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                         THE EXPOSITOR'S BIBLE



                           EDITED BY THE REV.
                  SIR W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A., LL.D.
                   _Editor of "The Expositor," etc._



                               THE PSALMS

                                   BY

                           A. MACLAREN, D.D.



                              _VOLUME 1._

                          PSALMS I.--XXXVIII.





                          HODDER AND STOUGHTON
                   LONDON      NEW YORK      TORONTO




                         THE EXPOSITOR'S BIBLE.

              _Crown 8vo, cloth, price 7s. 6d. each vol._


                             FIRST SERIES.

  Colossians.
    By the Rev. A. MACLAREN, D.D., D.Lit.

  St. Mark.
    By the Right Rev. the Bishop of Derry.

  Genesis.
    By Prof. MARCUS DODS, D.D.

  1 Samuel.
    By Prof. W. G. BLAIKIE, D.D.

  2 Samuel.
    By the same Author.

  Hebrews.
    By Principal T. C. EDWARDS, D.D.

                             SECOND SERIES.

  Galatians.
    By Prof. G. G. FINDLAY, B.A., D.D.

  The Pastoral Epistles.
    By the Rev. A. PLUMMER, D.D.

  Isaiah I.--XXXIX.
    By Prin. G. A. SMITH, D.D. Vol. I.

  The Book of Revelation.
    By Prof. W. MILLIGAN, D.D.

  1 Corinthians.
    By Prof. MARCUS DODS, D.D.

  The Epistles of St. John.
    By the Most Rev. the Archbishop of Armagh.

                             THIRD SERIES.

  Judges and Ruth.
    By the Rev. R. A. WATSON, M.A., D.D.

  Jeremiah.
    By the Rev. C. J. BALL, M.A.

  Isaiah XL.--LXVI.
    By Prin. G. A. SMITH, D.D. Vol. II.

  St. Matthew.
    By the Rev. J. MONRO GIBSON, D.D.

  Exodus.
    By the Right Rev. the Bishop of Derry.

  St. Luke.
    By the Rev. H. BURTON, M.A.

                             FOURTH SERIES.

  Ecclesiastes.
    By the Rev. SAMUEL COX, D.D.

  St. James and St. Jude.
    By the Rev. A. PLUMMER, D.D.

  Proverbs.
    By the Rev. R. F. HORTON, D.D.

  Leviticus.
    By the Rev. S. H. KELLOGG, D.D.

  The Gospel of St. John.
    By Prof. M. DODS, D.D. Vol. I.

  The Acts of the Apostles.
    By Prof. STOKES, D.D. Vol. I.

                             FIFTH SERIES.

  The Psalms.
    By the Rev. A. MACLAREN, D.D. Vol. I.

  1 and 2 Thessalonians.
    By Prof. JAMES DENNEY, D.D.

  The Book of Job.
    By the Rev. R. A. WATSON, M.A., D.D.

  Ephesians.
    By Prof. G. G. FINDLAY, B.A., D.D.

  The Gospel of St. John.
    By Prof. M. DODS, D.D. Vol. II.

  The Acts of the Apostles.
    By Prof. STOKES, D.D. Vol. II.

                             SIXTH SERIES.

  1 Kings.
    By the Very Rev. F. W. FARRAR, F.R.S.

  Philippians.
    By Principal RAINY, D.D.

  Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther.
    By Prof. W. F. ADENEY, M.A.

  Joshua.
    By Prof. W. G. BLAIKIE, D.D.

  The Psalms.
    By the Rev. A. MACLAREN, D.D. Vol. II.

  The Epistles of St. Peter.
    By Prof. RAWSON LUMBY, D.D.

                            SEVENTH SERIES.

  2 Kings.
    By the Very Rev. F. W. FARRAR. F.R.S.

  Romans.
    By the Right Rev. H. C. G. MOULE, D.D.

  The Books of Chronicles.
    By Prof. W. H. BENNETT, D.D., D.Lit.

  2 Corinthians.
    By Prof. JAMES DENNEY, D.D.

  Numbers.
    By the Rev. R. A. WATSON, M.A., D.D.

  The Psalms.
    By the Rev. A. MACLAREN, D.D. Vol. III.

                             EIGHTH SERIES.

  Daniel.
    By the Very Rev. F. W. FARRAR, F.R.S.

  The Book of Jeremiah.
    By Prof. W. H. BENNETT, D.D., D.Lit.

  Deuteronomy.
    By Prof. ANDREW HARPER, B.D.

  The Song of Solomon and Lamentations.
    By Prof. W. F. ADENEY, M.A.

  Ezekiel.
    By Prof. JOHN SKINNER, M.A.

  The Books of the Twelve Prophets.
    By Prin. G. A. SMITH, D.D. Two Vols.




                               THE PSALMS




                                   BY
                           A. MACLAREN, D.D.





                              _VOLUME 1._
                          PSALMS I.--XXXVIII.






                          HODDER AND STOUGHTON

                   LONDON      NEW YORK      TORONTO




    _Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._




                                PREFACE.


A volume which appears in "The Expositor's Bible" should obviously,
first of all, be expository. I have tried to conform to that
requirement, and have therefore found it necessary to leave questions
of date and authorship all but untouched. They could not be adequately
discussed in conjunction with Exposition. I venture to think that the
deepest and most precious elements in the Psalms are very slightly
affected by the answers to these questions, and that expository
treatment of the bulk of the Psalter may be separated from critical,
without condemning the former to incompleteness. If I have erred in
thus restricting the scope of this volume, I have done so after due
consideration; and am not without hope that the restriction may
commend itself to some readers.

                                                  A. McL.

  MANCHESTER, _Dec._ 1892.




                               CONTENTS.


                                                         PAGE

  PSALM  I.                                                 1

    "    II.                                               11

    "    III.                                              23

    "    IV.                                               30

    "    V.                                                37

    "    VI.                                               49

    "    VII.                                              57

    "    VIII.                                             68

    "    IX.                                               77

    "    X.                                                89

    "    XI.                                              101

    "    XII.                                             109

    "    XIII.                                            117

    "    XIV.                                             123

    "    XV.                                              132

    "    XVI.                                             140

    "    XVII.                                            150

    "    XVIII.                                           163

    "    XIX.                                             186

    "    XX.                                              195

    "    XXI.                                             201

    "    XXII.                                            208

    "    XXIII.                                           226

    "    XXIV.                                            233

    "    XXV.                                             240

    "    XXVI.                                            251

    "    XXVII.                                           258

    "    XXVIII.                                          268

    "    XXIX.                                            273

    "    XXX.                                             280

    "    XXXI.                                            289

    "    XXXII.                                           302

    "    XXXIII.                                          311

    "    XXXIV.                                           320

    "    XXXV.                                            332

    "    XXXVI.                                           344

    "    XXXVII.                                          356

    "    XXXVIII.                                         375




                                PSALM I.

  1  Happy the man who has not walked in the counsel of the wicked,
     And has not stood in the way of sinners,
     And in the session of scorners has not sat.
  2  But in the law of Jehovah [is] his delight,
     And in His law he meditates day and night.
  3  And he is like a tree planted by the runnels of water,
     Which yields its fruit in its season,
     And whose leafage does not fade,
     And all which he does he prosperously accomplishes.

  4  Not so are the wicked,
     But like chaff which the wind drives away.
  5  Therefore the wicked shall not stand in the judgment,
     Nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.
  6  For Jehovah knows the righteous,
     And the way of the wicked shall perish.


The Psalter may be regarded as the heart's echo to the speech of God,
the manifold music of its wind-swept strings as God's breath sweeps
across them. Law and Prophecy are the two main elements of that speech,
and the first two psalms, as a double prelude to the book, answer to
these, the former setting forth the blessedness of loving and keeping
the law, and the latter celebrating the enthronement of Messiah. Jewish
tradition says that they were originally one, and a well-attested
reading of Acts xiii. 33 quotes "Thou art my Son" as part of "the first
Psalm." The diversity of subject makes original unity improbable, but
possibly our present first Psalm was prefixed, unnumbered.

Its theme, the blessedness of keeping the law, is enforced by the
juxtaposition of two sharply contrasted pictures, one in bright light,
another in deep shadow, and each heightening the other. Ebal and
Gerizim face one another.

The character and fate of the lover of the law are sketched in vv.
1-3, and that of the "wicked" in vv. 4-6.

"How abundantly is that word Blessed multiplied in the Book of Psalms!
The book seems to be made out of that word, and the foundation raised
upon that word, for it is the first word of the book. But in all the
book there is not one Woe" (Donne).

It is usually taken as an exclamation, but may equally well be a
simple affirmation, and declares a universal truth even more strongly,
if so regarded. The characteristics which thus bring blessedness are
first described negatively, and that order is significant. As long as
there is so much evil in the world, and society is what it is,
godliness must be largely negative, and its possessors "a people whose
laws are different from all people that be on earth." Live fish swim
against the stream; dead ones go with it.

The tender graces of the devout soul will not flourish unless there be
a wall of close-knit and unparticipating opposition round them, to
keep off nipping blasts. The negative clauses present a climax,
notwithstanding the unquestionable correctness of one of the grounds
on which that has been denied--namely, the practical equivalence of
"wicked" and "sinner."

Increasing closeness and permanence of association are obvious in the
progress from _walking_ to _standing_ and from standing to _sitting_.
Increasing boldness in evil is marked by the progress from _counsel_
to _way_, or course of life, and thence to _scoffing_. Evil purposes
come out in deeds, and deeds are formularised at last in bitter
speech. Some men scoff because they have already sinned. The tongue is
blackened and made sore by poison in the system. Therefore goodness
will avoid the smallest conformity with evil, as knowing that if the
hem of the dress or the tips of the hair be caught in the cruel
wheels, the whole body will be drawn in. But these negative
characteristics are valuable mainly for their efficacy in contributing
to the positive, as the wall round a young plantation is there for the
sake of what grows behind it. On the other hand, these positive
characteristics, and eminently that chief one of a higher love, are
the only basis for useful abstinence. Mere conventional, negative
virtue is of little power or worth unless it flow from a strong set of
the soul in another direction.

"So did not I" is good and noble when we can go on to say, as Nehemiah
did, "because of the fear of God." The true way of floating rubbish
out is to pour water in. Delight in the law will deliver from delight
in the counsel of the wicked. As the negative, so the positive begins
with the inward man. The main thing about all men is the direction of
their "delight." Where do tastes run? what pleases them most? and
where are they most at ease? Deeds will follow the current of desires,
and be right if the hidden man of the heart be right. To the psalmist,
that law was revealed by Pentateuch and prophets; but the delight in
it, in which he recognises the germ of godliness, is the coincidence
of will and inclination with the declared will of God, however
declared. In effect, he reduces perfection to the same elements as the
other psalmist who sang, "I delight to do Thy will, yea, Thy law is
within my heart." The secret of blessedness is self-renunciation,--

          "A love to lose my will in His,
              And by that loss be free."

Thoughts which are sweet will be familiar.

The command to Joshua is the instinct of the devout man. In the
distractions and activities of the busy day the law beloved will be
with him, illuminating his path and shaping his acts. In hours of rest
it will solace weariness and renew strength. That habit of patient,
protracted brooding on the revelation of God's will needs to be
cultivated. Men live meanly because they live so fast. Religion lacks
depth and volume because it is not fed by hidden springs.

The good man's character being thus all condensed into one trait, the
psalm next gathers his blessedness up in one image. The tree is an
eloquent figure to Orientals, who knew water as the one requisite to
turn desert into garden. Such a life as has been sketched will be
rooted and steadfast. "Planted" is expressed by a word which suggests
fixity. The good man's life is deeply anchored, and so rides out
storms. It goes down through superficial fleeting things to that
Eternal Will, and so stands unmoved and upright when winds howl.
Scotch firs lift massive, corrugated boles, and thrust out wide,
gnarled branches clothed in steadfast green, and look as if they could
face any tempest, but their roots run laterally among the surface
gravel, and therefore they go down before blasts which feeble
saplings, that strike theirs vertically, meet unharmed.

Such a life is fed and refreshed. The law of the Lord is at once soil
and stream. In the one aspect fastening a life to it gives stability;
in the other, freshening and means of growth. Truly loved, that Will
becomes, in its manifold expressions, as the divided irrigation
channels through which a great river is brought to the roots of each
plant. If men do not find it life-giving as rivers of water in a dry
place, it is because they do not delight in it. Opposed, it is
burdensome and harsh; accepted, this sweet image tells what it
becomes--the true good, the only thing that really nourishes and
reinvigorates. The disciples came back to Jesus, whom they had left
too wearied and faint to go with them to the city, and found Him fresh
and strong. Their wonder was answered by, "My meat is to do the will
of Him that sent me."

Such a life is vigorous and productive. It would be artificial straining
to assign definite meanings to "fruit" and "leaf." All that belongs to
vigorous vitality and beauty is included. These come naturally when the
preceding condition is fulfilled. This stage of the psalm is the
appropriate place for deeds to come into view. By loving fellowship with
God and delight in His law the man is made capable of good. His virtues
are growths, the outcome of life. The psalm anticipates Christ's
teaching of the good tree bringing forth good fruit, and also tells how
His precept of making the tree good is to be obeyed--namely, by
transplanting it from the soil of self-will to that of delight in the
law. How that transplanting is to be effected it does not tell. "But now
being made free from sin, and become servants of God, ye have your fruit
unto holiness," and the fruit of the Spirit in "whatsoever things are
lovely and of good report" hangs in clusters on the life that has been
shifted from the realm of darkness and rooted in Christ. The relation is
more intimate still. "I am the vine, ye are the branches. He that
abideth in me, and I in him, the same beareth much fruit."

Such a life will be prosperous. The figure is abandoned here. The
meaning is not affected whether we translate "whatsoever he doeth
shall prosper," or "whatsoever ... he shall cause to succeed." That is
not unconditionally true now, nor was it then, if referred to what the
world calls prospering, as many a sad and questioning strain in the
Psalter proves. He whose life is rooted in God will have his full
share of foiled plans and abortive hopes, and will often see the fruit
nipped by frost or blown green from the boughs, but still the promise
is true in its inmost meaning. For what is prosperity? Does the
psalmist merely mean to preach the more vulgar form of the doctrine
that religion makes the best of both worlds? or are his hopes to be
harmonised with experience, by giving a deeper meaning to
"prosperity"? They to whom the will of God is delight can never be
hurt by evil, for all that meets them expresses and serves that will,
and the fellow-servants of the King do not wound one another. If a
life be rooted in God and a heart delight in His law, that life will
be prosperous and that heart will be at rest.

The second half of the psalm gives the dark contrast of the fruitless,
rootless life (vv. 4-6). The Hebrew flashes the whole dread antithesis
on the view at once by its first word, "Not so," a universal negative,
which reverses every part of the preceding picture. "Wicked" is
preferable to "ungodly," as the designation of the subjects. Whether
we take the root idea of the word to be "restless," as most of the
older and many modern commentators do, or "crooked" (Hupfeld), or
"loose, flaccid" (Delitzsch), it is the opposite of "righteous," and
therefore means one who lives not by the law of God, but by his own
will. The psalmist has no need to describe him further nor to
enumerate his deeds. The fundamental trait of his character is enough.
Two classes only, then, are recognised here. If a man has not God's
uttered will for his governor, he goes into the category of "wicked."
That sounds harsh doctrine, and not corresponding to the innumerable
gradations of character actually seen. But it does correspond to
facts, if they are grasped in their roots of motive and principle. If
God be not the supreme delight, and His law sovereign, some other
object is men's delight and aim, and that departure from God taints a
life, however fair it may be. It is a plain deduction from our
relations to God that lives lived irrespective of Him are sinful,
whatever be their complexion otherwise.

The remainder of the psalm has three thoughts--the real nullity of such
lives, their consequent disappearance in "the judgment," and the ground
of both the blessedness of the one type of character and the vanishing
of the other in the diverse attitude of God to each. Nothing could more
vividly suggest the essential nothingness of the "wicked" than the
contrast of the leafy beauty of the fruit-laden tree and the chaff,
rootless, fruitless, lifeless, light, and therefore the sport of every
puff of wind that blows across the elevated and open threshing floor.

Such is indeed a true picture of every life not rooted in God and
drawing fertility from Him. It is rootless; for what hold-fast is there
but in Him? or where shall the heart twine its tendrils if not round
God's stable throne? or what basis do fleeting objects supply for him
who builds elsewhere than on the enduring Rock? It is fruitless; for
what is fruit? There may be much activity and many results satisfying to
part of man's nature and admired by others. One fruit there will be, in
character elaborated. But if we ask what ought to be the products of a
life, man and God being what they are in themselves and to each other,
we shall not wonder if every result of godless energy is regarded by
"those clear eyes and perfect judgment" of heaven as barrenness. In the
light of these higher demands, achievements hymned by the world's
acclamations seem infinitely small, and many a man, rich in the apparent
results of a busy and prosperous life, will find to his dismayed
astonishment that he has nothing to show but unfruitful works of
darkness. Chaff is fruitless because lifeless.

Its disappearance in the winnowing wind is the consequence and
manifestation of its essential nullity. "Therefore" draws the
conclusion of necessary transiency. Just as the winnower throws up his
shovel full into the breeze, and the chaff goes fluttering out of the
floor because it is light, while the wheat falls on the heap because
it is solid, so the wind of judgment will one day blow and deal with
each man according to his nature. It will separate them, whirling away
the one, and not the other. "One shall be taken and the other left."
When does this sifting take effect? The psalmist does not date it.
There is a continually operative law of retribution, and there are
crises of individual or national life, when the accumulated
consequences of evil deeds fall on the doers. But the definite article
prefixed to "judgment" seems to suggest some special "day" of
separation. It is noteworthy and perhaps illuminative that John the
Baptist uses the same figures of the tree and the chaff in his picture
of the Messianic judgments, and that epoch may have been in the
psalmist's mind. Whatever the date, this he is sure of--that the wind
will rise some time, and that, when it does, the wicked will be blown
out of sight. When the judgment comes, the "congregation of the
righteous"--that is, the true Israel within Israel, or, to speak in
Christian language, the true invisible Church--will be freed from
admixture of outward adherents, whose lives give the lie to their
profession. Men shall be associated according to spiritual affinity,
and "being let go," will "go to their own company" and "place,"
wherever that may be.

The ground of these diverse fates is the different attitude of God to
each life. Each clause of the last verse really involves two ideas,
but the pregnant brevity of style states only half of the antithesis
in each, suppressing the second member in the first clause and the
first member in the second clause, and so making the contrast the more
striking by emphasising the cause of an unspoken consequence in the
former, and the opposite consequence of an unspoken cause in the
latter. "The Lord knoweth the way of the righteous [therefore it shall
last]. The Lord knoweth not the way of the wicked [therefore it shall
perish]." The way which the Lord knows abides. "Know" is, of course,
here used in its full sense of loving knowledge, care, and approval,
as in "He knoweth my path" and the like sayings. The direction of the
good man's life is watched, guarded, approved, and blessed by God.
Therefore it will not fail to reach its goal. They who walk patiently
in the paths which He has prepared will find them paths of peace, and
will not tread them unaccompanied, nor ever see them diverging from
the straight road to home and rest. "Commit thy way unto the Lord,"
and let His way be thine, and He shall make thy way prosperous.

The way or course of life which God does not know perishes. A path
perishes when, like some dim forest track, it dies out, leaving the
traveller bewildered amid impenetrable forests, or when, like some
treacherous Alpine track among rotten rocks, it crumbles beneath the
tread. Every course of life but that of the man who delights in and
keeps the law of the Lord comes to a fatal end, and leads to the brink
of a precipice, over which the impetus of descent carries the
reluctant foot. "The path of the just is as the shining light, which
shineth more and more till the noontide of the day. The way of the
wicked is as darkness; they know not at what they stumble."




                               PSALM II.

   1  Why do the nations muster with tumult,
      And the peoples meditate vanity?
   2  The kings of the earth take up their posts,
      And the chieftains sit in counsel together
      Against Jehovah and against His Anointed.
   3  "Let us wrench off their bands,
      And let us fling off from us their cords."

