THE EXPOSITOR'S BIBLE. Edited by Rev. W. R. NICOLL, D.D., Editor of
_London Expositor_.
1ST SERIES IN 6 VOLS.
=MACLAREN, Rev. Alex.=--COLOSSIANS--PHILEMON.
=DODS, Rev. Marcus.=--GENESIS.
=CHADWICK, Rev. Dean.=--ST. MARK.
=BLAIKIE, Rev. W. G.=--SAMUEL, 2 VOLS.
=EDWARDS, Rev. T. C.=--HEBREWS.
2D SERIES IN 6 VOLS.
=SMITH, Rev. G. A.=--ISAIAH, VOL. I.
=ALEXANDER, Bishop.=--EPISTLES OF ST. JOHN.
=PLUMMER, Rev. A.=--PASTORAL EPISTLES.
=FINDLAY, Rev. G. G.=--GALATIANS.
=MILLIGAN, Rev. W.=--REVELATION.
=DODS, Rev. Marcus.=--1ST CORINTHIANS.
3D SERIES IN 6 VOLS.
=SMITH, Rev. G. A.=--ISAIAH, VOL. II.
=GIBSON, Rev. J. M.=--ST. MATTHEW.
=WATSON, Rev. R. A.=--JUDGES--RUTH.
=BALL, Rev. C. J.=--JEREMIAH. CHAP. I-XX.
=CHADWICK, Rev. Dean.=--EXODUS.
=BURTON, Rev. H.=--ST. LUKE.
4TH SERIES IN 6 VOLS.
=KELLOGG, Rev. S. H.=--LEVITICUS.
=STOKES, Rev. G. T.=--ACTS, VOL. I.
=HORTON, Rev. R. F.=--PROVERBS.
=DODS, Rev. Marcus.=--GOSPEL ST. JOHN, VOL. I.
=PLUMMER, Rev. A.=--JAMES--JUDE.
=COX, Rev. S.=--ECCLESIASTES.
5TH SERIES IN 6 VOLS.
=DENNEY, Rev. J.=--THESSALONIANS.
=WATSON, Rev. R. A.=--JOB.
=MACLAREN, Rev. A.=--PSALMS, VOL. I.
=STOKES, Rev. G. T.=--ACTS, VOL. II.
=DODS, Rev. Marcus.=--GOSPEL ST. JOHN, VOL. II.
=FINDLAY, Rev. C. G.=--EPHESIANS.
6TH SERIES IN 6 VOLS.
=RAINY, Rev. R.=--PHILIPPIANS.
=FARRAR, Archdeacon F. W.=--1ST KINGS.
=BLAIKIE, Rev. W. G.=--JOSHUA.
=MACLAREN, Rev. A.=--PSALMS, VOL. II.
=LUMBY, Rev. J. R.=--EPISTLES OF ST. PETER.
=ADENEY, Rev. W. F.=--EZRA--NEHEMIAH--ESTHER.
7TH SERIES IN 6 VOLS.
=MOULE, Rev. H. C. G.=--ROMANS.
=FARRAR, Archdeacon F. W.=--2D KINGS.
=BENNETT, Rev. W. H.=--1ST AND 2D CHRONICLES.
=MACLAREN, Rev. A.=--PSALMS, VOL. III.
=DENNEY, Rev. James.=--2D CORINTHIANS.
=WATSON, Rev. R. A.=--NUMBERS.
8TH AND FINAL SERIES IN 7 VOLS.
=FARRAR, Archdeacon F. W.=--DANIEL.
=SKINNER, Rev. John.=--EZEKIEL.
=BENNETT, Rev. W. H.=--JEREMIAH.
=HARPER, Rev. Prof.=--DEUTERONOMY.
=ADENEY, Rev. W. F.=--SOLOMON AND LAMENTATIONS.
=SMITH, Rev. G. A.=--THE MINOR PROPHETS, 2 VOLS.
☞ About 400 pages in each Volume. Prices for either series, six
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THE SECOND BOOK
OF
SAMUEL.
