus Christ.

For you must remember that there was a class of sinners in Judæa, to whom our Lord speaks no word of pity or forgiveness: namely, the very men who were his own personal enemies, who were persecuting him, and going about to kill him; and that therefore, by any hard words toward them, he must have laid himself open, just as much as David laid himself open, to the imputation of personal spite.  And yet, what did he say to the scribes and Pharisees: ‘Ye go about to kill me, and therefore I am bound to say nothing harsh concerning you’?  What he did say was this: ‘Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?’

Yes; in the Son of David, as in David’s self, there was, and is, and will be for ever and ever, no weak, and really cruel indulgence; but a burning fire of indignation against all hypocrisy, tyranny, lust, cruelty, and every other sin by which men oppress, torment, deceive, degrade their fellow-men; and still more, still more, remember that, all young men, their fellow-women.  That fire burns for ever—the Divine fire of God; the fire not of hatred, but of love to mankind, which will therefore punish, and if need be, exterminate all who shall dare to make mankind the worse, whether in body or soul or mind.

But David prays God to kill his enemies.  No doubt he does.  Probably they deserved to be killed.  He does not ask, you will always remember, if you be worthy of the name of critical students of the Bible—he does not ask, as did the mediæval monks, that his enemies should go to endless torments after they died.  True or false, that is a more modern notion—and if it be applied to the Psalms, an interpolation—of which David knew nothing.  He asks simply that the men may die.  Probably he knew his own business best, and the men deserved to die; to be killed either by God or by man, as do too many in all ages.

If we take the Bible as it stands (and we have no right to do otherwise), these men were trying to kill David.  He could not, and upon a point of honour, would not kill them himself.  But he believed, and rightly, that God can punish the offender whom man cannot touch, and that He will, and does punish them.  And if he calls on God to execute justice and judgment upon these men, he only calls on God to do what God is doing continually on the face of the whole earth.  In fact, God does punish here, in this life.  He does not, as false preachers say, give over this life to impunity, and this world to the devil, and only resume the reins of moral government and the right of retribution when men die and go into the next world.  Here, in this life, he punishes sin; slowly, but surely, God punishes.  And if any of you doubt my words, you have only to commit sin, and then see whether your sin will find you out.

The whole question turns on this, Are we to believe in a living God, or are we not?