Saul in David's power at En -gedi - The Story of Nabal - Saul a second time in David's power. (1 SAMUEL 24-

WHEN Saul once more turned upon his victim, David was no longer in the wilderness of Maon. Passing to

the north-west, a march of six or seven hours would bring him to En -gedi, "the fountain of the goat," whic h,

leaping down a considerable height in a thin cascade, converts that desert into the most lovely oasis. In this

plain, or rather slope, about one mile and a half from north to south, at the foot of abrupt limestone

mountains, sheltered from every storm, in climate the most glorious conceivable, the city of En -gedi had

stood, or, as it used to be called, Hazazon Tamar (the Cutting of the Palm-trees), perhaps the oldest place in

the world (2 Chronicles 20:2). Through this town (Genesis 14:7) the hordes of Chedorlaomer had passed;

unchanged it had witnessed the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, which must have been clearly visible

from the heights above, where the eye can sweep the whole district far up the Jordan valley, and across the

Dead Sea to the mountains of Moab. Quite close to the waters of that sea, on which the doom of judgment

has ever since rested, a scene of tropical beauty and wealth stretched, such as it is scarcely possible to

describe. Bounded by two perennial streams, between which the En -gedi itself makes its way, it must of old

have been a little paradise; the plain covered with palm-trees, the slopes up the mountains with the choicest

vineyards of Judaea, scented with camphire (Solomon Song 1:14). But all above was "wilderness," bare

round limestone hills rising from two hundred to four hundred feet, burrowed by numberless caves, to which

the entrance is sometime almost inaccessible. These were "the rocks of the wild goats," and here was the

cave - perhaps that of Wady Charitun, which is s aid to have once given shelter to no less than thirty

thousand men - where David sought safety from the pursuit of the king of Israel.

Wild, weird scenery this, and it reads like a weird story, when the king of Israel enters alone one of those

caverns, the very cave in the farthest recesses of which David and his men are hiding. Shall it be life or

death? The goal is within easy reach! They have all seen Saul coming, and now whisper it to David with

bated breath, to rid himself for ever of his persecutor. The mixture of religion and personal revenge - the

presenting it as "the day of which Jehovah had spoken unto him," is entirely true to Oriental nature and to

the circumstances. Who would let such an opportunity pass? But it is not by our own hands that we are to

be freed from our wrongs, nor is every opportunity to attain our aims, whatever they be, God-sent. There is

ever the prior question of plain duty, with which nothing else, however tempting or promising of success,

can come into conflict; and such seasons may be only those when our faith and patience are put on trial, so

as to bring it clearly before us, whether or not, quite irrespective of all else, we are content to leave

everything in the hands of God. And David conquered, as long afterwards his great Antitype overcame the

tempter, by steadfast adherence to God's known will and ordinance. Stealthily crawling along, he cut off a

corner from the robe which the king had laid aside. That was all the vengeance he took. It was with some

difficulty that David had restrained his men. And now the king had left the cave to rejoin his followers. But

still David's conscience smote him, as if he had taken undue liberty with the Lord's anointed. Climbing one

of those rocks outside the cave, whence flight would have been easy, his voice startled the king. Looking

back into the wild solitude, Saul saw behind him the man who, as his disordered passion had suggested,

was seeking his life. With humblest obeisance and in most dutiful language, David told what had just

happened. In sharp contrast with the calumnies of his enemies, he described the king's danger, and how he

had cast from him the suggestion of his murder. Then bursting into the impassioned language of loyal

affection, which had been so cruelly wronged, he held up the piece of the king's mantle which he had cut off,

as evidence of the fact that he was innocent of that of which he was accused. But if so - if he had refused to

avenge himself even in the hour of his own great danger, leaving judgment to God, and unwilling to put

forth his own hand to wickedness, since, as the common proverb had it, "wickedness proceedeth from the

wicked" - then, what was the meaning of the king's humiliating pursuit after him? Rather would he, in the

conscious innocence of his heart, now appeal to Jehovah, alike for judgment between them two, and for

personal deliverance, should these persecutions continue.