BY THE REV. PROFESSOR
W. G. BLAIKIE, D.D., LL.D.,
NEW COLLEGE, EDINBURGH.
NEW YORK:
A. C. ARMSTRONG AND SON,
51 EAST 10TH STREET, NEAR BROADWAY,
1898.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
DAVID'S LAMENT FOR SAUL AND JONATHAN 1
CHAPTER II.
BEGINNING OF DAVID'S REIGN AT HEBRON 14
CHAPTER III.
BEGINNING OF CIVIL WAR 26
CHAPTER IV.
CONCLUSION OF CIVIL WAR 38
CHAPTER V.
ASSASSINATION OF ABNER AND ISHBOSHETH 50
CHAPTER VI.
DAVID KING OF ALL ISRAEL 62
CHAPTER VII.
THE KINGDOM ESTABLISHED 73
CHAPTER VIII.
THE ARK BROUGHT UP TO JERUSALEM 85
CHAPTER IX.
PROPOSAL TO BUILD A TEMPLE 97
CHAPTER X.
FOREIGN WARS 109
CHAPTER XI.
ADMINISTRATION OF THE KINGDOM 121
CHAPTER XII.
DAVID AND MEPHIBOSHETH 134
CHAPTER XIII.
DAVID AND HANUN 146
CHAPTER XIV.
DAVID AND URIAH 158
CHAPTER XV.
DAVID AND NATHAN 169
CHAPTER XVI.
PENITENCE AND CHASTISEMENT 181
CHAPTER XVII.
ABSALOM AND AMNON 193
CHAPTER XVIII.
ABSALOM BANISHED AND BROUGHT BACK 205
CHAPTER XIX.
ABSALOM'S REVOLT 217
CHAPTER XX.
DAVID'S FLIGHT FROM JERUSALEM 229
CHAPTER XXI.
FROM JERUSALEM TO MAHANAIM 241
CHAPTER XXII.
ABSALOM IN COUNCIL 253
CHAPTER XXIII.
ABSALOM'S DEFEAT AND DEATH 265
CHAPTER XXIV.
DAVID'S GRIEF FOR ABSALOM 277
CHAPTER XXV.
THE RESTORATION 289
CHAPTER XXVI.
DAVID AND BARZILLAI 301
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE INSURRECTION OF SHEBA 314
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE FAMINE 326
CHAPTER XXIX.
LAST BATTLES AND THE MIGHTY MEN 338
CHAPTER XXX.
THE SONG OF THANKSGIVING 350
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE LAST WORDS OF DAVID 363
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE NUMBERING OF ISRAEL 376
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE TWO BOOKS OF SAMUEL 388
CHAPTER I.
_DAVID'S LAMENT FOR SAUL AND JONATHAN._
2 SAMUEL i.
David had returned to Ziklag from the slaughter of the Amalekites
only two days before he heard of the death of Saul. He had returned
weary enough, we may believe, in body, though refreshed in spirit by
the recovery of all that had been taken away, and by the possession
of a vast store of booty besides. But in the midst of his success,
it was discouraging to see nothing but ruin and confusion where the
homes of himself and his people had recently been; and it must have
needed no small effort even to plan, and much more to execute, the
reconstruction of the city. But besides this, a still heavier feeling
must have oppressed him. What had been the issue of that great battle
at Mount Gilboa? Which army had conquered? If the Israelites were
defeated, what would be the fate of Saul and Jonathan? Would they be
prisoners now in the hands of the Philistines? And if so, what would
be his duty in regard to them? And what course would it be best for
him to take for the welfare of his ruined and distracted country?