   4  He who sits in the heavens laughs;
      The Lord mocks at them.
   5  Then He speaks to them in His anger-wrath,
      And in His wrath-heat puts them in panic.
   6  ... "And yet I, I have set my King
      Upon Zion, my holy mountain."

   7  I will tell of a decree:
      Jehovah said unto me, My son art thou;
      I have begotten thee this day.
   8  Ask from me and I will give thee the nations as thine inheritance,
      And as thy possession the ends of the earth.
   9  Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron,
      Like a potter's vessel shalt thou shatter them.

  10  And now, O kings, be wise;
      Let yourselves be warned, O judges of the earth.
  11  Serve Jehovah in fear,
      And rejoice in trembling.
  12  Kiss the Son (?), lest He be angry, and ye perish in [your] way;
      For easily may His wrath kindle.
      Blessed are all who take refuge in Him!


Various unsatisfactory conjectures as to a historical basis for this
magnificent lyric have been made, but none succeeds in specifying
events which fit with the situation painted in it. The banded enemies
are rebels, and the revolt is widespread; for the "kings of the earth"
is a very comprehensive, if we may not even say a universal,
expression. If taken in connection with the "uttermost parts of the
earth" (ver. 8), which are the King's rightful dominion, it implies a
sweep of authority and a breadth of opposition quite beyond any
recorded facts. Authorship and date must be left undetermined. The
psalm is anonymous, like Psalm i., and is thereby marked off from the
psalms which follow in Book I., and with one exception are ascribed to
David. Whether these two preludes to the Psalter were set in their
present place on the completion of the whole book, or were prefixed to
the smaller "Davidic" collection, cannot be settled. The date of
composition may have been much earlier than that of either the smaller
or the larger collection.

The true basis of the psalm is not some petty revolt of subject
tribes, even if such could be adduced, but Nathan's prophecy in 2 Sam.
vii., which sets forth the dignity and dominion of the King of Israel
as God's son and representative. The poet-prophet of our psalm may
have lived after many monarchs had borne the title, but failed to
realise the ideal there outlined, and the imperfect shadows may have
helped to lift his thoughts to the reality. His grand poem may be
called an idealising of the monarch of Israel, but it is an idealising
which expected realisation. The psalm is prophecy as well as poetry;
and whether it had contemporaneous persons and events as a
starting-point or not, its theme is a real person, fully possessing
the prerogatives and wielding the dominion which Nathan had declared
to be God's gift to the King of Israel.

The psalm falls into four strophes of three verses each, in the first
three of which the reader is made spectator and auditor of vividly
painted scenes, while in the last the psalmist exhorts the rebels to
return to allegiance.

In the first strophe (vv. 1-3) the conspiracy of banded rebels is set
before us with extraordinary force. The singer does not delay to tell
what he sees, but breaks into a question of astonished indignation as to
what _can_ be the cause of it all. Then, in a series of swift clauses,
of which the vivid movement cannot be preserved in a translation, he
lets us see what had so moved him. The masses of the "nations" are
hurrying tumultuously to the mustering-place; the "peoples" are
meditating revolt, which is smitingly stigmatised in anticipation as
"vanity." But it is no mere uprising of the common herd; "the kings of
the earth" take their stand as in battle-array, and the men of mark and
influence lay their heads together, pressing close to one another on the
divan as they plot. All classes and orders are united in revolt, and
hurry and eagerness mark their action and throb in the words. The rule
against which the revolt is directed is that of "Jehovah and His
Anointed." That is one rule, not two,--the dominion of Jehovah exercised
through the Messiah. The psalmist had grasped firmly the conception that
God's visible rule is wielded by Messiah, so that rebellion against one
is rebellion against both. Their "bands" are the same. Pure monotheist
as the psalmist was, he had the thought of a king so closely associated
with Jehovah, that he could name them in one breath as, in some sense,
sharers of the same throne and struck at by the same revolt. The
foundation of such a conception was given in the designation of the
Davidic monarch as God's vicegerent and representative, but its full
justification is the relation of the historic Christ to the Father whose
throne He shares in glory.

That eloquent "why" may include both the ideas of "for what reason?" and
"to what purpose?" Opposition to that King, whether by communities or
individuals, is unreasonable. Every rising of a human will against the
rule which it is blessedness to accept is absurd, and hopelessly
incapable of justification. The question, so understood, is unanswerable
by the rebels or by any one else. The one mystery of mysteries is that a
finite will should be able to lift itself against the Infinite Will, and
be willing to use its power. In the other aspect, the question, like
that pregnant "vanity," implies the failure of all rebellion. Plot and
strive, conspire and muster, as men may, all is vanity and striving of
wind. It is destined to break down from the beginning. It is as hopeless
as if the stars were to combine to abolish gravitation. That dominion
does not depend on man's acceptance of it, and he can no more throw it
off by opposition than he can fling a somersault into space and so get
away from earth. When we can vote ourselves out of submission to
physical law, we may plot or fight ourselves out of subjection to the
reign of Jehovah and of His Anointed.

All the self-will in the world does not alter the fact that the
authority of Christ is sovereign over human wills. We cannot get away
from it; but we can either lovingly embrace it, and then it is our
life, or we can set ourselves against it, like an obstinate ox
planting its feet and standing stock-still, and then the goad is
driven deep and draws blood.

The metaphor of bands and cords is taken from the fastenings of the
yoke on a draught bullock. One can scarcely miss the lovely contrast
of this truculent exhortation to rebellion with the gracious summons
"Take my yoke upon you and learn of me." The "bands" are already on
our necks in a very real sense, for we are all under Christ's
authority, and opposition is rebellion, not the effort to prevent a
yoke being imposed, but to shake off one already laid on. But yet the
consent of our own wills is called for, and thereby we take the yoke,
which is a stay rather than a fetter, and bear the burden which bears
up those who bear it.

Psalm i. set side by side in sharp contrast the godly and the godless.
Here a still more striking transition is made in the second strophe
(vv. 4-6), which changes the scene to heaven. The lower half of the
picture is all eager motion and strained effort; the upper is full of
Divine calm. Hot with hatred, flushed with defiant self-confidence and
busy with plots, the rebels hurry together like swarming ants on their
hillock. "He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh." That
representation of the seated God contrasts grandly with the stir on
earth. He needs not to rise from His throned tranquillity, but regards
undisturbed the disturbances of earth. The thought embodied is like
that expressed in the Egyptian statues of gods carved out of the side
of a mountain, "moulded in colossal calm," with their mighty hands
laid in their laps and their wide-opened eyes gazing down on the
little ways of the men creeping about their feet.

And what shall we say of that daring and awful image of the laughter
of God? The attribution of such action to Him is so bold that no
danger of misunderstanding it is possible. It sends us at once to look
for its translation, which probably lies in the thought of the
essential ludicrousness of opposition, which is discerned in heaven to
be so utterly groundless and hopeless as to be absurd. "When He came
nigh and beheld the city, He wept over it." The two pictures are not
incapable of being reconciled. The Christ who wept over sinners is the
fullest revelation of the heart of God, and the laughter of the psalm
is consistent with the tears of Jesus as He stood on Olivet, and
looked across the glen to the Temple glittering in the morning sun.

God's laughter passes into the utterance of His wrath at the time
determined by Him. The silence is broken by His voice, and the
motionless form flashes into action. One movement is enough to "vex"
the enemies and fling them into panic, as a flock of birds put to
flight by the lifting of an arm. There is a point, known to God alone,
when He perceives that the fulness of time has come, and the
opposition must be ended. By long-drawn-out, gentle patience He has
sought to win to obedience (though that side of His dealings is not
presented in this psalm), but the moment arrives when in world-wide
catastrophes or crushing blows on individuals sleeping retribution
wakes at the right moment, determined by considerations inappreciable
by us: "Then does He speak in His wrath."

The last verse of this strophe is parallel with the last of the
preceding, being, like it, the dramatically introduced speech of the
actor in the previous verses. The revolters' mutual encouragement is
directly answered by the sovereign word of God, which discloses the
reason for the futility of their attempts. The "I" of ver. 6 is
emphatic. On one side is that majestic "I have set my King"; on the
other a world of rebels. They may put their shoulders to the throne
of the Anointed to overthrow it; but what of that? God's hand holds it
firm, whatever forces press on it. All enmity of banded or of single
wills breaks against and is dashed by it into ineffectual spray.

Another speaker is next heard, the Anointed King, who, in the third
strophe (vv. 7-9), bears witness to Himself and claims universal
dominion as His by a Divine decree. "Thou art my son; to-day have I
begotten thee." So runs the first part of the decree. The allusion to
Nathan's words to David is clear. In them the prophet spoke of the
succession of David's descendants, the king as a collective person, so
to speak. The psalmist, knowing how incompletely any or all of these
had fulfilled the words which were the patent of their kingship,
repeats them in confident faith as certain to be accomplished in the
Messiah-king, who fills the future for him with a great light of hope.
He knew not the historic person in whom the word has to be fulfilled,
but it is difficult to resist the conclusion that he had before him
the prospect of a king living as a man, the heir of the promises. Now,
this idea of sonship, as belonging to the monarch, is much better
illustrated by the fact that Israel, the nation, was so named, than by
the boasts of Gentile dynasties to be sons of Zeus or Ra. The
relationship is moral and spiritual, involving Divine care and love
and appointment to office, and demanding human obedience and use of
dignity for God. It is to be observed that in our psalm the day of the
King's self-attestation is the day of His being "begotten." The point
of time referred to is not the beginning of personal existence, but of
investiture with royalty. With accurate insight, then, into the
meaning of the words, the New Testament takes them as fulfilled in
the Resurrection (Acts xiii. 33; Rom. i. 4). In it, as the first step
in the process which was completed in the Ascension, the manhood of
Jesus was lifted above the limitations and weaknesses of earth, and
began to rise to the throne. The day of His resurrection was, as it
were, the day of the birth of His humanity into royal glory.

Built upon this exaltation to royalty and sonship follows the promise
of universal dominion. Surely the expectation of "the uttermost parts
of the earth for a possession" bursts the bonds of the tiny Jewish
kingdom! The wildest national pride could scarcely have dreamed that
the narrow strip of seaboard, whose inhabitants never entered on any
wide schemes of conquest, should expand into a universal monarchy,
stretching even farther than the giant empires on either side. If such
were the psalmist's expectations, they were never even approximately
fulfilled; but the reference of the glowing words to Messiah's kingdom
is in accordance with the current of prophetic hopes, and need cause
no hesitation to those who believe in prophecy at all.

Universal dominion is God's gift to Messiah. Even while putting His
foot on the step of the throne, Jesus said, "All power is _given_ unto
me." This dominion is founded not on His essential divinity, but on
His suffering and sacrifice. His rule is the rule of God in Him, for
He is the highest form of the Divine self-revelation, and whoso
trusts, loves, and obeys Christ, trusts, loves, and obeys God in Him.
The psalmist did not know in how much more profound a sense than he
attached to his words they were true. They had an intelligible, great,
and true meaning for him. They have a greater for us.

The Divine voice foretells victory over opposition and destruction to
opposers. The sceptre is of iron, though the hand that holds it once
grasped the reed. The word rendered "break" may also be translated,
with a different set of vowels, "shepherd," and is so rendered by the
LXX. (which Rev. ii. 27, etc., follows) and by some other versions.
But, in view of the parallelism of the next clause, "break" is to be
preferred. The truth of Christ's destructive energy is too often
forgotten, and, when remembered, is too often thrown forward into
another world. The history of this world ever since the Resurrection
has been but a record of conquered antagonism to Him. The stone cut
out without hands has dashed against the images of clay and silver and
gold and broken them all. The Gospel of Christ is the great solvent of
institutions not based upon itself. Its work is

          "To cast the kingdoms old
           Into another mould."

Destructive work has still to be done, and its most terrible energy is
to be displayed in the future, when all opposition shall be withered
into nothingness by the brightness of His presence. There are two
kinds of breaking: a merciful one, when His love shatters our pride
and breaks into penitence the earthen vessels of our hearts; and a
terrible one, when the weight of His sceptre crushes, and His hand
casts down in shivers "vessels of wrath, fitted to destruction."

We have listened to three voices, and now, in vv. 10-12, the poet
speaks in solemn exhortation: "Be wise now, ye kings." The "now" is
argumentative, not temporal. It means "since things are so." The kings
addressed are the rebel monarchs whose power seems so puny measured
against that of "my King." But not only these are addressed, but all
possessors of power and influence. Open-eyed consideration of the
facts is true wisdom. The maddest thing a man can do is to shut his
eyes to them and steel his heart against their instruction. This
pleading invitation to calm reflection is the purpose of all the
preceding. To draw rebels to loyalty, which is life, is the meaning of
all appeals to terror. God and His prophet desire that the conviction
of the futility of rebellion with a poor "ten thousand" against "the
king of twenty thousands" should lead to "sending an embassage" to sue
for peace. The facts are before men, that they may be warned and wise.

The exhortation which follows in vv. 11, 12 points to the conduct which
will be dictated by wise reception of instruction. So far as regards
ver. 11 there is little difficulty. The exhortation to "serve Jehovah
with fear and rejoice with trembling" points to obedience founded on awe
of God's majesty,--the fear which love does not cast out, but perfect;
and to the gladness which blends with reverence, but is not darkened by
it. To love and cleave to God, to feel the silent awe of His greatness
and holiness giving dignity and solemnity to our gladness, and from this
inmost heaven of contemplation to come down to a life of practical
obedience--this is God's command and man's blessedness.

The close connection between Jehovah and Messiah in the preceding
sections, in each of which the dominion of the latter is treated as that
of the former and rebellion as against both at once, renders it
extremely improbable that there should be no reference to the King in
this closing hortatory strophe. The view-point of the psalm, if
consistently retained throughout, requires something equivalent to the
exhortation to "kiss the Son" in token of fealty, to follow, "serve
Jehovah." But the rendering "Son" is impossible. The word so translated
is _Bar_, which is the Aramaic for _son_, but is not found in that sense
in the Old Testament except in the Aramaic of Ezra and Daniel and in
Prov. xxxi. 2, a chapter which has in other respects a distinct Aramaic
tinge. No good reason appears for the supposition that the singer here
went out of his way to employ a foreign word instead of the usual _Ben_.
But it is probably impossible to make any good and certain rendering of
the existing text. The LXX. and Targum agree in rendering, "Take hold of
instruction," which probably implies another reading of Hebrew text.
None of the various proposed translations--_e.g._, _Worship purely,
Worship the chosen One_--are without objection; and, on the whole, the
supposition of textual corruption seems best. The conjectural
emendations of Graetz, _Hold fast by warning_, or reproof; Cheyne's
alternative ones, _Seek ye His face_ ("Book of Psalms," adopted from
Bruell) or _Put on [again] His bonds_ ("Orig. of Psalt.," p. 351, adopted
from Lagarde), and Hupfeld's (in his translation) _Cleave to Him_,
obliterate the reference to the King, which seems needful in this
section, as has been pointed out, and depart from the well-established
meaning of the verb--namely, "kiss." These two considerations seem to
require that a noun referring to Messiah, and grammatically object of
the verb, should stand in the place occupied by _Son_. The Messianic
reference of the psalm remains undimmed by the uncertainty of the
meaning of this clause.

The transition from the representative of Jehovah to Jehovah Himself,
which takes place in the next clause, is in accordance with the close
union between them which has marked the whole psalm. It is henceforth
Jehovah only who appears till the close. But the anger which is
destructive, and which may easily flash out like flames from a furnace
mouth, is excited by opposition to Messiah's kingdom, and the
exclusive mention of Jehovah in these closing clauses makes the
picture of the anger the more terrible.

But since the disclosure of the danger of perishing "in [or as to] the
way" or course of rebellious conduct is part of an exhortation, the
purpose of which is that the threatened flash of wrath may never need
to shoot forth, the psalmist will not close without setting forth the
blessed alternative. The sweet benediction of the close bends round to
the opening words of the companion psalm of prelude, and thus
identifies the man who delights in the law of Jehovah with him who
submits to the kingdom of God's Anointed. The expression "put their
trust" literally means to take refuge in. The act of trust cannot be
more beautifully or forcibly described than as the flight of the soul
to God. They who take shelter in God need fear no kindling anger. They
who yield to the King are they who take refuge in Jehovah; and such
never know aught of His kingdom but its blessings, nor experience any
flame of His wrath, but only the happy glow of His love.




                               PSALM III.

  1  Jehovah, how many are my oppressors!
     Many are rising against me.
  2  Many are saying to my soul,
     There is no salvation for him in God. Selah.

  3  And yet Thou, Jehovah, art a shield round me;
     My glory, and the lifter up of my head.
  4  With my voice to Jehovah I cry aloud,
     And He answers me from His holy mountain. Selah.

  5  I laid myself down and slept;
     I awaked; for Jehovah upholds me.
  6  I am not afraid of ten thousands of people,
     Who round about have set themselves against me.

  7  Arise, Jehovah; save me, my God:
     For Thou hast smitten all my enemies [on] the cheek-bone;
     The teeth of the wicked Thou hast broken.
  8  To Jehovah belongs salvation:
     Upon Thy people be Thy blessing. Selah.


Another pair of psalms follows the two of the Introduction. They are
closely connected linguistically, structurally, and in subject. The one
is a morning, the other an evening hymn, and possibly they are placed at
the beginning of the earliest psalter for that reason. Ewald and Hitzig
accept the Davidic authorship, though the latter shifts the period in
David's life at which they were composed to the mutiny of his men at
Ziklag (1 Sam. xxx.). Cheyne thinks that "you will find no situation
which corresponds to these psalms," though you "search the story of
David's life from end to end." He takes the whole of the Psalms from
iii. to xvii., excepting viii., xv., xvi., as a group, "the heart
utterances of the Church amidst some bitter persecution"--namely, "the
period when faithful Israelites were so sorely oppressed both by
traitors in their midst and by Persian tyrants" ("Orig. of Psalt.," pp.
226, 227). But correspondences of the two psalms with David's situation
will strike many readers as being at least as close as that which is
sought to be established with the "spiritual kernel of the nation during
the Persian domination," and the absence of more specific reference is
surely not unnatural in devout song, however strange it would be in
prosaic narrative. We do not look for mention of the actual facts which
wring the poet's soul and were peculiar to him, but are content with his
expression of his religious emotions, which are common to all devout
souls. Who expects Cowper to describe his aberrations of intellect in
the "Olney Hymns"? But who cannot trace the connection of his pathetic
strains with his sad lot? If ever a seeming reference to facts is
pointed out in a so-called Davidic psalm, it is brushed aside as
"prosaic," but the absence of such is, notwithstanding, urged as an
argument against the authorship. Surely that is inconsistent.

This psalm falls into four strophes, three of which are marked by Selah.
In the first (vv. 1, 2) the psalmist recounts his enemies. If we regard
this as a morning psalm, it is touchingly true to experience that the
first waking thought should be the renewed inrush of the trouble which
sleep had for a time dammed back. His enemies are many, and they taunt
him as forsaken of God. Surely it is a strong thing to say that there is
no correspondence here with David's situation during Absalom's revolt.
It was no partial conspiracy, but practically the nation had risen
against him, "ut totidem fere haberet hostes quot subditos" (Calvin).

Shimei's foul tongue spoke the general mind: "The Lord hath delivered
the kingdom into the hand of Absalom" (2 Sam. xvi. 8). There had been
sin enough in the king's recent past to give colour to the
interpretation of his present calamity as the sign of his being
forsaken of God. The conviction that such was the fact would swell the
rebel ranks. The multitude has delight in helping to drown a sinking
man who has been prosperous. The taunt went deep, for the Hebrew has
"to my soul," as if the cruel scoff cut like a knife to the very
centre of his personality, and wounded all the more because it gave
utterance to his own fears. "The Lord hath bidden him," said David
about Shimei's curses. But the psalmist is finding refuge from fears
and foes even in telling how many there are, since he begins his
complaint with "Jehovah." Without that word the exclamations of this
first strophe are the voice of cowardice or despair. With it they are
calmed into the appeal of trust.

The Selah which parts the first from the second strophe is probably a
direction for an instrumental interlude while the singer pauses.

