So ought we to deal with slanders and enmity. The eternal law for us in all opposition and hostility is enshrined in David's noble words and deeds. To repay evil with benefits, to abstain from retaliation when it is in our power, to keep our tongues from bitter and wounding words, to appeal to the adversary's better self, even at the cost of our own 'dignity,'--all that is not easy nor usual among professing Christians. But it ought to be. David's Lord, 'when He suffered, threatened not; but committed Himself to Him that judgeth righteously.' We are poor followers of Him, if David surpasses us in patience and magnanimity. It has taken nineteen hundred years to teach us that passive endurance is more heroic than fighting for our own hand, and that repaying scorn and hate with their like is less noble than meeting them with endless forgiveness. Psalm vii. is all but universally regarded as David's, and as belonging to this period. In it we find a clause, 'I have delivered him that without cause was mine enemy,' which may fairly be supposed to refer to the scene in the cave, and we read the same vehement protestations of innocence, the same figure of himself as a hunted wild animal, the same appeal to God's judgment, as in his remonstrance with Saul. The psalm is the poetic echo of our lesson. III. We have the momentary melting of Saul's heart. He breaks into passionate weeping. With that sudden flashing out into vehement emotion, so characteristic of him throughout, and, in these latter days of his life, so significant of enfeebled self-control, he recognises David's generous forbearance in its contrast to his own hate, which, for the moment, he feels to be causeless. There is a piteous remembrance of the days when David soothed him by song, in his mention of the sweet 'voice,' and some rekindling of ancient love in his calling him 'My son.' Then follow the sad words which confess the hopelessness of his struggle against the divine purpose, and his appeal for mercy to his house. The picture may well move solemn thoughts and pity for that scathed and solitary soul, seeing for a moment, as by a lightning flash, the madness of his course, and yet held so fast in the grip of his dark passions that he cannot shake off their tyranny.