Exodus 23:4-5

Thine enemy’s ox.

On duties to enemies

I. That duties to enemies are enjoined (Proverbs 24:17; 1 Thessalonians 5:15).

1. It is our duty to protect the interests of our enemy.

(1) If they are damaged, we should endeavour to retrieve them.

(2) If they are in danger of damage, we should endeavour to prevent them (James 5:19).

2. It is our duty to help the difficulties of our enemy.

(1) His mind may be in difficulties.

(2) His soul may be in difficulties.

(3) His material interests may be in difficulties.

II. That duties to enemies are difficult: “and wouldest forbear to help him.”

1. Such duties are against the grain of human nature.

2. Such duties are apparently against self-interest.

3. Such duties require self-denials and sacrifices.

III. That duties to enemies are rewarded (Proverbs 25:21; Matthew 5:44; Romans 12:20).

IV. That neglect of duties to enemies is punished (Job 31:29; Proverbs 24:18). In conclusion--

1. Our text applies to all enmity, whether polemical, political, or national.

2. Its precepts should be obeyed, because we may be in the wrong and our enemy in the right.

3. Because God has Himself set us the sublime example. “When we were enemies, we were reconciled by the death of His Son.” (J. W. Burn.)

Neighbourly conduct

The horse of a pious man living in Massachusetts, North America, happening to stray into the road, a neighbour of the man who owned the horse put him into the pound. Meeting the owner soon after, he told him what he had done; “And if I catch him in the road again,” said he, “I’ll do it again.” “Neighbour,” replied the other, “not long since I looked out of my window in the night and saw your cattle in my meadow, and I drove them out and shut them in your yard; and I’ll do it again.” Struck with the reply, the man liberated the horse from the pound, and paid the charges himself. “A soft answer turneth away wrath.”

A humane disposition

In one of my temperance pilgrimages through Illinois I met a gentleman who was the companion of a dreary ride which Mr. Lincoln made in a light waggon, going the rounds of a circuit court where he had clients to look after. The weather was rainy, the road “heavy” with mud. Lincoln enlivened the way with anecdotes and recital, for few indeed were the incidents that relieved the tedium of the trip. At last, in wallowing through a slough, they came upon a poor hog, which was literally fast in the mud. The lawyers commented on the poor creature’s pitiful condition and drove on. About half a mile was laboriously gone over, when Lincoln suddenly exclaimed, “I don’t know how you feel about it, but I’ve got to go back and pull that pig out of the slough.” His comrade laughed, thinking it merely a joke; but what was his surprise when Lincoln dismounted, left him to his reflections, and striding slowly back, like a man on stilts picking his way as his long walking implements permitted, he grappled with the drowning swine, dragged him out of the ditch, left him on its edge to recover his strength, slowly measured off the distance back to his waggon, and the two men drove on as if nothing had happened. The grand and brotherly nature which could not consent to see the lowest of animals suffer without coming to its rescue at great personal discomfort was nurtured by years of self-abnegation for the great struggle, when he should be strong enough to “put a shoulder to the wheel,” that should lift the chariot of State out of the mire and set a subject race upon its feet. (Frances E. Willard.)