A new missile pierces this panting, wounded Hart on the mountains of Israel. _One_ of those who hurled the Javelin is specially mentioned in the sacred narrative. His poisoned dart must have been rankling in David's soul when he penned this Psalm.
When the King was descending the eastern slopes of _Olivet_, on his way to the Valley of Jordan, Shimei a Benjamite of Bahurim, of the house of Saul, came out against him, "_and_," we read, "_cursed still as he came. And he cast stones at David, and at all the servants of King David: and all the people and all the mighty men were on his right hand and on his left. And thus said Shimei when he cursed, Come out, come out, thou bloody man, and thou man of Belial: the Lord hath returned upon thee all the blood of the house of Saul, in whose stead thou hast reigned; and the Lord hath delivered the kingdom into the hand of Absalom thy son: and, behold, thou art taken in thy mischief, because thou art a bloody man. And as David and his men went by the way, Shimei went along on the hill's side over against him, and cursed him as he went, and threw stones at him, and cast dust._" (2 Sam. xvi 5-8, 13.) Besides this son of Gera, there were many obsequious flatterers and sycophants at Jerusalem--men once his cringing adherents, loud with their hosannahs in the time of his prosperity--who had now turned against him in his adversity, and become the partisans of the usurper. They exulted over his downfall, and followed him to the place of exile with the taunting cry, "Where is now thy God?" "_Mine enemies_," said he, "_speak against me; and they that lay wait for my soul take counsel together, saying,_ GOD _hath forsaken him: persecute and take him; for there is none to deliver him_." (Ps. lxxi. 10, 11.)
There is no trial keener, no anguish of soul intenser than this. Let not any talk of taunt and ridicule being a trivial and insignificant thing--unworthy of thought. Let not any say that the believer, entrenched in a lordly castle--the very fortress of God--should be above the shafts hurled from the bow of envy, or the venomous arrows from the tongue of the scoffer. It is often _because_ the taunt is contemptible that it is hardest to bear. The sting of the adder rouses into fury the lordly lion. The tiniest insect blanches the colour of the loveliest flower, and causes it to hang its pining head. Sorrow is in itself difficult of endurance, but bitter is the aggravation when others are ready to make a jest of our sorrows. _No water_ is bad enough to the fainting pilgrim, but worse is it when he is mocked by the mirage or bitter pool.