He was not kept long in suspense. An Amalekite from the camp of
Israel, accustomed, like the Bedouin generally, to long and rapid
runs, arrived at Ziklag, bearing on his body all the tokens of a
disaster, and did obeisance to David, as now the legitimate occupant
of the throne. David must have surmised at a glance how matters
stood. His questions to the Amalekite elicited an account of the
death of Saul materially different from that given in a former part
of the history, "As I happened by chance upon Mount Gilboa, behold
Saul leaned upon his spear; and lo, the chariots and the horsemen
followed hard after him. And when he looked behind him, he saw me and
called unto me. And I answered, Here am I. And he said unto me, Who
art thou? And I answered him, I am an Amalekite. And he said unto me,
Stand, I pray thee, beside me, and slay me, for anguish hath taken
hold of me: because my life is yet whole in me. So I stood beside him
and slew him, because I was sure that he could not live after that
he was fallen; and I took the crown that was upon his head, and the
bracelet that was upon his arm, and have brought them hither to my
lord." There is no reason to suppose that this narrative of Saul's
death, in so far as it differs from the previous one, is correct.
That this Amalekite was somehow near the place where Saul Fell, and
that he witnessed all that took place at his death, there is no cause
to doubt. That when he saw that both Saul and his armour-bearer
were dead he removed the crown and the bracelet from the person of
the fallen king, and stowed them away among his own accoutrements,
may likewise be accepted without any difficulty. Then, managing to
escape, and considering what he would do with the ensigns of royalty,
he decided to carry them to David. To David he accordingly brought
them, and no doubt it was to ingratiate himself the more with him,
and to establish the stronger claim to a splendid recompense, that
he invented the story of Saul asking him to kill him, and of his
complying with the king's order, and thus putting an end to a life
which already was obviously doomed.
In his belief that his pretended despatching of the king would
gratify David, the Amalekite undoubtedly reckoned without his host;
but such things were so common, so universal in the East, that we
can hardly divest ourselves of a certain amount of compassion for
him. Probably there was no other kingdom, round and round, where
this Amalekite would not have found that he had done a wise thing in
so far as his own interests were concerned. For helping to despatch
a rival, and to open the way to a throne, he would probably have
received cordial thanks and ample gifts from one and all of the
neighbouring potentates. To David, the matter appeared in a quite
different light. He had none of that eagerness to occupy the throne
on which the Amalekite reckoned as a universal instinct of human
nature. And he had a view of the sanctity of Saul's life which the
Amalekite could not understand. His being the Lord's anointed ought
to have withheld this man from hurting a hair of his head. Sadly
though Saul had fallen back, the divinity that doth hedge a king
still encompassed him. "Touch not mine anointed" was still God's
word concerning him. This miserable Amalekite, a member of a doomed
race, appeared to David by his own confession not only a murderer,
but a murderer of the deepest dye. He had destroyed the life of
one who in an eminent sense was "the Lord's anointed." He had done
what once and again David had himself shrunk from doing. It is no
wonder that David was at once horrified and provoked,--horrified at
the unblushing criminality of the man; provoked at his effrontery,
at his doing without the slightest compunction what, at an immense
sacrifice, he had twice restrained himself from doing. No doubt he
was irritated, too, at the bare supposition on which the Amalekite
reckoned so securely, that such a black deed could be gratifying to
David himself. So without a moment's hesitation, and without allowing
the astonished youth a moment's preparation, he caused an attendant
to fall upon him and kill him. His sentence was short and clear, "Thy
blood be upon thy head; for thy mouth hath testified against thee
saying, I have slain the Lord's anointed."
In this incident we find David in a position in which good men are
often placed, who profess to have regard to higher principles than
the men of the world in regulating their lives, and especially
in the estimate which they form of their worldly interests and
considerations. That such men are sincere in the estimate they thus
profess to follow is what the world is very slow to believe. Faith in
any moral virtue that rises higher than the ordinary worldly level is
extremely rare among men. The world fancies that every man has his
price--sometimes that every woman has her price. Virtue of the heroic
quality that will face death itself rather than do wrong is what it
is most unwilling to believe in. Was it not this that gave rise to
the memorable trial of Job? Did not the great enemy, representing
here the spirit of the world, scorn the notion that at bottom Job
was in any way better than his neighbours, although the wonderful
prosperity with which he had been gifted made him appear more ready
to pay honour to God? It is all a matter of selfishness, was Satan's
plea; take away his prosperity, and lay a painful malady on his body,
his religion will vanish, he will curse Thee to Thy face. He would
not give Job credit for anything like disinterested virtue--anything
like genuine reverence for God. And was it not on the same principle
the tempter acted when he brought his threefold temptation to our
Lord in the wilderness? He did not believe in the superhuman virtue
of Jesus; he did not believe in His unswerving loyalty to truth and
duty. He did not believe that He was proof at once against the lust
of the flesh, and the lust of the eye, and the pride of life. At
least he did not believe till he tried, and had to retreat defeated.