The second strophe (vv. 3, 4) is the utterance of faith, based on
experience, laying hold of Jehovah as defence. By an effort of will
the psalmist rises from the contemplation of surrounding enemies to
that of the encircling Jehovah. In the thickest of danger and dread
there is a power of choice left a man as to what shall be the object
of thought, whether the stormy sea or the outstretched hand of the
Christ. This harassed man flings himself out of the coil of troubles
round about him and looks up to God. He sees in Him precisely what he
needs most at the moment, for in that infinite nature is fulness
corresponding to all emptiness of ours. "A shield around me," as He
had promised to be to Abraham in his peril; "my glory," at a time when
calumny and shame were wrapping him about and his kingdom seemed gone;
"the lifter up of my head," sunk as it is both in sadness and
calamity, since Jehovah can both cheer his spirit and restore his
dignity. And how comes this sudden burst of confidence to lighten the
complaining soul? Ver. 4 tells. Experience has taught him that as
often as he cries to Jehovah he is heard. The tenses in ver. 4 express
a habitual act and a constant result. Not once or twice, but as his
wont, he prays, and Jehovah answers. The normal relation between him
and Jehovah is that of frank communion; and since it has long been so
and is so now, even the pressure of present disaster does not make
faith falter. It is hard to begin to trust when in the grip of
calamity, but feet accustomed to the road to God can find it in the
dark. There may be an allusion to David's absence from sanctuary and
ark in ver. 4. The expectation of being answered "from His holy hill"
gains in pathetic force when the lovely scene of submissive sacrifice
in which he sent back the Ark is recalled (2 Sam. xv. 25). Though he
be far from the place of prayer, and feeling the pain of absence, the
singer's faith is not so tied to form as to falter in the assurance
that his prayer is heard. Jehovah is shield, glory, and strengthener
to the man who cries to Him, and it is by means of such crying that
the heart wins the certitude that He is all these. Again the
instruments sound and the singer pauses.

The third strophe (vv. 5, 6) beautifully expresses the tranquil
courage which comes from trust. Since sleeping and safe waking again
in ordinary circumstances is no such striking proof of Divine help
that one in the psalmist's situation would be induced to think
especially of it and to found his confidence on it, the view is to be
taken that the psalmist in ver. 5 is contemplating the experience
which he has just made in his present situation. "Surrounded by
enemies, he was quite safe under God's protection and exposed to no
peril even in the night" (Riehm, in Hupfeld _in loc._). Surely
correspondence with David's circumstances may be traced here. His
little band had no fortress in Mahanaim, and Ahithophel's counsel to
attack them by night was so natural that the possibility must have
been present to the king. But another night had come and gone in
safety, disturbed by no shout of an enemy. The nocturnal danger had
passed, and day was again brightening.

They were safe because the Keeper of Israel had kept them. It is
difficult to fit this verse into the theory that here the persecuted
Israelitish Church is speaking, but it suits the situation pointed to
in the superscription. To lie down and sleep in such circumstances was
itself an act of faith, and a sign of the quiet heart which faith
gives. Like Christ on the hard wooden "pillow" during the storm, or
like Peter sleeping an infant's sleep the night before his purposed
execution, this man can shut his eyes and quiet himself to slumber,
though "ten thousands have set themselves against him." They ring him
round, but cannot reach him through his shield. Ver. 6 rises to bold
defiance, the result of the experience in ver. 5. How different the
tone of reference to the swarms of the enemy here and in ver. 1! There
the psalmist was counting them and cowering before them; here their
very number is an element in his triumphant confidence. Courage comes
from thinking of the one Divine Ally, before whom myriads of enemies
are nothing. One man with God to back him is always in the majority.
Such courage, based on such experience and faith, is most modest and
reasonable, but it is not won without an effort of will, which refuses
to fear, and fixes a trustful gaze not on peril, but on the protector.
"I will not be afraid" speaks of resolve and of temptations to fear,
which it repels, and from "the nettle danger plucks the flower"
_trust_ and the fruit _safety_. Selah does not follow here. The tone
of the strophe is that of lowly confidence, which is less congruous
with an instrumental interlude than are the more agitated preceding
strophes. The last strophe, too, is closely connected with the third,
since faith bracing itself against fear glides naturally into prayer.

The final strophe (vv. 7, 8) gives the culmination of faith in prayer.
"Arise, Jehovah," is quoted from the ancient invocation (Num. x. 35),
and expresses in strongly anthropomorphic form the desire for some
interposition of Divine power. Fearlessness is not so complete that
the psalmist is beyond the need of praying. He is courageous because
he knows that God will help, but he knows, too, that God's help
depends on his prayer. The courage which does not pray is foolish, and
will break down into panic; that which fears enough to cry "Arise,
Jehovah," will be vindicated by victory. This prayer is built on
experience, as the preceding confidence was. The enemies are now,
according to a very frequent figure in the Psalter, compared to wild
beasts. Smiting on the cheek is usually a symbol of insult, but here
is better taken in close connection with the following "breaking the
teeth." By a daring image Jehovah is represented as dealing the beasts
of prey, who prowl round the psalmist with open mouth, the buffets
which shatter their jaws and dislodge their teeth, thus making them
powerless to harm him. So it has been in the past, and that past is a
plea that so it will be now. God will be but doing as He has done, if
now He "arise." If He is to be true to Himself, and not to stultify
His past deliverances, He must save his suppliant now. Such is the
logic of faith, which is only valid on the supposition that God's
resources and purpose are inexhaustible and unchangeable. The whole
ends with confident anticipation of an answer. "Salvation belongeth
unto Jehovah." The full spiritual meaning of that salvation was not
yet developed. Literally, the word means "breadth," and so, by a
metaphor common to many languages, deliverance as an act, and
well-being or prosperity as a state. Deliverance from his enemies is
the psalmist's main idea in the word here. It "belongs to Jehovah,"
since its bestowal is His act. Thus the psalmist's last utterance of
trust traverses the scoff which wounded him so much (ver. 2), but in a
form which beautifully combines affiance and humility, since it
triumphantly asserts that salvation is in God's power, and silently
implies that what is thus God's "to will and do" shall certainly be
His suppliant's to enjoy.

Intensely personal as the psalm is, it is the prayer of a king; and
rebels as the bulk of the people are ("ten thousands of the people"),
they are still God's. Therefore all are included in the scope of his
pitying prayer. In other psalms evil is invoked on evil-doers, but
here hate is met by love, and the self-absorption of sorrow
counteracted by wide sympathy. It is a lower exemplification of the
same spirit which breathed from the lips of the greater King the
prayer, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."




                               PSALM IV.

  1   When I cry answer me, O God of my righteousness; Thou hast in
            straits made space for me:
      Be gracious to me and hear my prayer.
  2   Sons of men! how long shall my glory be mocked, [in that] ye love
            vanity,
      [And] seek after a lie? Selah.
  3   But know that Jehovah has set apart as His own him whom He
            favours:
      Jehovah hears when I cry to Him.
  4   Stand in awe, and sin not:
      Speak in your hearts on your beds, and be silent. Selah.
  5   Sacrifice sacrifices of righteousness,
      And trust on Jehovah.
  6   Many are saying, Who will let us see good?
      Lift Thou upon us the light of Thy face, O Jehovah.
  7   Thou hast given gladness in my heart,
      More than in the time of their corn and their wine [when] they
            abound.
  8   In peace will I lie down and at once sleep:
      For Thou, Jehovah, in [my] loneliness, makest me dwell in safety.


Psalms iii. and iv. are a pair. They are similar in expression (_my
glory, there be many which say, I laid me down and slept_), in the
psalmist's situation, and in structure (as indicated by the _Selahs_).
But they need not be cotemporaneous, nor need the superscription of
Psalm iii. be extended to Psalm iv. Their tone is different, the
fourth having little reference to the personal danger so acutely felt
in Psalm iii., and being mainly a gentle, earnest remonstrance with
antagonists, seeking to win them to a better mind. The strophical
division into four parts of two verses each, as marked by the Selahs,
is imperfectly carried out, as in Psalm iii., and does not correspond
with the logical division--a phenomenon which occurs not infrequently
in the Psalter, as in all poetry, where the surging thought or emotion
overleaps its bounds. Dividing according to the form, we have four
strophes, of which the first two are marked by Selah; dividing by the
flow of thought, we have three parts of unequal length--prayer (ver.
1), remonstrance (vv. 2-5), communion and prayer (vv. 6-8).

The cry for an answer by deed is based on the name and on the past
acts of God. Grammatically, it would be possible and regular to render
"my God of righteousness," _i.e._, "my righteous God"; but the pronoun
is best attached to "righteousness" only, as the consideration that
God is righteous is less relevant than that He is the source of the
psalmist's righteousness. Since He is so, He may be expected to
vindicate it by answering prayer by deliverance. He who feels that all
good in himself comes from God may be quite sure that, sooner or
later, and by some means or other, God will witness to His own work.
To the psalmist nothing was so incredible as that God should not take
care of what He had planted, or let the springing crop be trodden down
or rooted up. The Old Testament takes prosperity as the Divine
attestation of righteousness; and though they who worship the Man of
Sorrows have new light thrown on the meaning of that conception, the
substance of it remains true for ever. The compellation "God of my
righteousness" is still mighty with God. The second ground of the
prayer is laid in the past deeds of God. Whether the clause "Thou hast
in straits made space for me" be taken relatively or not, it appeals
to former deliverances as reasons for man's prayer and for God's act.
In many languages trouble and deliverance are symbolised by narrowness
and breadth. Compression is oppression. Closely hemmed in by crowds or
by frowning rocks, freedom of movement is impossible and breathing is
difficult. But out in the open, one expatiates, and a clear horizon
means an ample sky.

The strophe division keeps together the prayer and the beginning of
the remonstrance to opponents, and does so in order to emphasise the
eloquent, sharp juxtaposition of God and the "sons of men." The phrase
is usually employed to mean persons of position, but here the contrast
between the varying height of men's molehills is not so much in view
as that between them all and the loftiness of God. The lips which by
prayer have been purged and cured of quivering can speak to foes
without being much abashed by their dignity or their hatred. But the
very slight reference to the psalmist's own share in the hostility of
these "sons of men" is noticeable. It is their false relation to God
which is prominent throughout the remonstrance; and that being so, "my
glory," in ver. 2, is probably to be taken, as in iii. 3, as a
designation of God. It is usually understood to mean either personal
or official dignity, but the suggested interpretation is more in
keeping with the tone of the psalm. The enemies were really flouting
God and turning that great name in which the singer gloried into a
jest. They were not therefore idolaters, but practical heathen in
Israel, and their "vanity" and "lies" were their schemes doomed to
fail and their blasphemies. These two verses bring most vividly into
view the contrast between the psalmist clinging to his helping God and
the knot of opponents hatching their plans which are sure to fail.

The Selah indicates a pause in the song, as if to underscore the
question "How long?" and let it soak into the hearts of the foes, and
then, in vv. 3 and 4, the remonstrating voice presses on them the
great truth which has sprung anew in the singer's soul in answer to
his prayer, and beseeches them to let it stay their course and still
their tumult. By "the godly" is meant, of course the psalmist. He is
sure that he belongs to God and is set apart, so that no real evil can
touch him; but does he build this confidence on his own character or
on Jehovah's grace? The answer depends on the meaning of the pregnant
word rendered "godly," which here occurs for the first time in the
Psalter. So far as its form is concerned, it may be either active, one
who shows _chesed_ (lovingkindness or favour), or passive, one to whom
it is shown. But the usage in the Psalter seems to decide in favour of
the passive meaning, which is also more in accordance with the general
biblical view, which traces all man's hopes and blessings, not to his
attitude to God, but to God's to him, and regards man's love to God as
a derivative, "Amati amamus, amantes amplius meremur amari" (Bern).
Out of His own deep heart of love Jehovah has poured His
lovingkindness on the psalmist, as he thrillingly feels, and He will
take care that His treasure is not lost; therefore this conviction,
which has flamed up anew since the moment before when he prayed,
brings with it the assurance that He "hears when I cry," as he had
just asked Him to do. The slight emendation, adopted by Cheyne from
Graetz and others, is tempting, but unnecessary. He would read, with a
small change which would bring this verse into parallelism with xxxi.
22, "See how passing great lovingkindness Jehovah hath shown me"; but
the present text is preferable, inasmuch as what we should expect to
be urged upon the enemies is not outward facts, but some truth of
faith neglected by them. On such a truth the singer rests his own
confidence; such a truth he lays, like a cold hand, on the hot brows
of the plotters, and bids them pause and ponder. Believed, it would
fill them with awe, and set in a lurid light the sinfulness of their
assault on him. Clearly the rendering "Be ye angry" instead of "Stand
in awe" gives a less worthy meaning, and mars the picture of the
progressive conversion of the enemy into a devout worshipper, of which
the first stage is the recognition of the truth in ver. 3; the second
is the awestruck dropping of the weapons, and the third is the silent
reflection in the calm and solitude of night. The psalm being an
evening song, the reference to "your bed" is the more natural; but
"speak in your hearts"--what? The new fact which you have learned from
my lips. Say it quietly to yourselves then, when forgotten truths
blaze on the waking eye, like phosphorescent writing in the dark, and
the nobler self makes its voice heard. "Speak ... and be silent," says
the psalmist, for such meditation will end the busy plots against him,
and in a wider application "that dread voice," heard in the awed
spirit, "shrinks the streams" of passion and earthly desires, which
otherwise brawl and roar there. Another strain of the "stringed
instruments" makes that silence, as it were, audible, and then the
remonstrance goes on once more.

It rises higher now, exhorting to positive godliness, and that in the
two forms of offering "sacrifices of righteousness," which here simply
means those which are prescribed or which are offered with right
dispositions, and of trusting in Jehovah--the two aspects of true
religion, which outwardly is worship and inwardly is trust. The poet
who could meet hate with no weapon but these earnest pleadings had
learned a better lesson than "the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn,
the love of love," and anticipated "bless them which curse you." The
teacher who thus outlined the stages of the way back to God as
recognition of His relation to the godly, solitary meditation thereon,
forsaking of sin and hushing of the Spirit thereby, and finally
worship and trust, knew the discipline for rebellious souls.

Ver. 6 seems at first sight to belong more closely to what follows
than to what precedes, and is taken by those who hold the Davidic
authorship as addressed to his followers beginning to despond. But it
may be the continuance of the address to the enemies, carrying on the
exhortation to trust. The sudden appearance of the plural "us"
suggests that the psalmist associates himself with the persons whom he
has been addressing, and, while he glances at the vain cries of the
"many," would make himself the mouthpiece of the nascent faith which
he hopes may follow his beseechings. The cry of _the many_ would, in
that case, have a general reference to the universal desire for
"good," and would pathetically echo the hopelessness which must needs
mingle with it, so long as the heart does not know who is the only
good. The passionate weariness of the question, holding a negation in
itself, is wonderfully contrasted with the calm prayer. The eyes fail
for want of seeing the yearned-for blessing; but if Jehovah lifts the
light of His face upon us, as He will certainly do in answer to
prayer, "in His light we shall see light." Every good, however
various, is sphered in Him. All colours are smelted into the perfect
white and glory of His face.

There is no Selah after ver. 6, but, as in iii. 6, one is due, though
omitted.

Vv. 7 and 8 are separated from ver. 6 by their purely personal
reference. The psalmist returns to the tone of his prayer in ver. 1,
only that petition has given place, as it should do, to possession and
confident thankfulness. The many ask, Who?; he prays, "Lord." They have
vague desires after God; he knows what he needs and wants. Therefore in
the brightness of that Face shining on him his heart is glad. The mirth
of harvest and vintage is exuberant, but it is poor beside the deep,
still blessedness which trickles round the heart that craves most the
light of Jehovah's countenance. That craving is joy and the fruition is
bliss. The psalmist here touches the bottom, the foundation fact on
which every life that is not vanity must be based, and which verifies
itself in every life that is so based. Strange and tragic that men
should forget it and love vanity which mocks them, and, though won,
still leaves them looking wearily round the horizon for any glimmer of
good! The glad heart possessing Jehovah can, on the other hand, lay
itself down in peace and sleep, though foes stand round. The last words
of the psalm flow restfully like a lullaby. The expression of confidence
gains much if "alone" be taken as referring to the psalmist. Solitary as
he is, ringed round by hostility as he may be, Jehovah's presence makes
him safe, and being thus safe, he is secure and confidant. So he shuts
his eyes in peace, though he may be lying in the open, beneath the
stars, without defences or sentries. The Face brings light in darkness,
gladness in want, enlargement in straits, safety in peril, and any and
every good that any and every man needs.




                                PSALM V.

   1  Give ear to my words, Jehovah;
      Consider my meditation.
   2  Listen to the voice of my crying, my King and my God,
      For to Thee do I make supplication.
   3  Jehovah, in the morning Thou shalt hear my voice;
      In the morning will I order my [prayer] to Thee and keep watch.

   4  For not a God delighting in wickedness art Thou;
      Evil cannot sojourn with Thee.
   5  Fools cannot stand before Thine eyes;
      Thou hatest all workers of iniquity.
   6  Thou destroyest the speakers of falsehood;
      The man of blood and deceit Jehovah loathes.
   7  But I, in the multitude of Thy loving-kindness I dare come into
            Thy house;
      I dare fall prostrate before Thy holy temple in Thy fear.

   8  Jehovah, lead me in Thy righteousness, because of them that are
            spies on me;
      Make Thy way level before me.
   9  For in his mouth is nothing trustworthy;
      Their inward part is destruction;
      An open grave is their throat;
      Their tongue they smooth.

  10  Hold them guilty, Jehovah: let them fall by their own schemes;
      In the multitude of their transgressions strike them down, for
            they have rebelled against Thee.
  11  Then shall all those who take refuge in Thee be glad;
      For ever shall they shout for joy, since Thou dost shelter them;
      And they that love Thy name shall exult in Thee.
  12  For Thou dost bless the righteous;
      Jehovah, as with a shield, with favour dost Thou compass him
            about.


The reference to the temple in ver. 7 is not conclusive against the
Davidic authorship of this psalm, since the same word is applied in 1
Sam. i. 9 and iii. 3 to the house of God in Shiloh. It means a
palace, and may well be used for any structure, even if a hair tent,
in which God dwelt. No doubt it is oftenest used for the Solomonic
temple, but it does not necessarily refer to it. Its use here, then,
cannot be urged as fatal to the correctness of the superscription. At
the same time, it does create a certain presumption against it. But
there is nothing in the psalm to determine its date, and its worth is
quite independent of its authorship. The psalmist is surrounded by
foes, and seeks access to God. These are constant features of the
religious life, and their expression here fits as closely to the
present time as to any past.

The psalm falls into two main parts: vv. 1-7 and 8-12. The former
division deals with the inner side of the devout life, its access to
God, to whom sinful men cannot approach, the latter with the outward
side, the conduct, "the way" in which the psalmist seeks to be led, and
in which sinful men come to ruin because they will not walk. Naturally
the inward comes first, for communion with God in the secret place of
the Most High must precede all walking in His way and all blessed
experience of His protection, with the joy that springs from it. These
two halves of the psalm are arranged in inverted parallelism, the first
verse of the second part (ver. 8) corresponding to the last verse of the
first (ver. 7) and being, like it, purely personal; vv. 9 and 10
corresponding similarly to vv. 4-6 and, like them, painting the
character and fate of evil-doers; and, finally, vv. 11, 12, answering to
vv. 1-3 and representing the blessedness of the devout soul, as in the
one case led and protected by God and therefore glad, and in the other
abiding in His presence. The whole is a prayerful meditation on the
inexhaustible theme of the contrasted blessedness of the righteous and
misery of the sinner as shown in the two great halves of life: the
inward of communion and the outward of action.

