please the nice palate of her sick brother. Even the children of kings, in those homelier times, did not scorn to put their fingers to some works of housewifery. "She took flour and did knead it, and did make cakes in his sight, and did bake the cakes, and took a pan, and poured them out before him." Had she not been sometimes used to such domestic employments, she had been now to seek; neither had this been required of her, but upon the knowledge of her skill. She doth not plead the impairing of her beauty by the scorching of the fire, nor thinks her hand too dainty for such mean services, but settles to the work, as one that had rather regard the necessities of her brother, than her own state. Only pride and idleness have banished honest and thrifty diligence out of the houses of the great.

This was not yet the dish that Amnon longed for. It was the cook, and not the cakes, which that wanton eye affected. Unlawful acts seek for secrecy; the company is dismissed, Tamar only stays. Good meaning suspects nothing; while she presents the meat she had prepared to her sick brother, herself is made a prey to his outrageous lust. The modest virgin entreats and persuades in vain: she lays before him the sin, the shame, the danger of the fact; and, since none of these can prevail, fain would win time by the suggestion of impossible hopes. Nothing but violence can stay a resolved sinner; what he cannot by entreaty, he will have by force. If the devil were not more strong in men than nature, they would never seek pleasure in violence. Amnon hath no sooner fulfilled his beastly desires, than he hates Tamar more than he loved her. Inordinate lust never ends but in discontentment; loss of spirits, and the remorse of soul, make the remembrance of that act tedious, whose expectation promised delight. If we could see the back of sinful pleasures, ere we behold their face, our hearts could not but be forestalled with a just detestation. Brutish Amnon, it was thyself whom thou shouldst have hated for this villany, not thine innocent sister! Both of you lay together, only one committed incest. What was she but a patient in that impotent fury of lust? How unjustly do carnal men misplace their affections! No man can say, whether that love or this hatred were more unreasonable. Fraud drew Tamar into the house of Amnon, force entertained her within, and drove her out. Fain would she have hid her shame where it was wrought, and may not be allowed it. That roof, under which she came with honour, and in obedience and love, may not be lent her, for the time, as a shelter of her ignominy. Never any savage could be more barbarous. Shechem had ravished Dinah; his offence did not make her odious; his affection so continued, that he is willing rather to draw blood of himself and his people, than forego her whom he had abused; Amnon, in one hour, is in the excess of love and hate, and is sick of her for whom he was sick. She that lately kept the keys of his heart, is now locked out of his doors. Unruly passions run ever into extremities, and are then best appaid, when they are furthest off from reason and moderation.

What could Amnon think would be the event of so foul a fact, which, as he had not the grace to prevent, so he hath not the care to conceal ? If he looked not so high as heaven, what could he imagine would follow hereupon, but the displeasure of a father, the danger of law, the in

dignation of a brother, the shame and outcries of the world; all which he might have hoped to avoid by secrecy and plausible courses of satisfaction. It is the just judgment of God upon presumptuous offenders, that they lose their wit, together with their honesty; and are either so blinded, that they cannot foresee the issue of their actions, or so besotted, that they do not regard it.

Poor Tamar can but bewail that which she could not keep, her virginity, not lost, but torn from her, by a cruel violence. She rends her princely robe, and lays ashes on her head, and laments the shame of another's sin, and lives more desolate than a widow, in the house of her brother Absalom.

In the meantime, what a corrosive must this news needs be to the heart of good David, whose fatherly command had, out of love, cast his daughter into the jaws of this lion! What an insolent affront must he needs construe this to be offered by a son to a father, that the father should be made the pander of his own daughter to his son! He that lay upon the ground weeping for but the sickness of an infant, how vexed do we think he was with the villany of his heir, with the ravishment of his daughter, both of them worse than many deaths: what revenge can he think of for so heinous a crime less than death; and what less than death is it to him, to think of a revenge? Rape was, by the law of God, capital; how much more when it is seconded with incest? Anger was not punishment enough for so high an offence; yet this is all that I hear of from so indulgent a father, saving that he makes up the rest with sorrow, punishing his son's outrage in himself. The better natured and more gracious a man is, the more subject he is to the danger of an over-remissness, and the excess of favour and mercy. The mild injustice is no less perilous to the commonwealth, than the cruel.

