ressing on in the path of holiness,
and immovable with the immobility of those who are rooted in God and
goodness. It will be a free, or "a willing spirit," ready for all joyful
service of thankfulness, and so penetrated with the love of his God that
he will delight to do His will, and carry the law charactered in the
spontaneous impulses of his renewed nature. Not without profound meaning
does the psalmist seem to recur in his hour of penitence to the tragic
fate of his predecessor in the monarchy, to whom, as to himself, had
been given by the same anointing, the same gift of "the Spirit of God."
Remembering how the holy chrism had faded from the raven locks of Saul
long before his bloody head had been sent round Philistine cities to
glut their revenge, and knowing that if God were "strict to mark
iniquity," the gift which had been withdrawn from Saul would not be
continued to himself, he prays, not as anointed monarch only, but as
sinful man, "Take not Thy Holy Spirit from me." As before he had
ventured to ask for the joy of forgiveness, so now he pleads once more
for "the joy of Thy salvation," which comes from cleansing, from
conscious fellowship--which he had so long and deeply felt, which for so
many months had been hid from him by the mists of his own sin. The
psalmist's natural buoyancy, the gladness which was an inseparable part
of his religion, and had rung from his harp in many an hour of peril,
the bold width of his desires, grounded on the clear breadth of his
faith in God's perfect forgiveness, are all expressed in such a prayer
from such lips at such a time, and may well be pondered and imitated by
us.

The lowly prayer which we have been tracing rises ere its close to a vow
of renewed praise. It is very beautiful to note how the poet nature, as
well as the consciousness of a Divine function, unite in the resolve
that crowns the psalm. To David no tribute that he could bring to God
seemed so little unworthy--none to himself so joyous--as the music of
his harp, and the melody of his songs; nor was any part of his kingly
office so lofty in his estimation as his calling to proclaim in glowing
words the name of the Lord, that men might learn to love. His earliest
song in exile had closed with a like vow. It had been well fulfilled for
many a year; but these last doleful months had silenced all his praise.
Now, as hope begins to shine upon him once more, the frost which had
stilled the stream of his devotion i