his gracious condescension, his sympathy with the poor and the oppressed, and the advantages that might be expected from his reign. In the striking words of the sacred historian, 'So Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel'-stole the hearts that belonged to his father.

When all appeared ripe for action, Absalom repaired to Hebron with 200 men, and after seizing that strong town-the metropolis of David's first kingdom-he caused himself to be proclaimed king, by sound of trumpet, in several parts of Israel at once. The king was confounded and dismayed at the suddenness of the outbreak, and apparently wide disaffection to his government and person which its extent implied. As news came to him that one place after another had proclaimed Absalom, he felt as if all were falling away from him, and that he could rely only upon the foreign guards, whom, under the names of Gittites, Cherethites, and Pelethites, he had in the course of years gathered around his person. With these he marched out of Jerusalem, purposing, if need were, to proceed to the country beyond the Jordan, and there collect his resources and watch the progress of events. From the people beyond the river he had received many proofs of attachment, and his wars had brought him much into connection with them, and had materially advanced their prosperity; and he thought that he might count on their fidelity. The geographical position was also well suited to his purpose; and the step seems to have been, under all the circumstances, the best that could have been taken.

Even in departing, the king received many proofs of attachment, which must have refreshed his heart. Some, indeed, might be supposed to serve his cause better by remaining at Jerusalem than by going with him. Among them was Hushai, an esteemed friend, who was prevailed upon to return, for the express purpose of endeavouring to neutralize the counsels of Ahithophel, a crafty but most able man, who had been high in the councils of David, and whose defection seems to have disturbed him more than any single incident of this melancholy affair. Such faith had he in this man's sagacity, that he appre

hended Absalom's chief power lay in the possession of such a counsellor; and hence his anxiety to prevent his advice from being followed. This perilous mission was undertaken by Hushai; and he performed it well.

The sympathy of the priestly body was also entirely with David. Both the high priests, Abiathar and Zadok, were not only prepared to go with him, but they caused the ark of the covenant to be brought out, to be borne away with the king. David was deeply affected at this sight; but he declined to avail himself of the advantage which the presence of the ark and of the high priests would have given to his cause. He directed them to take it back, and to remain themselves in the city. Carry back the ark of God into the city,' he said; ‘if I shall find favour in the eyes of the Lord, He will bring me again, and show me both it and his holy habitation.'

It was, nevertheless, a hard thing thus to be compelled to wander forth in his old age from his beloved city, his pleasant home, and the place of the Lord's tabernacle; and to find himself thus forsaken by his own subjects, who owed so much to him, and by the friends in whom he had trusted; and all this at the instance and by the contrivance of the son whom he loved so well. No wonder that he departed as a mourner. 'David went up by the ascent of Mount Olivet, and wept as he went up, and had his head covered; and he went barefoot: and all the people that was with him covered every man his head, and they went up, weeping as they went up.' No more striking picture of a great man under adversity was ever drawn than these simple words portray. The conduct of David throughout—his goodness, resignation, and patience— is clearly evinced in all these trying scenes. This, as Dr Chalmers observes, 'marks strongly his subdued and right spirit; partly induced, we doubt not, by the humility of his own conscious transgressions. He fell, but it was the fall of the upright, and he rose again; submitting himself meekly, and in the meantime, to the will of God.'

His patience had a further trial on the way. As he went on by the pass of Bahurim, one Shimei, a relation of Saul, cast

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stones and bitter curses at him, as one whom vengeance had at last overtaken, for all the evil he had done to the house of Saul. The indignation of Abishai was naturally roused at this; and with the instinctive impulse of the sons of Zeruiah towards blood, he begged David to let him go over and take off the venomous scoundrel's head. But David saw the hand of God even in this, and he refused. 'Behold, my son seeketh my life; how much more now may this Benjamite do it? Let him alone, and let him curse, for the Lord hath bidden him. It may be that the Lord will look upon mine affliction, and that the Lord will requite me good for his cursing this day.' This was the true spirit which makes chastisement profitable. David is always great in affliction. His soul is prospering largely amid these circumstances of mental trial and personal suffering.

So David pursued his sorrowful way until he reached the plains of Jericho and the banks of the Jordan, where he awaited such tidings as might direct his further course.

