richer in grace, as he is poorer in estate. Neither hath violence or casualty more impoverished a David, than his poverty hath enriched him. He, whose folly hath made himself miserable, is justly rewarded with neglect; but he that suffers for good, deserves so much more honor from others, as his distress is more. Our compassion or respect must be ruled, according to the cause of another's misery.

One good turn requires another. In some cases, not hurting is meritorious. He, that should examine the qualities of David's followers, must needs grant it worthy of a fee, that Nabal's flocks lay untouched in Carmel. But more, that David's soldiers were Nabal's shepherds, yea the keepers of his shepherds, gave them a just interest in that sheep-shearing feast; justly should they have been set at the upper end of the table. That. Nabal's sheep were safe, he might thank his shepherds; that his shepherds were safe, he might thank David's soldiers. It is no small benefit that we receive in a safe protection. Well may we think our substance due, where we owe ourselves.

Yet this churlish Nabal doth not only give nothing to David's messengers, but, which is worse than nothing, ill words; 'Who is David, or who is the son of Jesse? There be many servants now a-days, that break away from their masters.' David asked him bread; he giveth him stones. All Israel knew and honored their deliverer: yet this clown, to save his victuals, will needs make him a man, either of no merits or ill, either an obscure man or a fugitive.

Nothing is more cheap than good words. These Nabal might have given, and been never the poorer. If he had been resolved to shut his hands in a fear of Saul's revenge, he might have so tempered his denial, that the repulse might have been free from offence; but now his foul mouth doth not only deny, but revile. It should have been Nabal's glory, that his tribe yielded such a successor to the throne of Israel; now, in all likelihood, his envy stirs him up to disgrace that man, who surpassed him in honor and virtue, more than he was surpassed by him in wealth and ease.

Many a one speaks fair, that means ill; but when the mouth speaks foul, it argues a corrupt heart. If, with Saint James's verbal benefactors, we say only, Depart in peace, warm yourselves, fill your bellies,' we shall answer for hypocritical uncharitableness; but if we rate and curse those needy souls, whom we ought to relieve, we shall give a more fearful account of a savage cruelty, in trampling on those whom God hath humbled. If healing with good words be justly punishable, what torment is there for those that wound with evil?

David, which had all this while been in the school of patience, hath now his lesson to seek. He, who hath happily digested all the railings and persecutions of a wicked master, cannot put off this affront of a Nabal. Nothing can assuage his choler, but blood. How subject are the best of God's saints to weak passions! and, if we have the grace to ward an expected blow of temptation, how easily are we surprised with a sudden foil!

Wherefore serve these recorded weaknesses of holy men, but to strengthen us against the conscience of our infirmities? Not that we should take courage to imitate them in the evil, whereunto they have been miscarried; but we should take heart to ourselves, against the discouragement of our own evils.

The wisdom of God hath so contrived it, that, commonly, in societies, good is mixed with evil. Wicked Nabal hath in his house a wise and good servant, a prudent and worthy wife. That wise servant is careful to advertise his mistress of the danger; his prudent mistress is careful to prevent it.

The lives of all his family were now in hazard: she dares not commit this business to the fidelity of a messenger, but, forgetting her sex, puts herself into the errand. Her foot is not slow; her hand is not empty.

According to the offence, she frames her satisfaction. Her husband refused to give; she brings a bountiful gift: her husband gave ill words; she sweetens them with a meek and humble deprecation: her husband could say, 'Who is David?' she falls at his feet: her husband dismisses David's men empty; she brings her servants laden with provision; as if it had been only meant to ease the

repelled messengers of the carriage, not to scant them of the required benevolence. No wit, no art, could devise a more pithy and powerful oratory.

As all satisfaction, so hers, begins with a confession; wherein she deeply blameth the folly of her husband. She could not have been a good wife, if she had not honored her unworthy head. If a stranger should have termed him fool in her hearing, he could not have gone away in peace; now, to save his life, she is bold to acknowledge his folly it is a good disparagement that preserveth. There is the same way to our peace in heaven: the only means to escape judgment, is to complain of our own vileness.

She pleadeth her ignorance of the fact, and therein her freedom from the offence: she humbly craveth acceptation of her present, with pardon of the fault: she professeth David's honorable 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 reluctance, 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, how near their jollity is to perdition. Many times judgment 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 clear 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. Oh 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 over-merry, 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 disposition 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 had 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.

He,

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. 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 favorite of him, whose displeasure and revenge is everlasting.

How far God looks beyond our purposes! Abigail came