If David, perhaps out of the conscience of his own late offence, will not punish this fact, his son Absalom shall; not out of any care of justice, but in a desire of revenge. Two whole years hath this sly courtier smothered in indignation, and feigned kindness, else his invitation of Amnon, in special, had been suspected. Even gallant Absalom was a great sheep-master. The bravery and magnificence of a courtier must be built upon the grounds of frugality. David himself is bidden to this bloody sheep-shearing: it was no otherwise meant, but that the father's eyes should be the witnesses of the tragical execution of one son by another; only David's love kept him from that horrible spectacle. He is careful not to be chargeable to that son who cares not to overcharge his father's stomach with a feast of blood.

Amnon hath so quite forgot his sin, that he dares go to feast in that house where Tamar was mourning, and suspects not the kindness of him, whom he had deserved, of a brother, to make an enemy. Nothing is more unsafe to be trusted, than the fair looks of a festered heart. Where true charity or just satisfaction have not wrought a sound reconciliation, malice doth but lurk for the opportunity of an advantage.

It was not for nothing that Absalom deferred his revenge, which is now so much more exquisite, as it is longer protracted. What could be more fearful than, when Amnon's heart was merry with wine, to be suddenly stricken with death? as if this execution had been no less in

tended to the soul than to the body. How wickedly soever this was done by Absalom, yet how just was it with God, that he, who in two years' impunity would find no leisure of repentance, should now receive a punishment without possibility of repentance!

O God, thou art righteous to reckon for those sins which human partiality or negligence hath omitted; and, while thou punishest sin with sin, to punish sin with death. If either David had called Amnon to account for this villany, or Amnon had called himself, the revenge had not been so desperate. Happy is the man, that by an unfeigned repentance, acquits his soul from his known evils, and improves the days of his peace to the prevention of future vengeance, which, if it be not done, the hand of God shall as surely overtake us in judgment, as the hand of Satan hath overtaken us in miscarriage unto sin.

CONTEMPLATION VIL-ABSALOM'S RETURN AND CONSPIRACY.

ONE act of injustice draws on another: the injustice of David, in not punishing the rape of Amnon, procures the injustice of Absalom, in punishing Amnon with murder. That which the father should have justly revenged, and did not, the son revenges unjustly. The rape of a sister was no less worthy of death, than the murder of a brother; yea, this latter sin was therefore the less, because that brother was worthy of death, though by another hand; whereas that sister was guilty of nothing but modest beauty; yet he that knew this rape passed over a whole two years with impunity, dares not trust the mercy of a father in the pardon of his murder; but for three years hides his head in the court of his grandfather, the king of Geshur. Doubtless that heathenish prince gave him a kind welcome, for so meritorious a revenge of the dishonour done to his own loins.

No man can tell, how Absalom should have sped from the hands of his otherwise over-indulgent father, if he had been apprehended in the heat of the fact. Even the largest love may be over-strained, and may give a fall in the breaking: these fearful effects of lenity might perhaps have whetted the severity of David, to shut up these outrages in blood. Now this displeasure was weakened with age. Time and thoughts have digested this hard morsel. David's heart told him, that his hands had a share in this offence; that Absalom did but give that stroke which himself had wrongfully forborne; that the unrecoverable loss of one sou would be but woefully relieved with the loss of another; he therefore, that in the news of the deceased infant could change his clothes, and wash himself, and cheer up his spirits, with the resolution of, "I shall go to him, he shall not return to me," comforts himself concerning Amnon: and begins to long for Absalom.

Those three years' banishment seemed not so much a punishment to the son, as to the father. Now David begins to forgive himself: yet, out of his wisdom, so inclines to favour, that he conceals it; and yet so conceals it, that it may be descried by a cunning eye. If he had cast out no glances of affection, there had been no hopes for his Absalom; if he had made profession of love after so foul an act, there had been no safe

ty for others; now, he lets fall so much secret grace as may both hold up Absalom in the life of his hopes, and not hearten the presumption of others.

Good eyes see light through the smallest chink. The wit of Joab hath soon discerned David's reserved affection, and knows how to serve him in that which he would, and would not accomplish; and now devises how to bring into the light that birth of desire, whereof he knew David was both big, and ashamed. A woman of Tekoah (that sex hath been ever held more apt for wiles) is suborned to personate a mourner, and to say that, by way of parable, which, in plain terms, would have sounded too harshly; and now, while she lamentably lays forth the loss and danger of her son, she shows David his own; and, while she moves compassion to her pretended issue, she wins David to a pity of himself, and a favourable sentence for Absalom. We love ourselves better than others, but we see others better than ourselves: whoso would perfectly know his own case, let him view it in another's person.