This graphic narrative exhibits the character of David in a new light. A total change has taken place. His old lion heart is completely subdued. In former days, the imminence of danger and the cry to arms would have only served to call into action his splendid military genius, and to rouse his warlike spirit. Now he seems paralyzed by the first murmur of rebellion. He flies in terror even before the enemy appears. One feels inclined to pity his weakness rather than to admire his submission. He would have given way altogether to despair, had it not been for the encouraging words of his devoted followers. The first gleam of hope in his breast was kindled by the sudden appearance of Hushai the Archite.

What was it which produced a change so marked and so melancholy? The answer is not difficult. Conscience made a coward of him. David was a heart-broken man. His own great sin had crushed him to the dust, and had filled him with an overwhelming sense of shame. Those who in former times all but idolized him, now saw his weakness, and were, by a wily and plausible and fascinating prince, taught to despise him. The feuds that distracted his family, and the crimes that stained his hearth with blood, he probably regarded as the righteous judgments of Heaven upon himself; and Absalom's unnatural rebellion he perhaps looked

upon as the natural result of his own indulgence of a wild youth, and neglect of due parental training. With a heart swelling with feelings of self-reproach, and deep sorrow, and fear for the kingdom, and affectionate solicitude for a misguided and ungrateful child, it is not strange that David, as he turned away from his home and his capital, 'wept as he went up' the side of Olivet, and buried his face in his mantle.

Every stage and every incident of that mournful journey is detailed with great simplicity, and yet with graphic power. More than once I have followed David's footsteps, noting each welldefined spot, his station at 'the farthest house' ('a place that was far off,' ver. 17), on the brow of Moriah, where his body-guard and the people passed in mournful procession, and where Ittai the Gittite gave such a proof of his devotion; then the bridge over the Kidron; then the old way of the wilderness' up the side of Olivet, where the priests bearing the ark overtook the king; then the summit of the mount where the faithful Hushai' came to meet him, with his coat rent, and earth upon his head ;' then the place, a little past the top,' on the eastern declivity, where Ziba appeared with his present, and his deceitful story. The city was now hid from view, and the bleak wilderness of Judah in front, with the deep valley of the Jordan far below, and the blue range of Gilead away beyond. It did not need the reproaches and curses of Shimei to make the monarch fully conscious of his fallen fortunes, as he hastened on through the desert to seek an asylum amid the fastnesses of Gilead.

Thirty-ninth Week-Third Day.

TWO HANGINGS. .—2 SAMUEL XVI. 15-XIX. 8.

SOON after his father's departure, Absalom marched into Jerusalem, and took possession of the palace and the treasures of the crown. Absalom knew how relentless his own purposes were towards that father, whose love he possessed without measure; he knew how firm was his own resolve to reign. Yet he gave the people credit for not believing how black his own heart was—for supposing that there was yet in his breast some sense of filial duty, some gleams of filial tenderness. But,

instead of being gratified that people thought better of him than he deserved, he was disturbed by it. He feared that, in contemplation of possible circumstances which might bring about a reconciliation between him and his father, and leave his supporters open to the resentment of David, many would be afraid to commit themselves to his cause. He was therefore ready to adopt any means, however atrocious, which might convince those inclined to support him, that they would never be compromised by any reconciliation between him and his greatly wronged father. The means suggested by the Satanic 'wisdom' of Ahithophel were most effectual, but most atrocious. It was, that Absalom should take public possession of the 'concubines' whom David had left behind in charge of the palace: his wives he had probably taken with him. This counsel was followed; and the people were satisfied that this deed had rendered all reconcilement between David and his son impossible.

Absalom's next step was to attempt his father's destruction, in the conviction that his own throne would never be secure so long as he lived. The son had no relentings. He had knowingly subjected himself to the inevitable necessity of taking his father's life, and he only desired to learn how that object might be most effectually secured. A council was held on this question, and it is the first cabinet council to which history admits us. It was, doubtless, conducted in the same form as other royal councils; and from the instance before us, it appears that the members who had anything to suggest, or rather such as the king called upon for their opinion, described the course they thought best suited to the circumstances. The council at large then expressed its collective opinion upon the advice thus offered, and recommended that course to the king. It does not appear whether or not the king was regarded as bound to follow the advice so tendered; but it seems to have been generally followed-the king probably disliking to take the responsibility of acting on his individual opinion in opposition to the collective wisdom of his council. This 'collective wisdom' is seldom other than the wisdom of one man, who