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, better
masters no man ever had. Our enemies are our evil deeds and their
memories, our pride, our selfishness, our malice, our passions, which by
conscience or by habit pursue us with a relentlessness past the power of
figure to express. We know how they persist from youth unto the grave:
_the sting of death is sin._ We know what they want: nothing less than our
whole character and will. _Simon, Simon_, said Christ to a soul on the
edge of a great temptation, _Satan hath asked you back again for himself_.

Yet it is the abounding message of the whole Bible, of which our
twenty-third Psalm is but a small fragment, that for this conscience and
this habit of sin God hath made provision, even as sure as those thoughts
of His guidance which refresh us in the heat of life and comfort us amidst
its shadows.