"Is this all your household? Have you not another son?" he inquired.
"Yes," said Jesse the Bethlehemite, who by the way was a grandson of
that beautiful maiden, Ruth, who came out of Moab with Naomi, "yes, I
have still a son, but he is only a youth, out in the fields; you would
not wish to see _him_." But this was a mistake.
"Pray, send for him," answered the prophet.
Then David, for this was his name, came in, modest yet eager, with his
pleasant face and his dark kindling eyes. And the prophet said, "This is
the Lord's anointed," and then in a ceremony which the simple family
seem not to have quite understood, he set the boy apart by prayer and
blessing, poured the fragrant oil of consecration on his head, and said
in effect that in days to come he would be the King of Israel.
David went back to his fields and his sheep and for a long while nothing
happened.
But there arose against Israel in due time a nation of warlike people,
called "The Philistines." Nearly all the strong young men of the country
went out to fight against these invaders, and among them went the sons
of old Jesse. Nobody stayed at home except the old men, the women and
the younger boys and little ones. The whole country was turned into a
moving camp, and there arrived a time before long when Israel and the
Philistines each on a rolling hill, with a valley between them, set
their battle in array.
I once supposed that battles were fought on open plains, with soldiers
confronting one another in plain sight, as we set out toy regiments of
wooden warriors to fight for children's amusement.
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