1 Kings 2:1-11

A Jewish deathbed.

A brilliant poet and essayist once summoned his stepson, the young Earl of Warwick, to his bedside, and with perfect dignity and composure bade him mark "how a Christian man can die." In this section, one far greater, and yet in one sense far less, than Addison,—greater as a poet, as a statesman, as a patriot; less, inasmuch as "he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he,"—beckons us to the chamber of death, and bids us witness the departure of a pious Jew—of a typical Hebrew of the Hebrews. In one sense, David is the greatest figure in the Old Testament. He alone, of all that are born of women, has been called a "man after God's own heart." And more: If Solomon is of all Old Testament characters the most secular, certainly David is by far the most spiritual. Proof: His songs are still chanted in church as well as synagogue, and Christian souls find no fitter expression for their devout longings and aspirations than in the language of his exquisite Psalms. Let us hear his last recorded words. The last utterances of great men are allowed to have a special interest. They have often been intensely characteristic. Let us listen to "the last words of David." Let us carefully notice

I. . WHAT HE DOES SAY .

1 . He says he is not afraid to meet death. His conduct, his demeanour says this. See how calmly he looks it in the face. "I go the way," etc. He hardly knows what death means; knows but little of the life beyond; his hopes and fears are bounded by the pale and shadowy realm of Sheol, but he can trust the living God, and he thinks—he believes—" they cannot cease to live whom God does not cease to love." And so he goes into the gloom and the shadows with the trust of a child that holds the father's hand; he approaches the grave

"As one who wraps the drapery of his couch

About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."

We have a far nobler creed—a livelier hope than his. Jesus Christ has "brought life and immortality to light." We have heard of the rest of Paradise; of the resurrection; of the beatific vision. Shall we then dread to die? Shall we be put to shame by a Jew? The Mohammedan calls death the "terminator of delights and the separator of companions." Socrates said, "Whether it is best to live or die, the gods only know." Shall we act as if we had no better belief? Surely our beneficent religion, and its gospel of immortality, should make us brave to die.

2 . He bids us be mindful of our mortality. There are Christians who will not think, will not speak of death. Not so David. He saw the end approaching, and he faced it. It is well we should have from time to time, as we constantly have in daily life, in the dispensations of God's providence, a memento mori. Pagan and Moslem monarchs have had their heralds daily and publicly remind them of their frailty. The ancient Egyptians would bring a mummy to their feasts. The Kaffars ever keep the boards for their coffins in their houses. With their dismal and often hopeless creeds, they yet remember death. Shall we, who know that death is but the gate of life, ostrich like, shut our eyes to it, and all "think all men to be mortal but ourselves?"

3 . He teaches us in death to think of duty; to remember those who will come after us—our friends, enemies, church, and country. He leaves a son "young and tender." He is concerned for his piety, for his prosperity; and through him, for the piety and prosperity of the nation. He knows that the words of the dying have weight. He will not depart without a solemn dying charge. It is the last best gift he can bestow. The Christian must not die selfishly. Even in pain and feebleness, he must care for others. If he can, he ought to charge his children and connexions; to warn them, to bless them. Should he be less jealous for their present and eternal welfare, or less concerned for the honour and glory of God, than was this dying Jew?

4 . He reminds us that men die as they have lived. David has kept the law, "save in the matter of Uriah," etc. His death is of a piece with his life—it is the natural outcome, the good fruit from a good tree. During life, he has been very zealous for the Lord God of Israel. The ruling passion displays itself in death. The great desire of the man who has kept the law is that his son may keep it. To die well, one must live well. The last struggle works no change in the character. Deathbed repentance is generally delusive. They deceive themselves, who,

"Dying, put on the weeds of Dominic,

Or as Franciscans think to pass disguised."

5. He warns us to set our house in order, to pay our debts and square our accounts before we die. David, we read, "prepared abundantly (for the temple) before his death." He has made royal provision for the house that should be built. But he remembers at last that three debts of his are still undischarged; a debt of gratitude to the sons of Barzillai, a debt of retribution to Joab, and another to Shimei. "Due punishment of malefactors is the debt of authority" (Bp. Hall). He will not, like some, "go on sinning in his grave;" he will have these debts discharged. He cannot depart in peace while they burden his conscience. And we, too, go where "there is neither work, nor device, nor knowledge," where wrongs cannot be redressed, where accounts cannot be settled. Have we any crime unconfessed, or injury unrepaired, any enemy unforgiven? "What thou doest, do quickly." But let us now consider—

II. WHAT DAVID DOES NOT SAY . The silence of Scripture is often golden, is sometimes as instructive as its voices. Here is a case in point. The most spiritual of Old Testament saints—the man after God's own heart—is dying, and he knows it. He gives his son his parting counsels, and what are they? They are all of this world. Observe—

1 . There is no mention of a future life; no "hope full of immortality," no talk of reunion, but rather a sad " vale, vale in aeternum vale." The most remarkable feature in David's last words is, that there is not one word about another ]fie. The Christian could not die thus. Even "half-inspired heathens" have expressed a livelier hope—witness Cicero's "O praeclarum diem cum ad illud divimun animorum concilium coetumque proficisear"—and how immeasurably higher than this, again, is St. Paul's desire to depart and be with Christ! "I go the way of all the earth"—it is like the sound of the clods upon the coffin, without the faintest whisper of a "Resurgam." What a contrast between this and the apostle's exultant cry, "Death is swallowed up in victory!" And the very humblest Christian could hardly depart as David did, with absolutely no reference to the realm of the future. There would assuredly be some comforting word about the many mansions, the rest for the weary, the gates of pearl, the streets of fine gold. Of all this David said nothing, neither in life nor death, because he knew nothing. He had hopes, anticipations, convictions almost, as some of the Psalms show, but he had not what the Christian has, the "full assurance of faith," the "sure and certain hope of a resurrection to eternal life." In this respect how much greater was Addison, how much more "full of all blessed conditions" his death. In this respect, every Christian deathbed has a glory and a consecration and a triumph which we miss in the death chamber of the sweet Psalmist of Israel, the most saintly and spiritual of an the Jews. As Coleridge,

"Is that a deathbed where the Christian lies?

Yes, but not his; 'tis death itself there dies."

2. There is no idea of a future recompense. Hence, partly, his urgent demand for the punishment of Joab and Shimei. He does not know of a "judgment to come;" of any distribution of rewards and punishments after death. He has been taught that the righteous and the wicked alike are to be "recompensed in the earth," and therefore Joab and Shimei, albeit old and greyheaded, must not die in peace. If they do, justice, he thinks, will be robbed of its due. How different the conception of the Christian! He views with calmness the miscarriage of justice; he sees the wicked in great prosperity; he "bears the whips and scorns of time," "suffers the stings and arrows of outrageous fortune," knowing that this world is not all; that "God is patient because he is eternal," and that "the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain," at the judgment seat of Christ.

3 . There was no hope of a kingdom and a crown . David's idea was that he was leaving a kingdom; St. Paul's that he was going to one. "Remove the diadem and take off the crown"—this was the message of death to the Hebrew kings. And to us death brings a crown ( Revelation 2:10 , Revelation 3:11 ; 2 Timothy 4:8 ; James 1:12 , etc.), a throne ( Romans 3:21 ), a sceptre ( Revelation 2:27 ), a kingdom ( Daniel 7:18 ; Luke 22:29 ; Hebrews 12:28 , etc.) To the Jew death was practically the end of life and of glory; to the Christian it is the beginning of both.