In the first part (vv. 1-7) the central thought is that of access to
God's presence, as the desire and purpose of the psalmist (1-3), as
barred to evil-doers (4-6), and as permitted to, and embraced as his
chief blessing by, the singer (7). The petition to be heard in vv. 1
and 2 passes into confidence that he is heard in ver. 3. There is no
shade of sadness nor trace of struggle with doubt in this prayer,
which is all sunny and fresh, like the morning sky, through which it
ascends to God. "Consider [or Understand] my meditation"--the
brooding, silent thought is spread before God, who knows unspoken
desires, and "understands thoughts afar off." The contrast between
"understanding the meditation" and "hearkening to the voice of my cry"
is scarcely unintentional, and gives vividness to the picture of the
musing psalmist, in whom, as he muses, the fire burns, and he speaks
with his tongue, in a "cry" as loud as the silence from which it
issued had been deep. Meditations that do not pass into cries and
cries which are not preceded by meditations are alike imperfect. The
invocation "my King" is full of meaning if the singer be David, who
thus recognises the delegated character of his own royalty; but
whoever wrote the psalm, that expression equally witnesses to his firm
grasp of the true theocratic idea.

Noteworthy is the intensely personal tone of the invocation in both
its clauses, as in the whole of these first verses, in every clause of
which "my" or "I" occurs. The poet is alone with God and seeking to
clasp still closer the guiding hand, to draw still nearer to the
sweet and awful presence where is rest. The invocation holds a plea in
itself. He who says, "My King and my God," urges the relation, brought
about by God's love and accepted by man's faith, as a ground for the
hearing of his petition. And so prayer passes into swift assurance;
and with a new turn in thought, marked by the repetition of the name
"Jehovah" (ver. 3), he speaks his confidence and his resolve. "In the
morning" is best taken literally, whether we suppose the psalm to have
been composed for a morning song or no. Apparently the compilers of
the first Psalter placed it next to Psalm iv., which they regarded as
an evening hymn, for this reason. "I will lay me down and sleep" is
beautifully followed by "In the morning shalt Thou hear my voice." The
order of clauses in ver. 3 is significant in its apparent breach of
strict sequence, by which God's hearing is made to precede the
psalmist's praying. It is the order dictated by confidence, and it is
the order in which the thoughts rise in the trustful heart. He who is
sure that God will hear will therefore address himself to speak. First
comes the confidence, and then the resolve. There are prayers wrung
from men by sore need, and in which doubt causes faltering, but the
happier, serener experience is like that of this singer. He resolves
to "order" his prayer, using there the word employed for the priest's
work in preparing the materials for the morning sacrifice. Thus he
compares his prayer to it, and stands at the same level as the writer
of Psalm iv., with whose command to "offer the sacrifices of
righteousness" this thought again presents a parallel.

A psalmist who has grasped the idea that the true sacrifice is prayer is
not likely to have missed the cognate thought that the "house of the
Lord," of which he will presently speak, is something other than any
material shrine. But to offer the sacrifice is not all which he rejoices
to resolve. He will "keep watch," as Habakkuk said that he would do, on
his watch-tower; and that can only mean that he will be on the outlook
for the answer to his prayer, or, if we may retain the allusion to
sacrifice, for the downward flash of the Divine fire, which tells his
prayer's acceptance. Many a prayer is offered, and no eyes afterwards
turned to heaven to watch for the answer, and perhaps some answers sent
are like water spilled on the ground, for want of such observance.

The confidence and resolve ground themselves on God's holiness,
through which the necessary condition of approach to Him comes to be
purity--a conviction which finds expression in all religions, but is
nowhere so vividly conceived or construed as demanding such stainless
inward whiteness as in the Psalter. The "for" of ver. 4 would
naturally have heralded a statement of the psalmist's grounds for
expecting that he would be welcomed in his approach, but the turn of
thought, which postpones that, and first regards God's holiness as
shutting out the impure, is profoundly significant. "Thou art not a
God that hath pleasure in wickedness" means more than the simple "Thou
hast not pleasure" would do; it argues from the character of God, and
glances at some of the foul deities whose nostrils snuff up sensual
impurity as acceptable sacrifice. The one idea of absolute contrariety
between God and evil is put in a rich variety of shapes in vv. 4-6,
which first deal with it negatively in three clauses (_not a God_;
_not dwell_; _not stand in Thy sight_) and then positively in other
three (_hatest_; _shalt destroy_; _abhorreth_). "Evil shall not
sojourn with Thee." The verb is to be taken in its full meaning of
sojourning as a guest-friend, who has the right to hospitality and
defence. It thus constitutes the antithesis to ver. 7. Clearly the
sojourning does not mean access to the temple, but abiding with God.
The barriers are of the same nature as the communion which they
hinder, and something far deeper is meant than outward access to any
visible shrine. No one sojourned in the temple. In like manner, the
"standing in Thy sight" is a figure drawn from courts, reminding us of
"my King" in ver. 2 and suggesting the impossibility of evil or its
doers approaching the Divine throne.

But there is more than a negative side to the relation between God and
evil, which the psalm goes on to paint in sombre colours, for God not
only does not delight in sin, but hates it with a hatred like the
physical loathing of some disgusting thing, and will gather all His
alienation into one fatal lightning bolt. Such thoughts do not exhaust
the truth as to the Divine relation to sin. They did not exhaust the
psalmist's knowledge of that relation, and still less do they exhaust
ours, but they are parts of the truth to-day as much as then, and
nothing in Christ's revelation has antiquated them.

The psalmist's vocabulary is full of synonyms for sin, which witness to
the profound consciousness of it which law and ritual had evoked in
devout hearts. First, he speaks of it in the abstract, as "wickedness"
and "evil." Then he passes to individuals, of whom he singles out two
pairs, the first a more comprehensive and the second a more specific
designation. The former pair are "the foolish" and "workers of
iniquity." The word for "foolish" is usually translated by the moderns
"arrogant," but the parallelism with the general expression "workers of
iniquity" rather favours a less special meaning, such as Hupfeld's
"fools" or the LXX.'s "transgressors." Only in the last pair are special
forms of evil mentioned, and the two selected are significant of the
psalmist's own experience. _Liars_ and _men of blood and craft_ are his
instances of the sort of sinners most abominable to God. That
specification surely witnesses to his own sufferings from such.

In ver. 7 the psalmist comes back to the personal reference,
contrasting his own access to God with the separation of evil-doers
from His presence. But he does not assert that he has the right of
entrance because he is pure. Very strikingly he finds the ground of
his right of entry to the palace in God's "multitude of mercy," not in
his own innocence. Answering to "in Thy righteousness" is "in Thy
fear." The one phrase expresses God's disposition to man which makes
access possible, the other man's disposition to God which makes
worship acceptable. "In the multitude of Thy mercy" and "in Thy fear,"
taken together, set forth the conditions of approach. Having regard to
ver. 4, it seems impossible to restrict the meaning of "Thy house" to
the material sanctuary. It is rather a symbol of communion,
protection, and friendship. Does the meaning pass into the narrower
sense of outward worship in the material "temple" in the second
clause? It may be fairly taken as doing so (Hupfeld). But it may be
maintained that the whole verse refers to the spiritual realities of
prayer and fellowship, and not at all to the externalities of worship,
which are used as symbols, just as in ver. 3 prayer is symbolised by
the morning sacrifice. But probably it is better to suppose that the
psalmist's faith, though not tied to form, was fed by form, and that
symbol and reality, the outward and the inward worship, the access to
the temple and the approach of the silent soul to God, are fused in
his psalm as they tended to be in his experience. Thus the first part
of the psalm ends with the psalmist prostrate (for so the word for
"worship" means) before the palace sanctuary of his King and God. It
has thus far taught the conditions of approach to God, and given a
concrete embodiment of them in the progress of the singer's thoughts
from petition to assurance and from resolve to accomplishment.

The second part may be taken as his prayer when in the temple, whether
that be the outward sanctuary or no. It is likewise a further carrying
out of the contrast of the condition of the wicked and of the lovers
of God, expressed in terms applying to outward life rather than to
worship. It falls into three parts: the personal prayer for guidance
in life, the contemplation of evil-doers, and the vehement prayer for
their destruction, corresponding to vv. 4-6, and the contrasted prayer
for the righteous, among whom he implies his own inclusion.

The whole of the devout man's desires for himself are summed up in
that prayer for guidance. All which the soul needs is included in
these two: access to God in the depths of still prostration before His
throne as the all-sufficient good for the inner life; guidance, as by
a shepherd, on a plain path, chosen not by self-will but by God, for
the outward. He who has received the former in any degree will in the
same measure have the latter. To dwell in God's house is to desire His
guidance as the chief good. "In Thy righteousness" is capable of two
meanings: it may either designate the path by which the psalmist
desired to be led, or the Divine attribute to which he appealed. The
latter meaning, which is substantially equivalent to "because Thou art
righteous," is made more probable by the other instances in the psalm
of a similar use of "in" (_in the multitude of Thy mercy_; _in Thy
fear_; _in the multitude of their transgressions_). His righteousness
is manifested in leading those who seek for His guidance (compare
Psalm xxv. 8; xxxi. 1, etc.). Then comes the only trace in the psalm
of the presence of enemies, because of whom the singer prays for
guidance. It is not so much that he fears falling into their hands as
that he dreads lest, if left to himself, he may take some step which
will give them occasion for malicious joy in his fall or his calamity.
Wherever a man is earnestly God-fearing, many eyes watch him, and
gleam with base delight if they see him stumble. The psalmist, whether
David or another, had that cross to carry, like every thorough-going
adherent of the religious ideal (or of any lofty ideal, for that
matter); and his prayer shows how heavy it was, since thoughts of it
mingled with even his longings for righteousness. "Plain" does not
mean _obvious_, but _level_, and may possibly include both freedom
from stumbling-blocks ("Lead us not into temptation") and from
calamities, but the prevalent tone of the psalm points rather to the
former. He who knows his own weaknesses may legitimately shrink from
snares and occasions to fall, even though, knowing the wisdom of his
Guide and the help that waits on his steps, he may "count it all joy"
when he encounters them.

The picture of the evil-doers in ver. 9 is introduced, as in ver. 4,
with a "for." The sinners here are evidently the _enemies_ of the
previous verse. Their sins are those of speech; and the force of the
rapid clauses of the picture betrays how recently and sorely the
psalmist had smarted from lies, flatteries, slanders, and all the rest
of the weapons of smooth and bitter tongues. He complains that there
is no faithfulness or steadfastness in "his mouth"--a distributive
singular, which immediately passes into the plural--nothing there that
a man can rely on, but all treacherous. "Their inward part is
destruction." The other rendering, "engulfing ruin" or "a yawning
gulf," is picturesque; but _destruction_ is more commonly the meaning
of the word and yields a vigorous sense here. They plot inwardly the
ruin of the men whom they flatter. The figure is bold. Down to this
pit of destruction is a way like an open sepulchre, the throat
expanded in the act of speech; and the falsely smoothed tongue is like
a slippery approach to the descent (so Jennings and Lowe). Such
figures strike Western minds as violent, but are natural to the East.
The shuddering sense of the deadly power of words is a marked
characteristic of the Psalter. Nothing stirs psalmists to deeper
indignation than "God's great gift of speech abused," and this
generation would be all the better for relearning the lesson.

The psalmist is "in the sanctuary," and there "understands their end,"
and breaks into prayer which is also prophecy. The vindication of such
prayers for the destruction of evil-doers is that they are not the
expressions of personal enmity ("They have rebelled against Thee"),
and that they correspond to one side of the Divine character and acts,
which was prominent in the Old Testament epoch of revelation, and is
not superseded by the New. But they do belong to that lower level; and
to hesitate to admit their imperfection from the Christian point of
view is to neglect the plain teaching of our Lord, who built His law
of the kingdom on the declared relative imperfection of the ethics of
the Old. Terrible indeed are the prayers here. _Hold them
guilty_--that is, probably, treat them as such by punishing; _let them
fall_; _thrust them out_--from Thy presence, if they have ventured
thither, or out into the darkness of death. Let us be thankful that we
dare not pray such prayers, but let us not forget that for the
psalmist not to have prayed them would have indicated, not that he had
anticipated the tenderness of the Gospel, but that he had failed to
learn the lesson of the law and was basely tolerant of baseness.

But we come into the sunshine again at the close, and hear the
contrasted prayer, which thrills with gladness and hope. "When the
wicked perish there is shouting." The servants of God, relieved from
the incubus and beholding the fall of evil, lift up their praises. The
order in which the designations of these servants occur is very
noteworthy. It is surely not accidental that we have them first
described as "those that trust in Thee," then as "all them that love
Thy name," and finally as "the righteous." What is this sequence but
an anticipation of the evangelical order? The root of all is trust,
then love, then righteousness. Love follows trust. "We have known and
believed the love which God hath to us." Righteousness follows trust
and love, inasmuch as by faith the new life enters the heart and
inasmuch as love supplies the great motive for keeping the
commandments. So root, stem, and flower are here, wrapped up, as it
were, in a seed, which unfolds into full growth in the New Testament.
The literal meaning of the word rendered "put their trust" is "flee as
to a refuge," and that beautifully expresses the very essence of the
act of faith; while the same metaphor is carried on in "defendest,"
which literally means _coverest_. The fugitive who shelters in God is
covered by the shadow of His wing. Faith, love, and righteousness are
the conditions of the purest joy. Trust is joy; love is joy; obedience
to a loved law is joy. And round him who thus, in his deepest self,
dwells in God's house and in his daily life walks, with these angels
for his companions, on God's path, which by choice he has made his
own, there is ever cast the broad buckler of God's favour. He is safe
from all evil on whom God looks with love, and he on whom God so looks
is he whose heart dwells in God's house and whose feet "travel on
life's common way in cheerful godliness."




                               PSALM VI.

   1  Jehovah, not in Thine anger do Thou correct me,
      And not in Thy hot wrath do Thou chastise me.
   2  Be gracious to me, Jehovah, for I am withered away;
      Heal me, Jehovah, for my bones are dismayed:
   3  And my soul is sorely dismayed;
      And Thou, Jehovah--how long?

   4  Return, Jehovah, deliver my soul;
      Save me for the sake of Thy loving-kindness.
   5  For in death there is no remembrance of Thee;
      In Sheol who gives thee thanks?

   6  I am wearied out with my groaning;
      Every night I make my bed swim;
      With my tears I melt away my couch.
   7  My eye is wasted with trouble;
      It is aged because of all my oppressors.

   8  Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity,
      For Jehovah has heard the voice of my weeping.
   9  Jehovah has heard my supplication;
      Jehovah will accept my prayer.
  10  Ashamed and sore dismayed shall be all my enemies;
      They shall turn back, shall be ashamed in a moment.


The theme and progress of thought in this psalm are very common,
especially in those attributed to David. A soul compassed by enemies,
whose hate has all but sapped the life out of it, "catches at God's
skirts and prays," and thence wins confidence which anticipates
deliverance and victory. There are numerous variations of this
_leitmotif_, and each of the psalms which embody it has its own beauty,
its own discords resolved into its own harmonies. The representation of
the trouble of spirit as producing wasting of the body is also frequent,
and is apparently not to be taken as metaphor, though not to be pressed,
as if the psalmist were at once struck with the two calamities of
hostility and disease, but the latter is simply the result of the
former, and will disappear with it. It is needless to look for a
historical occasion of the psalm, but to an ear that knows the tones of
sorrow, or to a heart that has itself uttered them, the supposition that
in these pathetic cries we hear only a representative Israelite
bewailing the national ruin sounds singularly artificial. If ever the
throb of personal anguish found tears and a voice, it does so in this
psalm. Whoever wrote it wrote with his blood. There are in it no obvious
references to events in the recorded life of David, and hence the
ascription of it to him must rest on something else than the
interpretation of the psalm. The very absence of such allusions is a
fact to be dealt with by those who deny the accuracy of the attribution
of authorship. But, however that question may be settled, the worth of
this little plaintive cry depends on quite other considerations than the
discovery of the name of the singer or the nature of his sorrow. It is a
transcript of a perennial experience, a guide for a road which all feet
have to travel. Its stream runs turbid and broken at first, but calms
and clears as it flows. It has four curves or windings, which can
scarcely be called strophes without making too artificial a framework
for such a simple and spontaneous gush of feeling. Still the transitions
are clear enough.

In vv. 1-3 we have a cluster of sharp, short cries to God for help,
which all mean the same thing. In each of these the great name of
Jehovah is repeated, and in each the plea urged is simply the sore
need of the suppliant. These are no "vain repetitions," which are
pressed out of a soul by the grip of the rack; and it is not "taking
the name of the Lord in vain" when four times in three short verses
the passionate cry for help is winged with it as the arrow with its
feather. Two thoughts fill the psalmist's consciousness, or rather one
thought--the Lord--and one feeling--his pains. In ver. 1 the Hebrew
makes "in Thine anger" and "in Thine hot wrath" emphatic by setting
these two phrases between the negative and the verb: "Not in Thine
anger rebuke me; not in Thy heat chasten me." He is willing to submit
to both rebuke and chastisement; but he shrinks appalled from that
form of either which tends to destruction, not to betterment. There
are chastisements in tenderness, which express God's love, and there
are others which manifest His alienation and wrath. This psalmist did
not think that all Divine retribution was intended for reformation. To
him there was such a thing as wrath which slew. Jeremiah has the same
distinction (x. 24), and the parallel has been made an argument for
the later date of the psalm. Cheyne and others assume that Jeremiah is
the original, but that is simple conjecture, and the prophet's
conspicuous fondness for quotations from older authors makes the
supposition more probable that the psalm is the earlier. Resignation
and shrinking blend in that cry, in which a heart conscious of evil
confesses as well as implores, recognises the justice and yet
deprecates the utmost severity of the blow. He who asks, "Not in Thine
anger rebuke me," thereby submits to _loving_ chastisement.

Then follow in vv. 2 and 3 three short petitions, which are as much
cries of pain as prayers, and as much prayers as cries of pain. In the
two former the prayer is put first, and its plea second; in the last
the order is reversed, and so the whole is, as it were, enclosed in a
circlet of prayer. Two words make the petition in each clause, "Have
mercy on me, Jehovah" (tastelessly corrected by Graetz into "Revive
me"), and "Heal me, Jehovah." The third petition is daring and
pregnant in its incompleteness. In that emphatic "And Thou, Jehovah,"
the psalmist looks up, with almost reproach in his gaze, to the
infinite Personality which seems so unaccountably passive. The hours
that bring pain are leaden-footed, and their moments each seem an
eternity. The most patient sufferer may cry, "How long?" and God will
not mistake the voice of pain for that of impatience. This threefold
prayer, with its triple invocation, has a triple plea, which is all
substantially one. His misery fills the psalmist's soul, and he
believes that God will feel for him. He does not at first appeal to
God's revealed character, except in so far as the plaintive
reiteration of the Divine name carries such an appeal, but he spreads
out his own wretchedness, and he who does that has faith in God's
pity. "I am withered away," like a faded flower. "My bones are
vexed";--the physical effects of his calamity, "bones" being put for
the whole body, and regarded as the seat of sensibility, as is
frequently the usage. "Vexed" is too weak a rendering. The idea is
that of the utmost consternation. Not only the body, but the soul,
partakes in the dismay. The "soul" is even more shaken than the
"bones"; that is to say, mental agitation rather than physical disease
(and the latter as the result of the former) troubles the psalmist. We
can scarcely fail to remember the added sanctity which these
plaintive words have received, since they were used by the Prince of
sufferers when all but in sight of the cross.

The next turn of thought includes vv. 4, 5, and is remarkable for the
new pleas on which it rests the triple prayer, "Return; deliver;
save." God is His own motive, and His self-revelation in act must
always be self-consistent. Therefore the plea is presented, "for Thy
loving-kindness' sake." It beseeches Him to be what He is, and to show
Himself as still being what He had always been. The second plea is
striking both in its view of the condition of the dead and in its use
of that view as an argument with God. Like many other psalmists, the
writer thinks of Sheol as the common gathering-place of the departed,
a dim region where they live a poor shadowy life, inactive, joyless,
and all but godless, inasmuch as praise, service, and fellowship with
Him have ceased.