When the end of His life drew near Jesus could say, "The prince of
this world cometh, but hath nothing in Me." There was no weakness in
Jesus to which he could fasten his cord--no trace of that worldliness
by which he had so often been able to entangle and secure his victims.
So likewise Simon the sorcerer fancied that he only needed to offer
money to the Apostles to secure from them the gift of the Holy Ghost.
"Thy money perish with thee!" was the indignant rebuke of Peter. It is
the same refusal to believe in the reality of high principle that has
made so many a persecutor fancy that he could bend the obstinacy of the
heretic by the terrors of suffering and torture. And on the other hand,
no nobler sight has ever been presented than when this incredulous
scorn of the world has been rebuked by the firmness and triumphant
faith of the noble martyr. What could Nebuchadnezzar have thought when
the three Hebrew children were willing to enter the fiery furnace? What
did Darius think of Daniel when he shrank not from the lions' den? How
many a rebuke and surprise was furnished to the rulers of this world
in the early persecutions of the Christians, and to the champions of
the Church of Rome in the splendid defiance hurled against them by the
Protestant martyrs! The men who formed the Free Church of Scotland were
utterly discredited when they affirmed that rather than surrender the
liberties of their Church they would part with every temporal privilege
which they had enjoyed from connection with the State. Such is the
spirit of the world; if it will not rise to the apparent level of the
saints, it delights to pull down the saints to its own. These pretences
to superior virtue are hypocrisy and pharisaism; test their professions
by their worldly interests, and you will find them soon enough on a
level with yourselves.
The Amalekite that thought to gratify David by pretending that he had
slain his rival had no idea that he was wronging him; in his blind
innocency he seems to have assumed as a matter of course that David
would be pleased. It is not likely the Amalekite had ever heard of
David's noble magnanimity in twice sparing Saul's life when he had an
excellent pretext for taking it, if his conscience had allowed him.
He just assumed that David would feel as he would have felt himself.
He simply judged of him by his own standard. His object was to show
how great a service he had rendered him, and thus establish a claim
to a great reward. Never did heartless selfishness more completely
overreach itself. Instead of a reward, this impious murderer had
earned a fearful punishment. An Israelite might have had a chance of
mercy, but an Amalekite had none--the man was condemned to instant
death. One can hardly fancy his bewilderment,--what a strange man was
this David! What a marvellous reverence he had for God! To place him
on a throne was no favor, if it involved doing anything against "the
Lord's anointed!" And yet who shall say that in his estimate of this
proceeding David did more than recognize the obligation of the first
commandment? To him God's will was all in all.
Dismissing this painful episode, we now turn to contemplate David's
conduct after the intelligence reached him that Saul was dead. David
was now just thirty (2 Sam. v. 4); and never did man at that age, or
at any age, act a finer part. The death, and especially the sudden
death, of a relative or a friend has usually a remarkable effect on the
tender heart, and especially in the case of the young. It blots out all
remembrance of little injuries done by the departed; it fills one with
regret for any unkind words one may have spoken, or any unkind deeds
one may ever have done to him. It makes one very forgiving. But it must
have been a far more generous heart than the common that could so soon
rid itself of every shred of bitter feeling toward Saul--that could
blot out, in one great act of forgiveness, the remembrance of many
long years of injustice, oppression, and toil, and leave no feelings
but those of kindness, admiration, and regret, called forth by the
contemplation of what was favourable in Saul's character. How beautiful
does the spirit of forgiveness appear in such a light! Yet how hard do
many feel it to be to exercise this spirit in any case, far less in all
cases! How terrible a snare the unforgiving spirit is liable to be to
us, and how terrible an obstacle to peaceful communion with God! "For
if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father in
heaven forgive your trespasses."