Parables sped well with David: one drew him to repent of his own sin, another to remit Absalom's punishment: and now, as glad to hear this plea, and willing to be persuaded unto that, which, if he durst, he would have sought for, he gratifies Joab with the grant of that suit, which Joab more gratified him in suing for; "Go, bring again the young man Absalom."

sun,

How glad is Joab, that he hath light upon one act, for which the both setting and rising, should shine upon him! and now he speeds to Geshur, to fetch back Absalom to Jerusalem: he may bring the longbanished prince to the city; but to the court he may not bring him. "Let him turn to his own house, and let him not see my face."

The good king hath so smarted with mercy, that now he is resolved upon austerity, and will relent but by degrees; it is enough for Absalom that he lives, and may now breathe in his native air; David's face is no object for the eyes of murderers. What a darling this son was to his father, appears in that after an unnatural and barbarous rebellion, passionate David wishes to have changed lives with him; yet now, while his bowels yearned, his brow frowned: the face may not be seen where the heart is set.

The best of God's saints may be blinded with affection: but when they shall once see their errors, they are careful to correct them. Wherefore serves the power of grace, but to subdue the insolencies of nature? It is the wisdom of parents, as to hide their hearts from their best children, so to hide their countenances from the ungracious: fleshly respects may not abate their rigour to the ill-deserving. For the child to see all his father's love, it is enough to make him wanton, and of wanton wicked. For a wicked child to see any of his father's love, it emboldens him in evil, and draws on others.

Absalom's house is made his prison; justly is he confined to the place which he had stained with blood. Two years doth he live in Jerusalem, without the happiness of his father's sight; it was enough for David and him to see the smoke of each other's chimneys. In the meantime, how impatient is Absalom of this absence! He sends for Joab, the solicitor of his return; so hard a hand doth wise and holy

David carry over his reduced son, that his friendly intercessor Joab dares not visit him.

He, that afterwards kindled that seditious fire over all Israel, sets fire now on the field of Joab; whom love cannot draw to him, fear and anger shall. Continned displeasure hath made Absalom desperate; five years are passed since he saw the face of his father, and now he is no less weary of his life than of this delay. "Wherefore am I come down from Geshur? It had been better for me to have been there still. Now therefore let me see the king's face; and if there be any iniquity in me, let him kill me." Either banishment, or death, seemed as tolerable to him, as the debarring of his father's sight.

What a torment shall it be to the wicked, to be shut out for ever from the presence of a God, without all possible hopes of recovery! This was but a father of the flesh, by whom if Absalom lived at first, yet in him he lived not, yea, not without him only, but against him that son found he could live. God is the Father of spirits, in whom we so live, that without him can be no life, no being; to be ever excluded from him, in whom we live and are, what can it be, but an eternal dying, an eternal perishing? If in thy presence, O God, be the fulness of joy, in thine absence must needs be the fulness of horror and torment."Hide not thy face from us, O Lord, but show us the light of thy countenance, that we may live and praise thee."

Even the fire of Joab's field warmed the heart of David, while it gave him proof of the heat of Absalom's filial affection. As a man therefore inwardly weary of so long displeasure, at last he receives Absalom to his sight, to his favour, and seals his pardon with a kiss. Natural parents know not how to retain an everlasting anger towards the fruit of their loins; how much less shall the God of mercies be unreconcilably displeased with his own, and suffer his wrath to burn like fire that cannot be quenched! "He will not always chide, neither will he keep his anger for ever; his wrath endureth but a moment; in his favour is life; weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."

Absalom is now as great as fair; beauty and greatness make him proud; pride works his ruin: great spirits will not rest content with a moderate prosperity. Ere two years be run out, Absalom runs out into a desperate plot of rebellion; none but his own father was above him in Israel; none was so likely, in human expectation, to succeed his father. If his ambition could but have contained itself for a few years, as David was now near his period, dutiful carriage might have procured that by succession, which now he sought by force. An aspiring mind is ever impatient, and holds time itself an enemy, if it thrust itself importunately betwixt the hopes and fruition. Ambition is never but in travail, and can find no intermission of painful throes, till she have brought forth her abortive desires. How happy were we, if our affection could be so eager of spiritual and heavenly promotions! O that my soul could find itself so restless till it feel the weight of that crown of glory!

Outward pomp, and unwonted shows of magnificence, are wont much to affect the light minds of the vulgar. Absalom therefore, to the incomparable comeliness of his person, adds the unusual state of a more than princely equipage. His chariots rattle, and his horses trample proudly