That view is equally compatible with the belief in a resurrection and
the denial of it, for it assumes continued individual consciousness.
It is the prevailing tone in the Psalter and in Job and Ecclesiastes.
But in some psalms, which embody the highest rapture of inward and
mystical devotion, the sense of present union with God bears up the
psalmist into the sunlight of the assurance that against such a union
death can have no power, and we see the hope of immortality in the
very act of dawning on the devout soul. May we not say that the
subjective experience of the reality of communion with God now is
still the path by which the certainty of its perpetuity in a future
life is reached? The objective proof in the resurrection of Jesus
Christ is verified by this experience. The psalmists had not the
former, but, having the latter, they attained to at all events
occasional confidence in a blessed life beyond. But the tone of such
triumphant glimpses as xvi. 10, xvii. 15, xlix. 15, lxxiii. 24, is of
a higher mood than that of this and other psalms, which probably
represent the usual view of devout Hebrews.

The fact, as it appeared to those at the then stage of revelation,
that remembrance and praise of God were impossible in Sheol, is urged
as a plea. That implies the psalmist's belief that God cared for men's
praise--a thought which may be so put as to make Him an almighty
Selfishness, but which in its true aspect is the direct inference from
the faith that He is infinite Love. It is the same sweet thought of
Him which Browning has when he makes God say, "I miss my little human
praise." God's joy in men's praise is joy in men's love and in their
recognition of His love.

The third turn of feeling is in vv. 6 and 7. The sense of his own
pains which, in the two previous parts of the psalm, had been
contending with the thought of God, masters the psalmist in these
dreary verses, in which the absence of the name of God is noteworthy
as expressive of his absorption in brooding over his misery. The
vehemence of the manifestations of sorrow and the frankness of the
record of these manifestations in the song are characteristic of the
emotional, demonstrative Eastern temperament, and strike our more
reticent dispositions as excessive. But however expressed in
unfamiliar terms, the emotion which wails in these sad verses is only
too familiar to men of all temperaments. All sad hearts are tempted to
shut out God and to look only at their griefs. There is a strange
pleasure in turning round the knife in the wound and recounting the
tokens of misery. This man feels some ease in telling how he had
exhausted his strength with groaning and worn away the sleepless
night with weeping. Night is ever the nurse of heavy thought, and
stings burn again then. The hyperbolical expressions that he had set
his bed afloat with his tears and "melted" it (as the word means) are
matched by the other hyperboles which follow, describing the effect of
this unmeasured weeping on his eyes. He had wept them away, and they
were bleared and dim like those of an old man. The cause of this
passion of weeping is next expressed, in plain words, which connect
this turn of the thought with the next verses, and seem to explain the
previously mentioned physical pains as either metaphorical or
consequent on the hostility of "mine adversaries."

But even while thus his spirit is bitterly burying itself in his
sorrows the sudden certainty of the answer to his prayer flashes on
him. "Sometimes a light surprises," as Cowper, who too well knew what
it was to be worn with groaning, has sung. That swift conviction
witnesses its origin in a Divine inspiration by its very suddenness.
Nothing has changed in circumstances, but everything has changed in
aspect. Wonder and exultation throb in the threefold assurance that
the prayer is heard. In the two former clauses the "hearing" is
regarded as a present act; in the latter the "receiving" is looked for
in the future. The process, which is usually treated as one simple
act, is here analysed. "God has heard; therefore God will
receive"--_i.e._, answer--"my weeping prayer." Whence came that
confidence but from the breath of God on the troubled spirit? "The
peace of God" is ever the reward of submissive prayer. In this
confidence a man can front the close-knit ring of enemies, of whatever
sort they be, and bid them back. Their triumphant dismissal is a
vivid way of expressing the certainty of their departure, with their
murderous hate unslaked and baulked. "Mine enemies" are "workers of
iniquity." That is a daring assumption, made still more remarkable by
the previous confession that the psalmist's sorrow was God's rebuke
and chastening. But a man has the right to believe that his cause is
God's in the measure in which he makes God's cause his. In the
confidence of prayer heard, the psalmist can see "things that are not
as though they were," and, though no change has passed on the
beleaguering hosts, triumphs in their sure rout and retreat. Very
significantly does he predict in ver. 10 the same fate for them which
he had bewailed as his own. The "dismay" which had afflicted his soul
shall pass to them ("sore vexed"). Since God "returns" (ver. 4), the
enemy will have to "return" in baffled abandonment of their plans, and
be "ashamed" at the failure of their cruel hopes. And all this will
come as suddenly as the glad conviction had started up in the troubled
heart of the singer. His outward life shall be as swiftly rescued as
his inward has been. One gleam of God's presence in his soul had lit
its darkness, and turned tears into sparkling homes of the rainbow;
one flash of that same presence in his outward life shall scatter all
his foes with like swiftness.




                               PSALM VII.

   1  Jehovah, my God, in Thee I take refuge;
      Save me from all my pursuers, and deliver me,
   2  Lest like a lion he tear my soul, breaking it while there is no
            deliverer.
   3  Jehovah, my God, if I have done this,
      If there is iniquity in my hands,
   4  If I have repaid evil to him who was at peace with me--
      Nay, I have delivered him that was my enemy causelessly--
   5  May the enemy chase my soul and overtake it, and trample my life
            to the ground!
      And may he lay my honour in the dust! Selah.

   6  Arise, Jehovah, in Thine anger;
      Lift up Thyself against the ragings of my adversaries,
      And awake for me: judgment Thou hast appointed.
   7  And let a gathering of peoples stand round Thee,
      And above it sit Thou on high.
   8  Jehovah will judge the peoples;
      Do me right, Jehovah, according to my righteousness and according
            to my innocence [that is] upon me.
   9  Let the evil of the wicked come to an end, and establish Thou the
            righteous,
      For a Trier of hearts and reins is God the righteous.
  10  My shield is upon God,
      The Saviour of the upright-hearted.

  11  God is a righteous Judge,
      And a God who is angry every day.
  12  If [a man] turn not, He will sharpen His sword;
      His bow He has bent, and made it ready.
  13  And at him He has aimed deadly weapons;
      His arrows He will kindle into flaming darts.
  14  See! he is in labour with wickedness;
      Yea, he is pregnant with mischief, and gives birth to a lie.
  15  A pit has he sunk, and dug it out;
      And he will fall into the hole he is making.
  16  His mischief shall come back on his own head,
      And upon his own skull shall his violence come down.

  17  I will thank Jehovah according to His righteousness,
      And sing with the harp to the name of Jehovah most high.


This is the only psalm with the title "Shiggaion." The word occurs
only here and in Hab. iii. 1, where it stands in the plural, and with
the preposition "upon," as if it designated instruments. The meaning
is unknown, and commentators, who do not like to say so, have much ado
to find one. The root is a verb, "to wander," and the explanation is
common that the word describes the disconnected character of the
psalm, which is full of swiftly succeeding emotions rather than of
sequent thoughts. But there is no such exceptional discontinuity as to
explain the title. It may refer to the character of the musical
accompaniment rather than to that of the words. The authorities are
all at sea, the LXX. shirking the difficulty by rendering "psalm,"
others giving "error" or "ignorance," with allusion to David's
repentance after cutting off Saul's skirt or to Saul's repentance of
his persecuting David. The later Jewish writers quoted by Neubauer
("Studia Biblic.," ii. 36, _sq._) guess at most various meanings, such
as "love and pleasure," "occupation with music," "affliction,"
"humility," while others, again, explain it as the name of a musical
instrument. Clearly the antiquity of the title is proved by this
unintelligibility. If we turn to the other part of it, we find further
evidence of age and of independence. Who was "Cush, a Benjamite"? He
is not mentioned elsewhere. The author of the title, then, had access
to some sources for David's life other than the Biblical records; and,
as Hupfeld acknowledges, we have here evidence of ancient ascription
of authorship which "has more weight than most of the others." Cush
has been supposed to be Shimei or Saul himself, and to have been so
called because of his swarthy complexion (Cush meaning an African) or
as a jest, because of his personal beauty. Cheyne, following Krochmal,
would correct into "because of [Mordecai] the son of Kish, a
Benjamite," and finds in this entirely conjectural and violent
emendation an "attestation that the psalm was very early regarded as a
work of the Persian age" ("Orig. of Psalt.," p. 229). But there is
really no reason of weight for denying the Davidic authorship, as
Ewald, Hitzig, Hupfeld, and Riehm allow; and there is much in 1 Sam.
xxiv.-xxvi. correspondent with the situation and emotions of the
psalmist here, such as, _e.g._, the protestations of innocence, the
calumnies launched at him, and the call on God to judge. The tone of
the psalm is high and courageous, in remarkable contrast to the
depression of spirit in the former psalm, up out of which the singer
had to pray himself. Here, on the contrary, he fronts the enemy,
lion-like though he be, without a quiver. It is the courage of
innocence and of trust. Psalm vi. wailed like some soft flute; Psalm
vii. peals like the trumpet of judgment, and there is triumph in the
note. The whole may be divided into three parts, of which the close of
the first is marked by the Selah at the end of ver. 5; and the second
includes vv. 6-10. Thus we have the appeal of innocence for help (vv.
1-5), the cry for more than help--namely, definite judgment (vv.
6-10)--and the vision of judgment (vv. 11-17).

The first section has two main thoughts: the cry for help and the
protestation of innocence. It is in accordance with the bold
triumphant tone of the psalm that its first words are a profession of
faith in Jehovah. It is well to look _to_ God before looking _at_
dangers and foes. He who begins with trust can go on to think of the
fiercest antagonism without dismay. Many of the psalms ascribed to
David begin thus, but it is no mere stereotyped formula. Each
represents a new act of faith, in the presence of a new danger. The
word for "put trust" here is very illuminative and graphic, meaning
properly the act of fleeing to a refuge. It is sometimes blended with
the image of a sheltering rock, sometimes with the still tenderer one
of a mother-bird, as when Ruth "came to trust under the wings of
Jehovah," and in many other places. The very essence of the act of
faith is better expressed by that metaphor than by much subtle
exposition. Its blessedness as bringing security and warm shelter and
tenderness more than maternal is wrapped up in the sweet and
instructive figure. The many enemies are, as it were, embodied in one,
on whom the psalmist concentrates his thoughts as the most formidable
and fierce. The metaphor of the lion is common in the psalms
attributed to David, and is, at all events, natural in the mouth of a
shepherd king, who had taken a lion by the beard. He is quite aware of
his peril, if God does not help him, but he is so sure of his safety,
since he trusts, that he can contemplate the enemy's power unmoved,
like a man standing within arm's length of the lion's open jaws, but
with a strong grating between. This is the blessing of true faith, not
the oblivion of dangers, but the calm fronting of them because our
refuge is in God.

Indignant repelling of slander follows the first burst of triumphant
trust (vv. 3-5). Apparently "the words of Cush" were calumnies
poisoning Saul's suspicious nature, such as David refers to in 1 Sam.
xxiv. 9: "Wherefore hearkenest thou to men's words, saying, Behold,
David seeketh thy hurt?" The emphatic and enigmatic _This_ in ver. 3
is unintelligible, unless it refers to some slander freshly coined,
the base malice of which stirs its object into flashing anger and
vehement self-vindication. The special point of the falsehood is plain
from the repudiation. He had been charged with attempting to injure
one who was at peace with him. That is exactly what "men's words"
charged on David, "saying, Behold, David seeketh thy hurt" (1 Samuel,
as above). "If there be iniquity in my hands" is very like "See that
there is neither evil nor transgression in mine hand, and I have not
sinned against thee"; "Thou huntest after my soul to take it" (1
Samuel) is also like our ver. 1: "them that pursue me," and ver. 5:
"let the enemy pursue my soul and overtake it." The specific form of
this protestation of innocence finds no explanation in the now
favourite view of the sufferer in the psalm as being the righteous
nation. The clause which is usually treated as a parenthesis in ver.
4, and translated, as in the R.V., "I have delivered him that without
cause was mine adversary," is needlessly taken by Delitzsch and others
as a continuation of the hypothetical clauses, and rendered, with a
change in the meaning of the verb, "And if I have despoiled him,"
etc.; but it is better taken as above and referred to the incident in
the cave when David spared Saul's life. What meaning would that clause
have with the national reference? The metaphor of a wild beast in
chase of its prey colours the vehement declaration in ver. 5 of
readiness to suffer if guilty. We see the swift pursuit, the victim
overtaken and trampled to death. There may also be an echo of the
Song of Miriam (Exod. xv. 9): "The enemy said, I will pursue; I will
overtake." To "lay my glory in the dust" is equivalent to "bring down
my soul to the dust of death." Man's glory is his "soul." Thus, nobly
throbbing with conscious innocence and fronting unmerited hate, the
rush of words stops, to let the musical accompaniment blare on, for a
while, as if defiant and confident.

The second section of the psalm (vv. 6-10) is a cry for the coming of
the Divine Judge. The previous prayer was content with deliverance,
but this takes a bolder flight, and asks for the manifestation of the
punitive activity of God on the enemies, who, as usually, are
identified with "evil-doers." The grand metaphors in "Arise," "Lift up
Thyself," "Awake," mean substantially the same thing. The long periods
during which evil works and flaunts with impunity are the times when
God sits as if passive and, in a figure still more daring, as if
asleep. When His destructive power flashed into act, and some
long-tolerated iniquity was smitten at a blow, the Hebrew singers saw
therein God springing to His feet or awaking to judgment. Such long
stretches of patient permission of evil and of swift punishment are
repeated through the ages, and individual lives have them in
miniature. The great judgments of nations and the small ones of single
men embody the same principles, just as the tiniest crystal has the
same angles and lines of cleavage as the greatest of its kind. So this
psalmist has penetrated to a true discernment of the relations of the
small and the great, when he links his own vindication by the judicial
act of God with the pomp and splendour of a world-wide judgment, and
bases his prayer for the former on the Divine purpose to effect the
latter. The sequence, "The Lord ministereth judgment to the
peoples"--therefore--"judge me, O Lord," does not imply that the "me"
is the nation, but simply indicates as the ground of the individual
hope of a vindicating judgment the Divine fact, of which history had
given him ample proof and faith gave him still fuller evidence, that
God, though He sometimes seemed to sleep, did indeed judge the
nations. The prerogative of the poet, and still more, the instinct of
the inspired spirit, is to see the law of the greatest exemplified in
the small and to bring every triviality of personal life into contact
with God and His government. The somewhat harsh construction of the
last clause of ver. 6 begins the transition from the prayer for the
smaller to the assurance of the greater judgment which is its basis,
and similarly the first clause of ver. 8 closes the picture of that
wider act, and the next clause returns to the prayer. This picture,
thus embedded in the heart of the supplication, is majestic in its few
broad strokes. First comes the appointment of judgment, then the
assembling of the "peoples," which here may, perhaps, have the
narrower meaning of the "tribes," since "congregation" is the word
used for them in their national assembly, and would scarcely be
employed for the collection of Gentile nations. But whether the
concourse be all Israel or all nations, they are gathered in silent
expectance as in a great judgment-hall. Then enters the Judge. If we
retain the usual reading and rendering of ver. 7 _b_, the act of
judgment is passed over in silence, and the poet beholds God, the
judgment finished, soaring above the awe-struck multitudes, in
triumphant return to the repose of His heavenly throne. But the slight
emendation of the text, needed to yield the meaning "Sit Thou above
it," is worthy of consideration. In either case, the picture closes
with the repeated assurance of the Divine judgment of the peoples, and
(ver. 8) the prayer begins again. The emphatic assertion of innocence
must be taken in connection with the slanders already repudiated. The
matter in hand is the evils charged on the psalmist, for which he was
being chased as if by lions, the judgment craved is the chastisement
of his persecutors, and the innocence professed is simply the
innocence which they calumniated. The words have no bearing at all on
the psalmist's general relation to the Divine law, nor is there any
need to have recourse to the hypothesis that the speaker is the
"righteous nation." It is much more difficult to vindicate a member of
that remnant from the charge of overestimating the extent and quality
of even the righteous nation's obedience, if he meant to allege, as
that interpretation would make him do, that the nation was pure in
life and heart, than it is to vindicate the single psalmist vehemently
protesting his innocence of the charges for which he was hunted.
Cheyne confesses (Commentary _in loc._) that the "psalmist's view may
seem too rose-," which is another way of acknowledging that
the interpretation of the protestation as the voice of the nation is
at variance with the facts of its condition.

The accents require ver. 9 _a_ to be rendered "Let wickedness make an
end of the wicked," but that introduces an irrelevant thought of the
suicidal nature of evil. It may be significant that the psalmist's
prayer is not for the destruction of the wicked, but of their
wickedness. Such annihilation of evil is the great end of God's
judgment, and its consequence will be the establishment of the
righteous. Again the prayer strengthens itself by the thought of God
as righteous and as trying the hearts and reins (the seat of feeling).
In the presence of rampant and all but triumphant evil, a man needs to
feed hopes of its overthrow that would else seem vainest dreams, by
gazing on the righteousness and searching power of God. Very
beautifully does the order of the words in ver. 9 suggest the kindred
of the good man with God by closing each division of the verse with
"righteous." A righteous man has a claim on a righteous God. Most
naturally then the prayer ends with the calm confidence of ver. 10:
"My shield is upon God." He Himself bears the defence of the psalmist.
This confidence he has won by his prayer, and in it he ceases to be a
suppliant and becomes a seer.

The last section (ver. 11 to end) is a vision of the judgment prayed
for, and may be supposed to be addressed to the enemy. If so, the
hunted man towers above them, and becomes a rebuker. The character of
God underlies the fact of judgment, as it had encouraged the prayer
for it. What he had said to himself when his hope drooped, he now, as
a prophet, peals out to men as making retribution sure: "God is a
righteous Judge, yea a God that hath indignation every day." The
absence of an object specified for the indignation makes its
inevitable flow wherever there is evil the more vividly certain. If He
is such, then of course follows the destruction of every one who
"turns not." Retribution is set forth with solemn vigour under four
figures. First, God is as an armed enemy sharpening His sword in
preparation for action, a work of time which in the Hebrew is
represented as in process, and bending His bow, which is the work of a
moment, and in the Hebrew is represented as a completed act. Another
second, and the arrow will whizz. Not only is the bow bent, but (ver.
11) the deadly arrows are aimed, and not only aimed, but continuously
fed with flame. The Hebrew puts "At him" (the wicked) emphatically at
the beginning of the verse, and uses the form of the verb which
implies completed action for the "aiming" and that which implies
incomplete for "making" the arrows burn. So the stern picture is drawn
of God as in the moment before the outburst of His punitive
energy--the sword sharpened, the bow bent, the arrows fitted, the
burning stuff being smeared on their tips. What will happen when all
this preparation blazes into action?

The next figure in ver. 14 insists on the automatic action of evil in
bringing punishment. It is the Old Testament version of "Sin when it
is finished bringeth forth death." The evil-doer is boldly represented
as "travailing with iniquity," and that metaphor is broken up into the
two parts "He hath conceived mischief" and "He hath brought forth
falsehood." The "falsehood," which is the thing actually produced, is
so called, not because it deceives others, but because it mocks its
producer with false hopes and never fulfils his purposes. This is but
the highly metaphorical way of saying that a sinner never does what he
means to do, but that the end of all his plans is disappointment. The
law of the universe condemns him to feed on ashes and to make and
trust in lies.

A third figure brings out more fully the idea implied in "falsehood,"
namely, the failure of evil to accomplish its doer's purpose. Crafty
attempts to trap others have an ugly habit of snaring their contriver.
The irony of fortune tumbles the hunter into the pitfall dug by him for
his prey. The fourth figure (ver. 16) represents the incidence of his
evil on the evil-doer as being certain as the fall of a stone thrown
straight up, which will infallibly come back in the line of its ascent.
Retribution is as sure as gravitation, especially if there is an Unseen
Hand above, which adds impetus and direction to the falling weight. All
these metaphors, dealing with the "natural" consequences of evil, are
adduced as guarantees of _God's_ judgment, whence it is clear both that
the psalmist is thinking not of some final future judgment, but of the
continuous one of daily providence, and that he made no sharp line of
demarcation between the supernatural and the natural. The qualities of
things and the play of natural events are God's working.

