The final years of this great monarch present an impressive lesson of the vanity even of a successful life, whatever services a man may have rendered to his country and to civilization.  Few kings have ever accomplished more than David; but his glory was succeeded, if not by shame, at least by clouds and darkness.  And this eclipse is all the more mournful when we remember not only his services but his exalted virtues.  He was the most successful and the most admired of all the monarchs who reigned at Jerusalem.  He was one of the greatest and best men who ever lived in any nation or at any period.  “When, before or since, has there lived an outlaw who did not despoil his country?” Where has there reigned a king whose head was less giddy on a throne, or who retained more humility in the midst of riches and glories, unless it were Marcus Aurelius or Alfred the Great?  David had an inborn aptitude for government, and a power like Julius Caesar of fascinating every one who came in contact with him.  His self-denial and devotion to the interests of the nation were marvellous.  We do not read that he took any time for pleasure or recreation; the heavy load of responsibility and care never for a moment was thrown from his shoulders.  His penetration of character was so remarkable that all stood in fear of him; yet fear gave place to admiration.  Never had a monarch more devoted servants and followers than David in his palmy days; he was the nation’s idol and pride for thirty years.  In every successive vicissitude he was great; and were it not for his cruelty in war and severity to his enemies, and his one great lapse into criminal self-indulgence, his reign would have been faultless.  Contrast David with the other conquerors of the world; compare him with classical and mediaeval heroes,—­how far do they fall beneath him in deeds of magnanimity and self-sacrifice!  What monarch has transmitted to posterity such inestimable treasures of thought and language?

It is consoling to feel that David, whether exultant in riches and honors, or bowed down to the earth with grief and wrath, both in the years of adversity and in his prosperous manhood, in strength and in weakness, with unfailing constancy and loyalty turned his thoughts to God as the source of all hope and consolation.  “As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, O God!” He has no doubts, no scepticism, no forgetfulness.  His piety has the seal of an all-pervading sense of the constant presence and aid of a personal God whom it is his supremest glory to acknowledge,—­his staff, his rock, his fortress, his shield, his deliverer, his friend; the One with whom he sought to commune, both day and night, on the field of battle and in the guarded recesses of his palace.  In the very depths of humiliation he never sinks into despair.  His piety is both tender and exultant.  In the ecstasy of his raptures he calls even upon inanimate nature to utter God’s praises,—­upon the