The last occasion on which we hear of the spear of Saul is one of singular interest. Before us rises the hill of Hachilah, with the dark shroud of night around it, where Saul the king and his chosen thousands lie stretched in deepest sleep. The spear of the slumbering monarch is stuck into the ground close to his pillow. We almost wonder that Saul with a conscience so stained by guilt, he being at the time actually engaged in an attempt to hunt David to the death, can sleep so soundly. He does not see the forms that have approached the spot where he lies, he does not hear the sound of their footsteps nor the stern whisper of Abishai, who stands with David beside him, "God hath delivered thine enemy into thine hand this day: now therefore let me smite him, I pray thee, with the spear even to the earth at once, and I will not smite him the second time." Saul's weapon may now be grasped by a hand that will not miss its aim, and be wielded with a deadly force that shall make no second blow needful. Surely the hour of vengeance is come! It is but just retribution that he who has thrice attempted murder with a javelin should by a javelin be smitten to the earth. So human nature might reason, so human resentment would urge; yet David spares his enemy and reverences his king. "The Lord forbid that I should stretch forth mine hand against the Lord's anointed!" David only takes the spear and the cruse of water from the bolster of the king, and bears them away as tokens that his foe has been in his power, but that he has abstained from injuring one who has inflicted the most deadly wrongs upon him. As forgiveness is one of the most difficult of all graces to exercise, and yet is indispensable to the Christian, it is well for us all, as in the sight of God, to search and try our hearts as regards our feelings towards those who have offered us injury or insult. We may take it for granted that no real Christian will deliberately seek revenge, and that there are few who habitually use the petition, "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us," who will actually refuse pardon if entreated. But I fear that we shall find that when the first ebullition of anger has boiled over, and all appears quiet again, there is a residue of "malice" left behind in many a heart that is no stranger to the fear of the Lord. "I forgive, but I cannot forget," is a very common expression, and we may generally infer from it that dregs of ill-will remain, readily stirred up to embitter the spirit, and often to colour the language and conduct.