So the end of all is thanksgiving. A stern but not selfish nor
unworthy thankfulness follows judgment, with praise which is not
inconsistent with tears of pity, even as the act of judgment which
calls it forth is not inconsistent with Divine love. The vindication
of God's righteousness is worthily hymned by the choral thanksgivings
of all who love righteousness. By judgment Jehovah makes Himself known
as "most high," supreme over all creatures; and hence the music of
thanksgiving celebrates Him under that name. The title "Elyon" here
employed is regarded by Cheyne and others as a sign of late date, but
the use of it seems rather a matter of poetic style than of
chronology. Melchizedek, Balaam, and the king of Babylon (Isa. xiv.
14) use it; it occurs in Daniel, but, with these exceptions, is
confined to poetical passages, and cannot be made out to be a mark of
late date, except by assuming the point in question--namely, the late
date of the poetry, principally nineteen psalms, in which it occurs.




                              PSALM VIII.

  1  Jehovah, our Lord,
     How glorious is Thy name in all the earth!
     Who hast set Thy glory upon the heavens.
  2  Out of the mouth of children and sucklings hast Thou founded a
            strength,
     Because of Thine adversaries,
     To still the enemy and the revengeful.

  3  When I gaze on Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers,
     Moon and stars, which Thou hast established,
  4  What is frail man, that Thou rememberest him,
     And the son of man, that Thou visitest him?
  5  For Thou didst let him fall but little short of God,
     And crownedst him with glory and honour.
  6  Thou madest him ruler over the works of Thy hands;
     Thou hast put all things under his feet,
  7  Sheep and oxen, all of them,
     And likewise beasts of the field,
  8  Fowl of the heavens and fishes of the sea,
      Whatever traverses the paths of the seas.

    9 Jehovah, our Lord, how glorious is Thy name in all the earth!


The exclamation which begins and ends this psalm, enclosing it as a
jewel in a setting, determines its theme as being neither the nightly
heaven, with all its stars, nor the dignity of man, but the name of the
Lord as proclaimed by both. The Biblical contemplation of nature and man
starts from and ends in God. The main thought of the psalm is the
superiority of the revelation in man's nature and place to that in the
vault of heaven. The very smallness of man makes the revelation of God
in His dealings with him great. In his insignificance is lodged a Divine
spark, and, lowly as is his head as he stands beneath the midnight sky
blazing with inaccessible lights, it is crowned with a halo which
reflects God's glory more brightly than does their lustre. That one idea
is the theme of both parts of the psalm. In the former (vv. 1, 2) it is
briefly stated; in the latter (vv. 3-8) it is wrought out in detail. The
movement of thought is by expansion rather than progress.

The name of the Lord is His character as made known. The psalmist
looks beyond Israel, the recipient of a fuller manifestation, and,
with adoring wonder, sees far-flashing through all the earth, as if
written in light, the splendour of that name. The universal revelation
in the depths of the sparkling heavens and the special one by which
Israel can say, "our Lord," are both recognised. The very abruptness
of the exclamation in ver. 1 tells that it is the end of long, silent
contemplation, which overflows at last in speech. The remainder of
ver. 1 and ver. 2 present the two forms of Divine manifestation which
it is the main purpose of the psalm to contrast, and which effect the
world-wide diffusion of the glory of the Name. These are the
apocalypse in the nightly heavens and the witness from the mouth of
babes and sucklings. As to the former, there is some difficulty in the
text as it stands; and there may be a question also as to the
connection with the preceding burst of praise. The word rendered "hast
set" is an imperative, which introduces an incongruous thought, since
the psalm proceeds on the conviction that God has already done what
such a reading would be asking Him to do. The simplest solution is to
suppose a textual corruption, and to make the slight change required
for the rendering of the A.V. and R.V. God's name is glorious in all
the earth, first, because He has set His glory upon the heavens, which
stretch their solemn magnificence above every land. It is His glory of
which theirs is the shimmering reflection, visible to every eye
upturned from "this dim spot which men call earth." May we attach
significance to the difference between "Thy name" and "Thy glory"?
Possibly there is a hint of the relative inferiority even of the
heavenly proclamation, inasmuch as, while it rays out "glory," the
lustre of power and infinitude, it is only on earth that that
revelation becomes the utterance of the Name, since here are hearts
and minds to interpret.

The relative at the beginning of the last clause of ver. 1 seems to
require that the initial exclamation should not be isolated, as it is
in the last verse; but, in any case, the two methods of revelation
must be taken in the closest connection, and brought into line as
parallel media of revelation.

Ver. 2 gives the second of these. The sudden drop from the glories of
the heavens to the babble and prattle of infancy and childhood is most
impressive, and gives extraordinary force to the paradox that the
latter's witness is more powerful to silence gainsayers than that of the
former. This conviction is expressed in a noble metaphor, which is
blurred by the rendering "strength." The word here rather means _a
strength_ in the old use of the term--that is, a stronghold or
fortress--and the image, somewhat more daring than colder Western taste
finds permissible, is that, out of such frail material as children's
speech, God builds a tower of strength, which, like some border castle,
will bridle and still the restless enemy. There seems no sufficient
reason for taking "children and sucklings" in any but its natural
meaning, however the reference to lowly believers may accord with the
spirit of the psalm. The children's voices are taken as a type of feeble
instruments, which are yet strong enough to silence the enemy.
Childhood, "with no language but a cry," is, if rightly regarded in its
source, its budding possibilities, its dependence, its growth, a more
potent witness to a more wondrous name than are all the stars. In like
manner, man is man's clearest revelation of God. The more lowly he is,
the more lofty his testimony. What are all His servants' words but the
babbling of children who "do not know half the deep things they speak"?
God's strongest fortress is built of weakest stones. The rendering of
the LXX., which is that used by our Lord in the Temple when He claimed
the children's shrill hosannas as perfected praise, is an explanation
rather than a translation, and as such is quite in the line of the
psalmist's meaning. To find in the "children and sucklings" a reference
either to the humble believers in Israel or to the nation as a whole,
and in the "enemy and the vengeful man" hostile nations, introduces
thoughts alien to the universality of the psalm, which deals with
humanity as a whole and with the great revelations wide as humanity. If
the two parts of the psalm are to be kept together, the theme of the
compendious first portion must be the same as that of the second,
namely, the glory of God as revealed by nature and man, but most chiefly
by the latter, notwithstanding and even by his comparative feebleness.

The second part (vv. 3-8) expands the theme of the first. The nightly
sky is more overwhelming than the bare blue vault of day. Light
conceals and darkness unveils the solemn glories. The silent depths,
the inaccessible splendours, spoke to this psalmist, as they do to all
sensitive souls, of man's relative insignificance, but they spoke also
of the God whose hand had fashioned them, and the thought of Him
carried with it the assurance of His care for so small a creature, and
therefore changed the aspect of his insignificance. To an ear deaf to
the witness of the heavens to their Maker, the only voice which sounds
from their crushing magnificence is one which counsels unmitigated
despair, insists on man's nothingness, and mocks his aspirations. If
we stop with "What is man?" the answer is, A fleeting nothing. The
magnitude, the duration, the multitudes of these awful suns and stars
dwarf him. Modern astronomy has so far increased the impression that
it has landed many minds in blank unbelief that God has visited so
small a speck as earth, and abundant ridicule has been poured on the
arrogance which dreams that such stupendous events, as the Christian
revelation asserts, have been transacted on earth for man. If we begin
with man, certainly his insignificance makes it supremely absurd to
suppose him thus distinguished; but if we begin at the other end, the
supposition takes a new appearance of probability. If there is a God,
and men are His creatures, it is supremely unlikely that He should not
have a care of them. Nothing can be more absurd than the supposition
of a dumb God, who has never spoken to such a being as man. The
psalmist gives full weight to man's smallness, his frailty, and his
lowly origin, for his exclamation, "What is man?" means, "How little
is he!" and he uses the words which connote frailty and mortality, and
emphasise the fact of birth as if in contrast with "the work of Thy
fingers"; but all these points only enhance the wonderfulness of what
is to the poet an axiom--that God has personal relations with His
creature. "Thou art mindful of him" refers to God's thought, "Thou
visitest him" to His acts of loving care; and both point to God's
universal beneficence, not to His special revelation. The bitter
parody in Job vii. 17, 18, takes the truth by the other handle, and
makes the personal relations those of a rigid inspector on the one
hand and a creature not worth being so strict with on the other.
Mindfulness is only watchfulness for slips, and visiting means penal
visitation. So the same fact may be the source of thankful wonder or
of almost blasphemous murmuring.

Vv. 5-8 draw out the consequences of God's loving regard, which has
made the insignificance of man the medium of a nobler manifestation of
the Divine name than streams from all the stars. There is no allusion
here to sin; and its absence has led to the assertion that this
psalmist knew nothing of a fall, and was not in harmony with the
prevalent Old Testament tone as to the condition of humanity. But
surely the contemplation of the ideal manhood, as it came from God's
hand, does not need to be darkened by the shadows of the actual. The
picture of man as God made him is the only theme which concerns the
psalmist; and he paints it with colours drawn from the Genesis
account, which tells of the fall as well as the creation of man.

The picture contains three elements: man is Deiform, crowned with glory
and honour, and lord of the creatures on earth. The rendering "than the
angels" in the A.V. comes from the LXX., but though defensible, is less
probable than the more lofty conception contained in "than God," which
is vindicated, not only by lexical considerations, but as embodying an
allusion to the original creation "in the image of God." What then is
the "little" which marks man's inferiority? It is mainly that the
spirit, which is God's image, is confined in and limited by flesh, and
subject to death. The distance from the apex of creation to the Creator
must ever be infinite; but man is so far above the non-sentient, though
mighty, stars and the creatures which share earth with him, by reason of
his being made in the Divine image--_i.e._, having consciousness, will,
and reason--that the distance is foreshortened. The gulf between man and
matter is greater than that between man and God. The moral separation
caused by sin is not in the psalmist's mind. Thus man is invested with
some reflection of God's glory, and wears this as a crown. He is king on
earth.

The enumeration of his subjects follows, in language reminding again
of the Genesis narrative. The catalogue begins with those nearest to
him, the long-tamed domestic animals, and of these the most submissive
(sheep) first; it then passes to the untamed animals, whose home is
"the field" or uncultivated land, and from them goes to the heights
and depths, where the free fowls of the air and fish of the sea and
all the mysterious monsters that may roam the hidden ways of that
unknown ocean dwell. The power of taming and disciplining some, the
right to use all, belong to man, but his subjects have their rights
and their king his limits of power and his duties.

Such then is man, as God meant him to be. Such a being is a more
glorious revelation of the Name than all stars and systems. Looked at in
regard to his duration, his years are a handbreadth before these shining
ancients of days that have seen his generations fret their little hour
and sink into silence; looked at in contrast with their magnitude and
numbers numberless, he is but an atom, and his dwelling-place a speck.
Science increases the knowledge of his insignificance, but perhaps not
the impression of it made on a quiet heart by the simple sight of the
heavens. But besides the merely scientific view, and the merely poetic,
and the grimly Agnostic, there is the other, the religious, and it is as
valid to-day as ever. To it the heavens are the work of God's finger,
and their glories are His, set there by Him. That being so, man's
littleness magnifies the name, because it enhances the condescending
love of God, which has greatened the littleness by such nearness of care
and such gifts of dignity. The reflection of His glory which blazes in
the heavens is less bright than that which gleams in the crown of glory
and honour on man's lowly yet lofty head. The "babe and suckling" of
creation has a mouth from which the strength of perfected praise issues
and makes a bulwark against all gainsayers.

The use made of this psalm in the Epistle to the Hebrews proceeds on
the understanding that it describes ideal humanity. Where, then, says
the writer of the epistle, shall we look for the realisation of that
ideal? Do not the grand words sound liker irony than truth? Is this
poor creature that crawls about the world, its slave, discrowned and
sure to die, the Man whom the psalmist saw? No. Then was the fair
vision a baseless fabric, and is there nothing to be looked for but a
dreary continuance of such abortions dragging out their futile being
through hopeless generations? No; the promise shall be fulfilled for
humanity, because it has been fulfilled in one Man: the Man Christ
Jesus. He is the realised ideal, and in Him is a life which will be
communicated to all who trust and obey Him, and they, too, will become
all that God meant man to be. The psalm was not intended as a
prophecy, but every clear vision of God's purpose is a prophecy, for
none of His purposes remain unfulfilled. It was not intended as a
picture of the Christ, but it is so; for He, and He alone, is the Man
who answers to that fair Divine Ideal, and He will make all His people
partakers of His royalty and perfect manhood.

So the psalm ends, as it began, with adoring wonder, and proclaims
this as the result of the twofold witness which it has so nobly set
forth: that God's name shines glorious through all the earth, and
every eye may see its lustre.




                               PSALM IX.

   1  ([Hebrew: alef]) I will thank Jehovah with my whole heart;
      I will recount all Thy wonders.
   2  I will be glad and exult in Thee;
      I will sing Thy name, Most High,

   3  ([Hebrew: bet]) Because mine enemies turn back;
      They stumble and perish at Thy presence.
   4  For Thou hast upheld my right and my suit;
      Thou didst seat Thyself on Thy throne, judging righteously.

   5  ([Hebrew: gimel]) Thou hast rebuked the nations, Thou hast
            destroyed the wicked;
      Thou hast blotted out their name for ever and aye.
   6  The enemy--they are ended, [they are] desolations for ever,
      And [their] cities hast Thou rooted out; perished is their memory.

   7  ([Hebrew: he]) They [are perished], but Jehovah shall sit throned
            for ever;
      He hath prepared His throne for judgment.
   8  And He--He shall judge the world in righteousness;
      He shall deal judgment to the peoples in equity.

   9  ([Hebrew: vav]) And Jehovah shall be a lofty stronghold for the
            crushed,
      A lofty stronghold in times of extremity.
  10  And they who know Thy name will put trust in Thee,
      For Thou hast not forsaken them that seek Thee, Jehovah.

  11  ([Hebrew: zayin]) Sing with the harp to Jehovah, sitting throned
            in Zion;
      Declare among the peoples His doings.
  12  For He that makes inquisition for blood has remembered them;
      He has not forgotten the cry of the humble.

  13  ([Hebrew: het]) Have mercy on me, Jehovah;
      Look on my affliction from my haters,
      Thou who liftest me up from the gates of death
  14  To the end that I may recount all Thy praises.
      In the gates of the daughter of Zion,
      I will rejoice in Thy salvation.

  15  ([Hebrew: tet]) The nations are sunk in the pit they made;
      In the net which they spread their foot is caught.
  16  Jehovah makes Himself known; judgment hath He done,
      Snaring the wicked by the work of his own hands. Higgaion; Selah.

  17  ([Hebrew: yod]) The wicked shall return to Sheol,
      All the nations who forget God
  18  For not for ever shall the needy be forgotten,
      Nor the expectation of the afflicted perish for aye.

  19  ([Hebrew: qof]) Arise, Jehovah: let not man grow strong;
      Let the nations be judged before Thy presence.
  20  Appoint, Jehovah, terrors for them;
      Let the nations come to know that they are men.


Psalms vii. and ix. are connected by the recurrence of the two thoughts
of God as the Judge of nations and the wicked falling into the pit which
he digged. Probably the original arrangement of the Psalter put these
two next each other, and Psalm viii. was inserted later.

Psalm ix. is imperfectly acrostic. It falls into strains of two verses
each, which are marked by sequence of thought as well as by the acrostic
arrangement. The first begins with Aleph, the second with Beth, and so
on, the second verse of each pair not being counted in the scheme. The
fourth letter is missing, and ver. 7, which should begin with it, begins
with the sixth. But a textual correction, which is desirable on other
grounds, makes the fifth letter (He) the initial of ver. 7, and then the
regular sequence is kept up till ver. 19, which should begin with the
soft K, but takes instead the guttural Q. What has become of the rest of
the alphabet? Part of it is found in Psalm x., where the first verse
begins with the L, which should follow the regular K for ver. 19. But
there is no more trace of acrostic structure in x. till ver. 12, which
resumes it with the Q which has already appeared out of place in ix.
19; and it goes on to the end of the alphabet, with only the
irregularity that the R strain (x. 14) has but one verse. Verses with
the missing letters would just about occupy the space of the
non-acrostic verses in Psalm x., and the suggestion is obvious that the
latter are part of some other psalm which has been substituted for the
original; but there are links of connection between the non-acrostic and
acrostic portions of Psalm x., which make that hypothesis difficult. The
resemblances between the two psalms as they stand are close, and the
dissimilarities not less obvious. The psalmist's enemies are different.
In the former they are foreign, in the latter domestic. Psalm ix. rings
with triumph; Psalm x. is in a minor key. The former celebrates a
judgment as accomplished which the latter almost despairingly longs to
see begun. On the whole, the two were most probably never formally one,
but are a closely connected pair.

There is nothing to discredit the Davidic authorship. The singer's
enemies are "nations," and the destruction of these foreign foes is
equivalent to "maintaining his cause." That would be language natural
in the mouth of a king, and there were foreign wars enough in David's
reign to supply appropriate occasions for such a song. The psalm falls
into two parts, vv. 1-12 and 13 to end, of which the second
substantially repeats the main thoughts of the first, but with a
significant difference. In the first part the sequence is praise and
its occasion (Aleph and Beth verses, 1-4), triumphant recounting of
accomplished judgment (Gimel verses, 5, 6), confident expectation of
future wider judgment (amended He and Vav pairs, vv. 7-10), and a
final call to praise (vii. 12). Thus set, as it were, in a circlet of
praise, are experience of past and consequent confidence of future
deliverance. The second part gives the same order, only, instead of
praise, it has prayer for its beginning and end, the two central
portions remaining the same as in part I. The Cheth pair (vv. 13, 14)
is prayer, the deliverance not being perfected, though some foes have
fallen; the past act of accomplished judgment is again celebrated in
the Teth pair (vv. 15, 16), followed, as before, by the triumphant
confidence of future complete crushing of enemies (Yod strain, vv. 17,
18); and all closes with prayer (Qoph pair, vv. 19, 20). Thus the same
thoughts are twice dwelt on; and the different use made of them is the
explanation of the repetition, which strikes a cursory reader as
needless. The diamond is turned a little in the hand, and a
differently tinted beam flashes from its facet.

In the first pair of verses, the song rushes out like some river
breaking through a dam and flashing as it hurries on its course. Each
short clause begins with Aleph; each makes the same fervid resolve.
Wholehearted praise is sincere, and all the singer's being is fused
into it. "All Thy marvellous works" include the great deliverances of
the past, with which a living sense of God's working associates those
of the present, as one in character and source. To-day is as full of
God to this man as the sacred yesterdays of national history, and his
deliverances as wonderful as those of old. But high above the joy in
God's work is the joy in Himself to which it leads, and "Thy name, O
thou Most High," is the ground of all pure delight and the theme of
all worthy praise.

The second stanza (Beth, vv. 3, 4) is best taken as giving the ground of
praise. Render in close connection with preceding "_because_ mine
enemies turn back; they stumble and perish at [or from] Thy presence."
God's face blazes out on the foe, and they turn and flee from the field,
but in their flight they stumble, and, like fugitives, once fallen can
rise no more. The underlying picture is of a battle-field and a
disastrous rout. It is God's coming into action that scatters the enemy,
as ver. 4 tells by its "for." When He took His seat on the throne (of
judgment rather than of royalty), they fled; and that act of assuming
judicial activity was the maintaining of the psalmist's cause.

The third pair of verses (Gimel, 5, 6) dwells on the grand picture of
judgment, and specifies for the first time the enemies as "the
nations" or "heathen," thus showing that the psalmist is not a private
individual, and probably implying that the whole psalm is a hymn of
victory, in which the heat of battle still glows, but which writes no
name on the trophy but that of God. The metaphor of a judgment-seat is
exchanged for a triumphant description of the destructions fallen on
the land of the enemy, in all which God alone is recognised as the
actor. "Thou hast rebuked"; and just as His creative word was
all-powerful, so His destructive word sweeps its objects into
nothingness. There is a grand and solemn sequence in that "Thou hast
rebuked; ... Thou hast destroyed." His breath has made; His breath can
unmake. In ver. 6 the rendering to be preferred is substantially that
of the R.V.: "The enemy are ended, [they are] ruins for ever, and
cities hast Thou rooted out; perished is their memory." To take
"enemy" as a vocative breaks the continuity of the address to God, and
brings in an irrelevant reference to the former conquests of the foe
("Thou hast destroyed cities") which is much more forcible if
regarded as descriptive of God's destruction of his cities. "Their
memory" refers to the enemy, not to the cities. Utter, perpetual ruin,
so complete that the very name is forgotten, has fallen on the foe.

