This is probably what the Psalmist himself felt when he did not close with the fourth verse, otherwise so natural a climax.  He knew that weariness and death are not the last enemies of man.  He knew that the future is never the true man’s only fear.  He remembered the inexorableness of the past; he remembered that blood-guiltiness, which sheep never feel, is worse to men than death.  As perchance one day he lifted his eyes from his sheep and saw a fugitive from the avenger of blood crossing the plain, while his sheep scattered right and left before this wild intruder into their quiet world,—­so he felt his fair and gentle thoughts within him scattered by the visitation of his past; so he felt how rudely law breaks through our pious fancies, and must be dealt with before their peace can be secure; so he felt, as every true man has felt with him, that the religion, however bright and brave, which takes no account of sin, is the religion which has not a last nor a highest word for life.

Consider this system of blood revenge.  It was the one element of law in the lawless life of the desert.  Everything else in the wilderness might swerve and stray.  This alone persisted and was infallible.  It crossed the world; it lasted through generations.  The fear of it never died down in the heart of the hunted man, nor the duty of it in the heart of the hunter.  The holiest sanctions confirmed it,—­the safety of society, the honour of the family, love for the dead.  And yet, from this endless process, which hunted a man like conscience, a shelter was found in the custom of Eastern hospitality—­the ‘golden piety of the wilderness,’ as it has been called.  Every wanderer, whatever his character or his past might be, was received as the; ’guest of God’—­such is the beautiful name which they still give him,—­furnished with food, and kept inviolate, his host becoming responsible for his safety.

That the Psalmist had this custom in view, when composing the last two verses of the Psalm, is plain from the phrase with which these open:  Thou spreadest before me a table in the very face of mine enemies; and perhaps also from the unusual metaphor in verse 6:  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow, or hunt, me all the days of my life.

And even if those were right (which I do not admit) who interpret the enemies and pursuers as the mere foes and persecutors of the pious, it is plain that to us using the Psalm this interpretation will not suffice.  How can we speak of this custom of blood-revenge and think only of our material foes?  If we know ourselves, and if our conscience be quick, then of all our experiences there is but one which suits this figure of blood-revenge, when and wheresoever in the Old Testament it is applied to man’s spiritual life.  So only do the conscience and the habit of sin pursue a man.  Our real enemies are not our opponents, our adversities, our cares and pains.  These our enemies!  Better comrades, better guides,