The feelings of David toward Saul and Jonathan were permanently
embodied in a song which he composed for the occasion. It seems to
have been called "The Song of the Bow," so that the rendering of
the Revised Version--"he taught them the Song of the Bow," gives
a much better sense than the old--"he taught them the use of the
bow." The song was first written in the book of Jasher; and it was
ordered by David to be taught to the people as a permanent memorial
of their king and his eldest son. The writing of such a song, the
spirit of admiration and eulogy which pervades it, and the unusual
enactment that it should be taught to the people, show how far
superior David was to the ordinary feelings of jealousy, how full
his heart was of true generosity. There was, indeed, a political end
which it might advance; it might conciliate the supporters of Saul,
and smooth David's way to the throne. But there is in it such depth
and fulness of feeling that one can think of it only as a genuine
cardiphonia--a true voice of the heart. The song dwells on all that
could be commended in Saul, and makes no allusion to his faults. His
courage and energy in war, his happy co-operation with Jonathan, his
advancement of the kingdom in elegance and comfort, are all duly
celebrated. David appears to have had a real affection for Saul, if
only it had been allowed to bloom and flourish. His martial energy
had probably awakened his admiration before he knew him personally;
and when he became his minstrel, his distressed countenance would
excite his pity, while his occasional gleams of generous feeling
would thrill his heart with sympathy. The terrible effort of Saul
to crush David was now at an end, and like a lily released from a
heavy stone, the old attachment bloomed out speedily and sweetly.
There would be more true love in families and in the world, more of
expansive, responsive affection, if it were not so often stunted by
reserve on the one hand, and crushed by persecution on the other.
The song embalms very tenderly the love of Jonathan for David.
Years had probably elapsed since the two friends met, but time had
not impaired the affection and admiration of David. And now that
Jonathan's light was extinguished, a sense of desolation fell on
David's heart, and the very throne that invited his occupation seemed
dark and dull under the shadow cast on it by the death of Jonathan.
As a prize of earthly ambition it would be poor indeed; and if ever
it had seemed to David a proud distinction to look forward to, such
a feeling would appear very detestable when the same act that opened
it up to him had deprived him for ever of his dearest friend, his
sweetest source of earthly joy. The only way in which it was possible
for David to enjoy his new position was by losing sight of himself;
by identifying himself more closely than ever with the people;
by regarding the throne as only a position for more self-denying
labours for the good of others. And in the song there is evidence of
the great strength and activity of this feeling. The sentiment of
patriotism burns with a noble ardour; the national disgrace is most
keenly felt; the thought of personal gain from the death of Saul
and Jonathan is entirely swallowed up by grief for the public loss.
"Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon; lest
the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the
uncircumcised triumph!" In David's view, it is no ordinary calamity
that has fallen on Israel. It is no common men that have fallen, but
"the beauty of Israel," her ornament and her glory, men that were
never known to flinch or to flee from battle, men that were "swifter
than eagles, and stronger than lions." It is not in any obscure
corner that they have fallen, but "on her high places," on Mount
Gilboa, at the head of a most conspicuous and momentous enterprise.
Such a national loss was unprecedented in the history of Israel,
and it seems to have affected David and the nation generally as the
slaughter at Flodden affected the Scots, when it seemed as if all
that was great and beautiful in the nation perished--"the flowers o'
the forest were a' weed awa'."
A word on the general structure of this song. It is not a song that
can be classed with the Psalms. Nor can it be said that in any marked
degree it resembles the tone or spirit of the Psalms. Yet this need not
surprise us, nor need it throw any doubt either as to the authorship of
the song or the authorship of the Psalms. The Psalms, we must remember,
were avowedly composed and designed for use in the worship of God.