In the fourth pair of verses a slight emendation of the text is
approved of by most critics. The last word of ver. 6 is the pronoun
"they," which, though possible in such a position, is awkward. If it
is transferred to the beginning of ver. 7, and it is further supposed
that "are perished" has dropped out, as might easily be the case, from
the verb having just occurred in the singular, a staking antithesis is
gained: "They perish, but Jehovah shall sit," etc. Further, the pair
of verses then begins with the fifth letter; and the only irregularity
in the acrostic arrangement till ver. 19 is the omission of the fourth
letter: Daleth. A very significant change in tenses takes place at
this point. Hitherto the verbs have been perfects, implying a finished
act; that is to say, hitherto the psalm has been dealing with facts of
recent but completed experience. Now the verbs change to imperfects or
futures, and continue so till ver. 12; that is to say, "experience
doth attain to something of prophetic strain," and passes into
confidence for the future. That confidence is cast in the mould
supplied by the deliverance on which it is founded. The smaller act of
judgment, which maintained the psalmist's cause, expands into a
world-wide judgment in righteousness, for which the preparations are
already made. "He hath prepared His throne for judgment" is the only
perfect in the series. This is the true point of view from which to
regard the less comprehensive acts of judgment thinly sown through
history, when God has arisen to smite some hoary iniquity or some
godless conqueror. Such acts are premonitions of the future, and every
"day of the Lord" is a miniature of that final _dies irae_. The
psalmist probably was rather thinking of other acts of judgment which
would free him and his people from hostile nations, but his hope was
built on the great truth that all such acts are prophecies of others
like them, and it is a legitimate extension of the same principle to
view them all in relation to the last and greatest of the series.

The fifth pair (Vav stanza, vv. 9, 10) turns to the glad contemplation
of the purpose of all the pomp and terror of the judgment thus hoped
for. The Judge is seated on high, and His elevation makes a "lofty
stronghold" for the crushed or downtrodden.

The rare word rendered "extremity" in ver. 9 occurs only here and in
x. 1. It means a cutting off, _i.e._, of hope of deliverance. The
notion of distress intensified to despair is conveyed. God's judgments
show that even in such extremity He is an inexpugnable defence, like
some hill fortress, inaccessible to any foe. A further result of
judgment is the (growing) trust of devout souls (ver. 10). To "know
Thy name" is here equivalent to learning God's character as made known
by His acts, especially by the judgments anticipated. For such
knowledge some measure of devout trust is required, but further
knowledge deepens trust. The best teacher of faith is experience; and,
on the other hand, the condition of such experience is faith. The
action of knowledge and of trust is reciprocal. That trust is
reinforced by the renewed evidence, afforded by the judgments, that
Jehovah does not desert them that seek Him. To "seek Him" is to long
for Him, to look for His help in trouble, to turn with desire and
obedience to Him in daily life; and anything is possible rather than
that He should not disclose and give Himself to such search. Trust and
seeking, fruition and desire, the repose of the soul on God and its
longing after God, are inseparable. They are but varying aspects of
the one thing. When a finite spirit cleaves to the infinite God, there
must be longing as an element in all possession and possession as an
element in all longing; and both will be fed by contemplation of the
self-revealing acts which are the syllables of His name.

Section 6, the last of the first part (Zayin, vv. 11, 12), circles
round to section 1, and calls on all trusters and seekers to be a
chorus to the solo of praise therein. The ground of the praise is the
same past act which has been already set forth as that of the
psalmist's thanksgiving, as is shown by the recurrence here of perfect
tenses (_hath remembered_; _hath not forgotten_). The designation of
God as "dwelling" in Zion is perhaps better rendered, with allusion to
the same word in ver. 7, "sitteth." His seat had been there from the
time that the Ark was brought thither. That earthly throne was the
type of His heavenly seat, and from Zion He is conceived as executing
judgment. The world-wide destination of Israel's knowledge of God
inspires the call to "show forth His doings" to "the peoples." The
"nations" are not merely the objects of destructive wrath, but are to
be summoned to share in the blessing of knowing His mighty acts. The
psalmist may not have been able to harmonise these two points of view
as to Israel's relation to the Gentile world, but both thoughts
vibrate in his song. The designation of God as "making inquisition for
blood" thinks of Him as the Goel, or Avenger. To seek means here to
demand back as one who had entrusted property to another who had
destroyed it would do, thence to demand compensation or satisfaction,
and thus finally comes to mean to avenge or punish (so Hupfeld,
Delitzsch, etc.). "The poor" or "meek" (R.V. and margin) whose cry is
heard are the devout portion of the Jewish people, who are often
spoken of in the Psalms and elsewhere as a class.

The second part of the psalm begins with ver. 13. The prayer in that
verse is the only trace of trouble in the psalm. The rest is triumph and
exultation. This, at first sight discordant, note has sorely exercised
commentators; and the violent solution that the whole Cheth stanza (vv.
13, 14) should be regarded as "the cry of the meek," quoted by the
psalmist, and therefore be put in inverted commas (though adopted by
Delitzsch and Cheyne), is artificial and cold. If the view of the
structure of the psalm given above is adopted, there is little
difficulty in the connection. The victory has been completed over
certain enemies, but there remain others; and the time for praise
unmingled with petition has not yet come for the psalmist, as it never
comes for any of us in this life. Quatre Bras is won, but Waterloo has
to be fought to-morrow. The prayer takes account of the dangers still
threatening, but it only glances at these, and then once more turns to
look with hope on the accomplished deliverance. The thought of how God
had lifted the suppliant up from the very gates of death heartens him to
pray for all further mercy needed. Death is the lord of a gloomy
prison-house, the gates of which open inwards only and permit no egress.
On its very threshold the psalmist had stood. But God had lifted him
thence, and the remembrance wings his prayer. "The gates of the
daughter of Zion" are in sharp, happy contrast with the frowning portals
of death. A city's gates are the place of cheery life, stir, gossip,
business. Anything proclaimed there flies far. There the psalmist
resolves that he will tell his story of rescue, which he believes was
granted that it might be told. God's purpose in blessing men is that
they may open their lips to proclaim the blessings and so bring others
to share in them. God's end is the spread of His name, not for any good
to Him, but because to know it is life to us.

The Teth pair (vv. 15, 16) repeats the thoughts of the Gimel stanza (5,
6), recurring to the same significant perfects and dwelling on the new
thought that the destruction of the enemy was self-caused. As in Psalm
vii., the familiar figure of the pitfall catching the hunter expresses
the truth that all evil, and especially malice, recoils on its
contriver. A companion illustration is added of the fowler's (or
hunter's) foot being caught in his own snare. Ver. 16 presents the other
view of retribution, which was the only one in vv. 5, 6, namely that it
is a Divine act. It is God who executes judgment, and who "snareth the
wicked," though it be "the work of his own hands" which weaves the
snare. Both views are needed for the complete truth. This close of the
retrospect of deliverance which is the main motive of the psalm is
appropriately marked by the musical direction "Higgaion. Selah," which
calls for a strain of instrumental music to fill the pause of the song
and to mark the rapture of triumph in accomplished deliverance.

The Yod stanza (vv. 17, 18), like the He and Vav stanzas (vv. 7-10),
passes to confidence for the future. The correspondence is very close,
but the two verses of this stanza represent the four of the earlier
ones; thus ver. 17 answers to vv. 7 and 8, while ver. 18 is the
representative of vv. 9 and 10. In ver. 17 the "return to Sheol" is
equivalent to destruction. In one view, men who cease to be may be
regarded as going back to original nothingness, as in Psalm xc. 3.
Sheol is not here a place of punishment, but is the dreary dwelling of
the dead, from the gates of which the psalmist had been brought up.
Reduction to nothingness and yet a shadowy, dim life or death-in-life
will certainly be the end of the wicked. The psalmist's experience in
his past deliverance entitles him to generalise thus. To forget God is
the sure way to be forgotten. The reason for the certain destruction
of the nations who forget God and for the psalmist's assurance of it
is (ver. 18) the confidence he has that "the needy shall not always be
forgotten." That confidence corresponds precisely to vv. 9, 10, and
also looks back to the "hath remembered" and "not forgotten" of ver.
12. They who remember God are remembered by Him; and their being
remembered--_i.e._, by deliverance--necessitates the wicked's being
forgotten, and those who are forgotten by God perish. The second
clause of ver. 18 echoes the other solemn word of doom from vv. 3-6.
There the fate of the evil-doers was set forth as "perishing"; their
very memory was to "perish." But the "expectation of the poor shall
not perish." Apparently fragile and to the eye of sense unsubstantial
as a soap-bubble, the devout man's hope is more solid than the most
solid-seeming realities, and will outlast them all.

The final stanza (vv. 19, 20) does not take Kaph as it should do, but
Qoph. Hence some critics suspect that this pair of verses has been
added by another hand, but the continuity of sense is plain, and is
against this supposition. The psalmist was not so bound to his form
but that he could vary it, as here. The prayer of this concluding
stanza circles round to the prayer in ver. 13, as has been noticed,
and so completes the whole psalm symmetrically. The personal element
in ver. 13 has passed away; and the prayer is general, just as the
solo of praise in ver. 1 broadened into the call for a chorus of
voices in ver. 12. The scope of the prayer is the very judgment which
the previous stanza has contemplated as certain. The devout man's
desires are moulded on God's promises, and his prayers echo these.
"Let not mortal man grow strong," or rather "vaunt his strength." The
word for _man_ here connotes weakness. How ridiculous for him, being
such as he is, to swell and swagger as if strong, and how certain his
boasted strength is to shrivel like a leaf in the fire, if God should
come forth, roused to action by his boasting! Ver. 20 closes the
prayer with the cry that some awe-inspiring act of Divine justice may
be flashed before the "nations," in order to force the conviction of
their own weakness home to them. "Set terror for them," the word
_terror_ meaning not the emotion, but the object which produces it,
namely an act of judgment such as the whole psalm has had in view. Its
purpose is not destruction, but conviction, the wholesome
consciousness of weakness, out of which may spring the recognition of
their own folly and of God's strength to bless. So the two parts of
the psalm end with the thought that the "nations" may yet come to know
the name of God, the one calling upon those who have experienced His
deliverance to "declare among the peoples His doings," the other
praying God to teach by chastisement what nations who forget Him have
failed to learn from mercies.




                                PSALM X.

   1  ([Hebrew: lamed]) Why, Jehovah, dost Thou stand far off?
      Why veilest [Thine eyes] in times of extremity?
   2  Through the pride of the wicked the afflicted is burned away;
      They are taken in the plots which these have devised.

   3  For the wicked boasts of his soul's desire,
      And the rapacious man renounces, contemns, Jehovah.
   4  The wicked, by (lit., according to) the uplifting of his nostrils,
            [says,] He will not inquire;
      There is no God, is all his thought.

   5  His ways are stable at all times;
      High above [him] are Thy judgments, remote from before him;
      His adversaries--he snorts at them.

   6  He says in his heart, I shall not be moved;
      To generation after generation, [I am he] who never falls into
            adversity.
   7  Of cursing his mouth is full, and deceits, and oppression;
      Under his tongue are mischief and iniquity.

   8  He couches in the hiding-places of the villages;
      In secret he slays the innocent;
      His eyes watch the helpless.

   9  He lies in wait in secret, like a lion in his lair;
      He lies in wait to seize the afflicted;
      He seizes the afflicted, dragging him in his net.

  10  He crouches, he bows down,
      And there falls into his strong [claws] the helpless.
  11  He says in his heart, God forgets;
      He hides His face, He will not ever see it.

  12  ([Hebrew: qof]) Rise! Jehovah, God! lift up Thy hand!
      Forget not the afflicted.
  13  Wherefore does the wicked blaspheme God,
      [And] say in his heart, Thou wilt not inquire?

  14  ([Hebrew: resh]) Thou hast seen, for Thou, Thou dost behold
            mischief and trouble, to take it into Thy hand;
      To Thee the helpless leaves himself;
      The orphan, Thou, Thou hast been his Helper.

  15  ([Hebrew: shin]) Break the arm of the wicked;
      As for the evil man, inquire for his wickedness [till] Thou find
            none.
  16  Jehovah is King for ever and aye;
      The nations are perished out of the land.

  17  ([Hebrew: tav]) The desire of the meek Thou hast heard, Jehovah;
      Thou wilt prepare their heart, wilt make Thine ear attentive
  18  To do judgment for the orphan and downtrodden;
      Terrible no more shall the man of the earth be.


Psalms ix. and x. are alike in their imperfectly acrostic structure,
the occurrence of certain phrases--_e.g._, the very uncommon
expression for "times of trouble" (ix. 9; x. 1), "Arise, O Lord" (ix.
19; x. 12)--and the references to the nations' judgment. But the
differences are so great that the hypothesis of their original unity
is hard to accept. As already remarked, the enemies are different. The
tone of the one psalm is jubilant thanksgiving for victory won and
judgment effected; that of the other is passionate portraiture of a
rampant foe and cries for a judgment yet unmanifested. They are a
pair, though why the psalmist should have bound together two songs of
which the unlikenesses are at least as great as the likenesses it is
not easy to discover. The circumstances of his day may have brought
the cruelty of domestic robbers close upon the heels of foreign foes,
as is often the case, but that is mere conjecture.

The acrostic structure is continued into Psalm x., as if the last
stanza of ix. had begun with the regular Kaph instead of the cognate
Qoph; but it then disappears till ver. 12, from which point it
continues to the end of the psalm, with the anomaly that one of the
four stanzas has but one verse: the unusually long verse 14. These
four stanzas are allotted to the four last letters of the alphabet.
Six letters are thus omitted, to which twelve verses should belong.
The nine non-acrostic verses (3-11) are by some supposed to be
substituted for the missing twelve, but there are too many verbal
allusions to them in the subsequent part of the psalm to admit of
their being regarded as later than it. Why, then, the break in the
acrostic structure? It is noticeable that the (acrostic) psalm ix. is
wholly addressed to God, and that the parts of x. which are addressed
to Him are likewise acrostic, the section vv. 3-11 being the vivid
description of the "wicked," for deliverance from whom the psalmist
prays. The difference of theme may be the solution of the difference
of form, which was intended to mark off the prayer stanzas and to
suggest, by the very continuity of the alphabetical scheme and the
allowance made for the letters which do not appear, the calm flow of
devotion and persistency of prayer throughout the parenthesis of
oppression. The description of the "wicked" is as a black rock damming
the river, but it flows on beneath and emerges beyond.

The psalm falls into two parts after the introductory verse of
petition and remonstrance: vv. 3-11, the grim picture of the enemy of
the "poor"; and vv. 12-18, the cry for deliverance and judgment.

The first stanza (vv. 1, 2) gives in its passionate cry a general
picture of the situation, which is entirely different from that of
Psalm ix. The two opposite characters, whose relations occupy so much
of these early psalms, "the wicked" and "the poor," are, as usual,
hunter and hunted, and God is passive, as if far away, and hiding His
eyes. The voice of complaining but devout remonstrance is singularly
like the voice of arrogant godlessness (vv. 4-11), but the fact which
brings false security to the one moves the other to prayer. The
boldness and the submissiveness of devotion are both throbbing in that
"Why?" and beneath it lies the entreaty to break this apparent apathy.
Ver. 2 spreads the facts of the situation before God. "Through the
pride of the wicked the afflicted is burned," _i.e._, with anguish,
_pride_ being the fierce fire and _burning_ being a vigorous
expression for anguish, or possibly for destruction. The ambiguous
next clause may either have "the wicked" or "the poor" for its
subject. If the former (R. V.), it is a prayer that the retribution
which has been already spoken of in Psalm ix. may fall, but the
context rather suggests the other construction, carrying on the
description of the sufferings of the poor, with an easy change to the
plural, since the singular is a collective. This, then, being how
things stand, the natural flow of thought would be the continuance of
the prayer; but the reference to the enemy sets the psalmist on fire,
and he "burns" in another fashion, flaming out into a passionate
portraiture of the wicked, which is marked as an interruption to the
current of his song by the cessation of the acrostic arrangement.

The picture is drawn with extraordinary energy, and describes first
the character (vv. 3-6) and then the conduct of the wicked. The style
reflects the vehemence of the psalmist's abhorrence, being full of
gnarled phrases and harsh constructions. As with a merciless scalpel
the inner heart of the man is laid open. Observe the recurrence of
"saith," "thoughts," and "saith in his heart." But first comes a
feature of character which is open and palpable. He "boasts of his
soul's desire." What is especially flagrant in that? The usual
explanation is that he is not ashamed of his shameful lusts, but
glories in them, or that he boasts of succeeding in all that he
desires. But what will a good man do with his heart's desires? Ver. 7
tells us, namely breathe them to God; and therefore to boast of them
instead is the outward expression of godless self-confidence and
resolve to consult inclination and not God. The word rendered _boast_
has the two significations of _pray_ and _boast_, and the use of it
here, in the worse one, is parallel with the use of _bless_ or
_renounce_ in the next clause. The wicked is also "rapacious," for
"covetous" is too weak. He grasps all that he can reach by fair or
foul means. Such a man in effect and by his very selfish greed
"renounces, contemns God." He may be a worshipper; but his "blessing"
is like a parting salutation, dismissing Him to whom it is addressed.
There is no need to suppose that conscious apostacy is meant. Rather
the psalmist is laying bare the under-meaning of the earth-bound man's
life, and in effect anticipates Christ's "Ye cannot serve God and
mammon" and Paul's "covetousness which is idolatry."

The next trait of character is practical atheism and denial of Divine
retribution. The Hebrew is rough and elliptical, but the A.V. misses
its point, which the R.V. gives by the introduction of "saith." "The
pride of his countenance" is literally "the elevation of his nose."
Translate those upturned nostrils into words, and they mean that God
will not require (seek, in the sense of punish). But a God who does
not punish is a dim shape, through which the empty sky is seen, and
the denial (or forgetfulness) of God's retributive judgment is
equivalent to denying that there is a God at all.

Thus armed, the wicked is in fancied security. "His ways are
firm"--_i.e._, he prospers--and, in the very madness of arrogance, he
scoffs at God's judgments as too high up to be seen. His scoff is a
truth, for how can eyes glued to earth see the solemn lights that move
in the heavens? Purblind men say, We do not see them, and mean, They are
not; but all that their speech proves is their own blindness. Defiant of
God, he is truculent to men, and "snorts contempt at his enemies." "In
his heart he says, I shall not be moved." The same words express the
sane confidence of the devout soul and the foolish presumption of the
man of the earth; but the one says, "because He is at my right hand,"
and the other trusts in himself. "To all generations I shall not be in
adversity" (R.V.). The Hebrew is gnarled and obscure; and attempts to
amend the text have been made (compare Cheyne, Graetz _in loc._), but
needlessly. The confidence has become almost insane, and has lost sight
altogether of the brevity of life. "His inward thought is that he shall
continue for ever" (Psalm xlix.). "Pride stifles reason. The language of
the heart cannot be translated into spoken words without seeming
exaggeration" (Cheyne). He who can be so blind to facts as to find no
God may well carry his blindness a step further and wink hard enough to
see no death, or may live as if he did not.

Following the disclosure of the inner springs of life in the secret
thoughts comes, in vv. 7-10, the outcome of these in word and deed. When
the wicked "lets the rank tongue blossom into speech," the product is
affronts to God and maledictions, lies, mischiefs, for men. These stuff
the mouth full, and lie under the tongue as sweet morsels for the
perverted taste or as stored there, ready to be shot out. The deeds
match the words. The vivid picture of a prowling lion seems to begin in
ver. 8, though it is sometimes taken as the unmetaphorical description
of the wicked man's crime. The stealthy couching of the beast of prey,
hiding among the cover round the unwalled village or poorly sheltered
fold, the eyes gleaming out of the darkness and steadfastly fixed on the
victim with a baleful light in them, belong to the figure, which is
abruptly changed in one clause (ver. 9 _c_) into that of a hunter with
his net, and then is resumed and completed in ver. 10, where the R.V.
is, on the whole, to be preferred--"He croucheth; he boweth down"--as
resuming the figure at the point where it had been interrupted and
finishing it in the next clause, with the helpless victim fallen into
the grip of the strong claws. With great emphasis the picture is rounded
off (ver. 11) with the repetition of the secret thought of God's
forgetfulness, which underlies the cruel oppression.

