not, like unto lands, inheritable. All that is traduced with the seed, is either evil or not good. Let no man brag with the Jews, that he hath Abraham to his father; God hath raised up of this stone a son to Caleb.

Abigail (which signifieth her father's joy) had sorrow enough to be matched with so unworthy, an husband. If her father had meant she should have had joy in herself or in her life, he had not disposed her La to an husband, though rich, yet fond and wicked; it is like he married her to the wealth, not to the man. Many a child is cast away upon rich. es. Wealth, in our matches, should be as some grains or scruples in the balance, superadded to the gold of virtuous qualities, to weigh down the scales; when it is made the substance of the weight, and good qualities the appendance, there is but one earth poised with another, which, wheresoever it is done, it is a wonder if either the children prove not the parents' sorrow, or the parents theirs.

Nabal's sheep-shearing was famous; three thousand fleeces must needs require many hands; neither is any thing more plentiful, commonly, than a churl's feast. What a world was this, that the noble champion and rescuer of Israel, God's anointed, is driven to send to a base carle for victuals! It is no measuring of men by the depth of the purse, by outward prosperity. Servants are ofttimes set on horseback, while princes go on foot. Our estimation must be led by their inward worth, which is not alterable by time, nor diminished with external conditions.

One rag of a David is more worth than the wardrobes of a thousand Nabals. Even the best deservings may want. No man should be contemned for his necessity; perhaps he may be so much 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 honour 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 sheepshearing 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 honoured 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 honour 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 St 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 tor ment 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 up this affront of s 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 provisions, 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 honoured 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 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 sworn, 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. 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 wordly 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 yester night 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 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 affect: 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 God? Those marriages are well made, wherein virtues are matched, and happiness is mutual.

CONTEMPLATION III-DAVID AND ACHISH.

GOOD motions that fall into wicked hearts, 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, carried 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.

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 inheritence 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, ne 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