If the Greek term _psalmoi_ denotes their character, they were songs
designed for use in public worship, to be accompanied with the lyre,
or harp, or other musical instruments suitable for them. The special
sphere of such songs was--the relation of the human soul to God. These
songs might be of various kinds--historical, lyrical, dramatical; but
in all cases the paramount subject was, the dealings of God with man,
or the dealings of man with God. It was in this class of composition
that David excelled, and became the organ of the Holy Ghost for the
highest instruction and edification of the Church in all ages. But it
does not by any means follow that the poetical compositions of David
were restricted to this one class of subject. His muse may sometimes
have taken a different course. His poems were not always directly
religious. In the case of this song, whose original place in the book
of Jasher indicated its special character, there is no mention of the
relation of Saul and Jonathan to God. The theme is, their services
to the nation, and the national loss involved in their death. The
soul of the poet is profoundly thrilled by their death, occurring in
such circumstances of national disaster. No form of words could have
conveyed more vividly the idea of unprecedented loss, or thrilled
the nation with such a sense of calamity. There is not a line of the
song but is full of life, and hardly one that is not full of beauty.
What could more touchingly indicate the fatal nature of the calamity
than that plaintive entreaty--"Tell it not in Gath, publish it not
in the streets of Askelon"? How could the hills be more impressively
summoned to show their sympathy than in that invocation of everlasting
sterility--"Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let
there be rain upon you, or fields of offerings"? What gentler veil
could be drawn over the horrors of their bloody death and mutilated
bodies than in the tender words, "Saul and Jonathan were loving and
pleasant in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided"?
And what more fitting theme for tears could have been furnished to the
daughters of Israel, considering what was probably the prevalent taste,
than that Saul had "clothed them with scarlet and other delights, and
put on ornaments of gold upon their apparel"? Up to this point Saul
and Jonathan are joined together; but the poet cannot close without
a special lamentation for himself over him whom he loved as his own
soul. And in one line he touches the very kernel of his own loss, as
he touches the very core of Jonathan's heart--"thy love to me was
wonderful, passing the love of women." Such is the Song of the Bow.
It hardly seems suitable to attempt to draw spiritual lessons out of
a song, which, on purpose, was placed in a different category. Surely
it is enough to point out the exceeding beauty and generosity of
spirit which sought in this way to embalm the memory and perpetuate the
virtues of Saul and Jonathan; which blended together in such melodious
words a deadly enemy and a beloved friend; which transfigured one of
the lives so that it shone with the lustre and the beauty of the other;
which sought to bury every painful association, and gave full and
unlimited scope to the charity that thinketh no evil. _De mortuis nil
nisi bonum_, was a heathen maxim,--"Say nothing but what is good of the
dead." Surely no finer exemplification of the maxim was ever given than
in this "Song of the Bow."
To "thoughts that breathe and words that burn," like those of this
song, David could not have given expression without having his whole
soul stirred with the desire to repair the national disaster, and
by God's help bring back prosperity and honour to Israel. Thus,
both by the afflictions that saddened his heart and the stroke of
prosperity that raised him to the throne, he was impelled to that
course of action which is the best safeguard under God against the
hurtful influences both of adversity and prosperity. Affliction might
have driven him into his shell, to think only of his own comfort;
prosperity might have swollen him with a sense of his importance, and
tempted him to expect universal admiration;--both would have made him
unfit to rule; by the grace of God he was preserved from both. He was
induced to gird himself for a course of high exertion for the good of
his country; the spirit of trust in God, after its long discipline,
had a new field opened for its exercise; and the self-government
acquired in the wilderness was to prove its usefulness in a higher
sphere. Thus the providence of his heavenly Father was gradually
unfolding His purposes concerning him; the clouds were clearing off
his horizon; and the "all things" that once seemed to be "against
him" were now plainly "working together for his good."