This whole section indicates a lawless condition in which open violence,
robbery, and murder were common. In Hosea's vigorous language, "blood
touched blood," the splashes being so numerous that they met, and the
land was red with them. There is no reason to suppose that the picture
is ideal or exaggerated. Where in the turbulent annals of Israel it is
to be placed must remain uncertain; but that it is a transcript of
bitter experience is obvious, and the aspect which it presents should be
kept in view as a corrective of the tendency to idealise the moral
condition of Israel, which at no time was free from dark stains, and
which offered only too many epochs of disorganisation in which the dark
picture of the psalm could have been photographed from life.

The phrases for the victims in this section are noteworthy: "the
innocent"; "the helpless"; "the poor." Of these the first and last are
frequent, and the meaning obvious. There is a doubt whether the last
should be regarded as the designation of outward condition or of
disposition, _i.e._ whether "meek" or "poor" is the idea. There are two
cognate words in Hebrew, one of which means one who is bowed down,
_i.e._ by outward troubles, and the other one who bows himself down,
_i.e._ is meek. The margin of the Hebrew Bible is fond of correcting
these words when they occur in the text and substituting the one for the
other, but arbitrarily; and it is doubtful whether in actual usage there
is any real distinction between them. "Helpless" is a word only found in
this psalm (vv. 8, 10, 14), which has received various explanations, but
is probably derived from a root meaning _to be black_, and hence comes
to mean _miserable_, _hapless_, or the like. All the designations refer
to a class--namely, the devout minority, the true Israel within
Israel--and hence the plurals in vv. 10, 12, and 17.

The second part of the psalm (ver. 12 to end) is the prayer, forced
from the heart of the persecuted remnant, God's little flock in the
midst of wolves. No trace of individual reference appears in it, nor
any breath of passion or vengeance, such as is found in some of the
psalms of persecution; but it glows with indignation at the
blasphemies which are, for the moment, triumphant, and cries aloud to
God for a judicial act which shall shatter the dream that He does not
see and will not requite. That impious boast, far more than the
personal incidence of sufferings, moves the prayer. As regards its
form, the reappearance of the acrostic arrangement is significant, as
is the repetition of the prayer and letter of ix. 19, which binds the
two psalms together. The acrostic reappears with the direct address to
God. The seven verses of the prayer are divided by it into four
groups, one of which is abnormal as containing but one verse, the
unusual length of which, however, somewhat compensates for the
irregularity (ver. 14). The progress of thought in them follows the
logic of emotional prayer rather than of the understanding. First,
there are a vehement cry for God's intervention and a complaint of His
mysterious apparent apathy. The familiar figure for the Divine
flashing forth of judgment, "Arise, O Lord," is intensified by the
other cry that He would "lift His hand." A God who has risen from His
restful throne and raised His arm is ready to bring it down with a
shattering blow; but before it falls the psalmist spreads in God's
sight the lies of the scornful men. They had said (ver. 11) that He
forgot; the prayer pleads that He would not forget. Their confidence
was that He did not see nor would requite; the psalmist is bold to ask
the reason for the apparent facts which permit such a thought. The
deepest reverence will question God in a fashion which would be
daring, if it were not instinct with the assurance of the clearness of
His Divine knowledge of evil and of the worthiness of the reasons for
its impunity. "Wherefore doest Thou thus?" may be insolence or faith.
Next, the prayer centres itself on the facts of faith, which sense
does not grasp (ver. 14). The specific acts of oppression which force
out the psalmist's cry are certainly "seen" by God, for it is His very
nature to look on all such ("Thou" in ver. 14 is emphatic); and faith
argues from the character to the acts of God and from the general
relation of all sin towards Him to that which at present afflicts the
meek. But is God's gaze on the evil an idle look? No; He sees, and the
sight moves Him to act. Such is the force of "to take it into Thy
hand," which expresses the purpose and issue of the beholding. What He
sees He "takes in hand," as we say, with a similar colloquialism. If a
man believes these things about God, it will follow of course that he
will leave himself in God's hand, that uplifted hand which prayer has
moved. So ver. 14 is like a great picture in two compartments, as
Raphael's Transfiguration. Above is God, risen with lifted arm,
beholding and ready to strike; beneath is the helpless man, appealing
to God by the very act of "leaving" himself to Him. That absolute
reliance has an all-prevalent voice which reaches the Divine heart, as
surely as her child's wail the mother's; and wherever it is exercised
the truth of faith which the past has established becomes a truth of
experience freshly confirmed. The form of the sentence in the Hebrew
(the substantive verb with a participle, "Thou hast been helping")
gives prominence to the continuousness of the action: It has always
been Thy way, and it is so still. Of course "fatherless" here is
tantamount to the "hapless," or poor, of the rest of the psalm.

Then at last comes the cry for the descent of God's uplifted hand (vv.
15, 16). It is not invoked to destroy, but simply to "break the arm"
of, the wicked, _i.e._ to make him powerless for mischief, as a
swordsman with a shattered arm is. One blow from God's hand lames, and
the arm hangs useless. The impious denial of the Divine retribution
still affects the psalmist with horror; and he returns to it in the
second clause of ver. 15, in which he prays that God would "seek
out"--_i.e._, require and requite, so as to abolish and make utterly
non-existent--the wicked man's wickedness. The yearning of every heart
that beats in sympathy with and devotion to God, especially when it is
tortured by evil experienced or beheld flourishing unsmitten, is for
its annihilation. There is no prayer here for the destruction of the
doer; but the reduction to nothingness of his evil is the worthy
aspiration of all the good, and they who have no sympathy with such a
cry as this have either small experience of evil, or a feeble
realisation of its character.

The psalmist was heartened to pray his prayer, because "the nations
are perished out of His land." Does that point back to the great
instance of exterminating justice in the destruction of the
Canaanites? It may do so, but it is rather to be taken as referring to
the victories celebrated in the companion psalm. Note the recurrence
of the words "nations" and "perished," which are drawn from it. The
connection between the two psalms is thus witnessed, and the
deliverance from foreign enemies, which is the theme of Psalm ix., is
urged as a plea with God and taken as a ground of confidence by the
psalmist himself for the completion of the deliverance by making
domestic oppressors powerless. This lofty height of faith is preserved
in the closing stanza, in which the agitation of the first part and
the yearning of the second are calmed into serene assurance that the
_Ecclesia pressa_ has not cried nor ever can cry in vain. Into the
praying, trusting heart "the peace of God, which passeth
understanding," steals, and the answer is certified to faith long
before it is manifest to sense. To pray and immediately to feel the
thrilling consciousness, "Thou hast heard," is given to those who pray
in faith. The wicked makes a boast of his "desire"; the humble makes
a prayer of it, and so has it fulfilled. Desires which can be
translated into petitions will be converted into fruition. If the
heart is humble, that Divine breath will be breathed over and into it
which will prepare it to desire only what accords with God's will, and
the prepared heart will always find God's ear open. The cry of the
_hapless_, which has been put into their lips by God himself, is the
appointed prerequisite of the manifestations of Divine judgment which
will relieve the earth of the incubus of "the man of the earth."
"Shall not God avenge His own elect, though He bear long with them? I
tell you that He will avenge them speedily." The prayer of the humble,
like a whisper amid the avalanches, has power to start the swift,
white destruction on its downward path; and when once that gliding
mass has way on it, nothing which it smites can stand.




                               PSALM XI.

  1  In Jehovah have I taken refuge;
     How say ye to my soul,
     Flee to the mountain as a bird?
  2  For lo, the wicked bend the bow,
     They make ready their arrow upon the string,
     To shoot in the dark at those who are upright of heart.
  3  For the foundations are being destroyed;
     The righteous--what hath he achieved?

  4  Jehovah in His holy palace, Jehovah, whose throne is in heaven--
     His eyes behold, His eyelids try, the children of men.
  5  Jehovah trieth the righteous,
     But the wicked and lover of violence His soul hateth.
  6  May He rain upon the wicked snares;
     Fire and brimstone and a burning wind be the portion of their cup!
  7  For Jehovah is righteous: righteous deeds He loveth;
     The upright shall behold His face.


The correctness of the superscription is, in the present case,
defended by Ewald and Hitzig. Delitzsch refers the psalm to the eve of
Absalom's conspiracy, while other supporters of the Davidic authorship
prefer the Sauline persecution. The situation as described in the
psalm corresponds sufficiently well to either of these periods, in
both of which David was surrounded by stealthy hostility and
counselled by prudence to flight. But there are no definite marks of
date in the psalm itself; and all that is certain is its many
affinities with the other psalms of the group which Cheyne calls the
"persecution psalms," including iii.-vii., ix.-xiv., xvii. These
resemblances make a common authorship probable.

The structure of the psalm is simple and striking. There are two
vividly contrasted halves; the first gives the suggestions of timid
counsellors who see only along the low levels of earth, the second the
brave answer of faith which looks up into heaven.

In the first part (vv. 1-3) the psalmist begins with an utterance of
faith, which makes him recoil with wonder and aversion from the
cowardly, well-meant counsels of his friends. "In Jehovah have I taken
refuge"--a profession of faith which in Psalm vii. 1 was laid as the
basis of prayer for deliverance and is here the ground for steadfastly
remaining where he stands. The metaphor of flight to a stronghold,
which is in the word for trust, obviously colours the context, for
what can be more absurd than that he who has sought and found shelter
in God Himself should listen to the whisperings of his own heart or to
the advice of friends and hurry to some other hiding-place? "He that
believeth shall not make haste," and, even when the floods come, shall
not need to seek in wild hurry for an asylum above the rising waters.
Safe in God, the psalmist wonders why such counsel should be given,
and his question expresses its irrationality and his rejection of it.
But these timid voices spoke to his "soul," and the speakers are
undefined. Is he apostrophising his own lower nature? Have we here a
good man's dialogue with himself? Were there two voices in him: the
voice of sense, which spoke to the soul, and that of the soul, which
spoke authoritatively to sense? Calvin finds here the mention of
_spirituales luctas_; and whether there were actual counsellors of
flight or no, no doubt prudence and fear said to and in his soul,
"Flee." If we might venture to suppose that the double thought of the
oneness of the psalmist's personality and the manifoldness of his
faculties was in his mind, we should have an explanation of the
strange fluctuation between singulars and plurals in ver. 1 _b_.
"Flee" is plural, but is addressed to a singular subject: "my soul";
"your" is also plural, and "bird" singular. The Hebrew marginal
correction smooths away the first anomaly by reading the singular
imperative, but that leaves the anomaly in "your." The LXX. and other
old versions had apparently a slightly different text, which got rid
of that anomaly by reading (with the addition of one letter and a
change in the division of words), "Flee to the mountain as a bird";
and that is probably the best solution of the difficulty. One can
scarcely fail to recall the comparison of David to a partridge hunted
on the mountains. Cheyne finds in the plurals a proof that "it is the
Church within the Jewish nation of which the poet thinks." The timid
counsel is enforced by two considerations: the danger of remaining a
mark for the stealthy foe and the nobler thought of the hopelessness
of resistance, and therefore the quixotism of sacrificing one's self
in a prolongation of it.

The same figure employed in Psalm vii. 12 of God's judgments on the
wicked is here used of the wicked's artillery against the righteous.
The peril is imminent, for the bows are bent, and the arrows already
fitted to the string. In midnight darkness the assault will be made
(compare lxiv. 3, 4). The appeal to the instinct of self-preservation
is reinforced by the consideration (ver. 3) of the impotence of
efforts to check the general anarchy. The particle at the beginning of
the verse is best taken as in the same sense as at the beginning of
ver. 2, thus introducing a second co-ordinate reason for the counsel.
The translation of it as hypothetical or temporal (if or when) rather
weakens the urgency of ver. 3 as a motive for flight. The probably
exaggerated fears of the advisers, who are still speaking, are
expressed in two short, breathless sentences: "The foundations [of
society] are being torn down; the righteous--what has he achieved?" or
possibly, "What can he do?" In either case, the implication is, Why
wage a hopeless conflict any longer at the peril of life? All is lost;
the wise thing to do is to run. It is obvious that this description of
the dissolution of the foundations of the social order is either the
exaggeration of fear, or poetic generalisation from an individual case
(David's), or refers the psalm to some time of anarchy, when things
were much worse than even in the time of Saul or Absalom.

All these suggestions may well represent the voice of our own fears, the
whispers of sense and sloth, which ever dwell on and exaggerate the
perils in the road of duty, and bid us abandon resistance to prevailing
evils as useless and betake ourselves to the repose and security of some
tempting nest far away from strife. But such counsels are always base,
and though they be the result of "prudence," are short-sighted, and
leave out precisely the determining factor in the calculation. The enemy
may have fitted his arrows to the string, but there is another bow bent
which will be drawn before his (Psalm vii. 12). The foundations are not
being destroyed, however many and strong the arms that are trying to dig
them up. The righteous has done much, and can do more, though his work
seem wasted. Self-preservation is not a man's first duty; flight is his
last. Better and wiser and infinitely nobler to stand a mark for the
"slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" and to stop at our post,
though we fall there, better infinitely to toil on, even when toil seems
vain, than cowardly to keep a whole skin at the cost of a wounded
conscience or despairingly to fling up work, because the ground is hard
and the growth of the seed imperceptible. Prudent advices, when the
prudence is only inspired by sense, are generally foolish; and the only
reasonable attitude is obstinate hopefulness and brave adherence to
duty.

So the psalm turns, in its second part, from these creeping counsels,
which see but half the field of vision, and that the lower, to soar
and gaze on the upper half. "God is in heaven; all's right with the
world," and with the good men who are trying to help to make it right.
The poet opposes to the picture drawn by fear the vision of the opened
heaven and the throned Jehovah. In ver. 4 the former part is not to be
taken as a separate affirmation: "The Lord is," etc., but "Jehovah" is
a nominative absolute, and the weight of the sentence falls on the
last clause. The "holy palace" in which Jehovah is beheld enthroned is
not on earth, as the parallelism of the clauses shows. To the eyes
that have seen that vision and before which it ever burns, all earthly
sorrows and dangers seem small. There is the true asylum of the hunted
soul; that is the mountain to which it is wise to flee. If the
faint-hearted had seen that sight, their timid counsels would have
caught a new tone. They are preposterous to him who does see it. For
not only does he behold Jehovah enthroned, but he sees Him
scrutinising all men's acts. We bring the eyelids close when minutely
examining any small thing. So God is by a bold figure represented as
doing, and the word for "beholds" has _to divide_ as its root idea,
and hence implies a keen discriminating gaze. As fire tries metal, so
He tries men. And the result of the trial is twofold, as is described
in the two clauses of ver. 5, which each require to be completed from
the other: "The Lord trieth the righteous (and finding him approved,
loveth), but the wicked" (He trieth, and finding him base metal), His
soul "hateth." In the former clause the process of trial is mentioned,
and its result omitted; in the latter the process is omitted, and the
result described. The strong anthropomorphism which attributes a
"soul" to God and "hatred" to His soul is not to be slurred over as
due to the imperfection of Hebrew ideas of the Divine nature. There is
necessarily in the Divine nature an aversion to evil and to the man
who has so completely given himself over to it as to "love" it. Such
perverted love can only have turned to it that side of the Divine
character which in gravity of disapprobation and recoil from evil
answers to what we call hate, but neither desires to harm nor is
perturbed by passion. The New Testament is as emphatic as the Old in
asserting the reality of "the wrath of God." But there are limitation
and imperfection in this psalm in that it does not transcend the point
of view which regards man's conduct as determining God's attitude.
Retribution, not forgiveness nor the possibility of changing the moral
bias of character, is its conception of the relations of man and God.

The Divine estimate, which in ver. 5 is the result of God's trial of
the two classes, is carried forward in vv. 6 and 7 to its twofold
issues. But the form of ver. 6 is that of a wish, not of a prediction;
and here again we encounter the tone which, after all allowances, must
be regarded as the result of the lower stage of revelation on which
the psalmist stood, even though personal revenge need not be ascribed
to him. In the terrible picture of the judgment poured down from the
open heavens into which the singer has been gazing, there is a
reproduction of the destruction of the cities of the plain, the fate
of which stands in the Old Testament as the specimen and prophecy of
all subsequent acts of judgment. But the rain from heaven is conceived
as consisting of "snares," which is a strangely incongruous idea. Such
mingled metaphors are less distasteful to Hebrew poets than to Western
critics; and the various expedients to smooth this one away, such as
altering the text and neglecting the accents and reading "coals of
fire," are unnecessary sacrifices to correctness of style. Delitzsch
thinks that the "snares" are "a whole discharge of lassoes," _i.e._
lightnings, the zigzag course of which may be compared to a "noose
thrown down from above"! The purpose of the snares is to hold fast the
victims so that they cannot escape the fiery rain--a terrible picture,
the very incongruity of figure heightening the grim effect. The
division of the verse according to the accents parts the snares from
the actual components of the fatal shower, and makes the second half
of the verse an independent clause, which is probably to be taken,
like the former clause, as a wish: "Fire and brimstone and a burning
wind [Zornhauch, Hupfeld] be the portion of their cup," again an
incongruity making the representation more dreadful. What a
draught--flaming brimstone and a hot blast as of the simoom! The
tremendous metaphor suggests awful reality.

But the double judgment of ver. 5 has a gentler side, and the reason for
the tempest of wrath is likewise that for the blessed hope of the
upright, as the "for" of ver. 7 teaches. "Jehovah is righteous." That
is the rock foundation for the indomitable faith of the Psalter in the
certain ultimate triumph of patient, afflicted righteousness. Because
God in His own character is so, He must love righteous acts--His own and
men's. The latter seems to be the meaning here, where the fate of men is
the subject in hand. The Divine "love" is here contrasted with both the
wicked man's "love" of "violence" and God's "hate" (ver. 5), and is the
foundation of the final confidence, "The upright shall behold His face."
The converse rendering, "His countenance doth behold the upright"
(A.V.), is grammatically permissible, but would be flat,
tautological--since ver. 4 has already said so--and inappropriate to the
close, where a statement as to the upright, antithetical to that as to
the wicked, is needed. God looks on the upright, as has been said; and
the upright shall gaze on Him, here and now in the communion of that
faith which is a better kind of sight and hereafter in the vision of
heaven, which the psalmist was on the verge of anticipating. That mutual
gaze is blessedness. They who, looking up, behold Jehovah are brave to
front all foes and to keep calm hearts in the midst of alarms. Hope
burns like a pillar of fire in them when it is gone out in others; and
to all the suggestions of their own timidity or of others they have the
answer, "In the Lord have I put my trust; how say ye to my soul, Flee?"
"Here I stand; I can do no otherwise. God help me. Amen."




                               PSALM XII.

  1  Save, Jehovah, for the godly ceases,
     For the trusty have vanished from the sons of men.
  2  They speak vanity every man with his neighbour;
     [With] smooth lip and a heart and a heart do they speak.

  3  May Jehovah cut off all smooth lips,
     The tongue that speaks proud things,
  4  That says, To our tongues we give strength: our lips are our own
            (lit. with us);
     Who is lord to us?

  5  For the oppression of the afflicted, for the sighing of the needy,
     Now I will arise, saith Jehovah; I will set him in the safety he
            pants for.
  6  The words of Jehovah are pure words,
     Silver tried in a furnace [and flowing down] to the ground,
            purified seven times.

  7  Thou, Jehovah, shalt guard them;
     Thou shalt preserve him from this generation for ever.
  8  All around the wicked swagger,
     When vileness is set on high among the sons of men.


One penalty of living near God is keen pain from low lives. The ears
that hear God's word cannot but be stunned and hurt by the babble of
empty speech. This psalm is profoundly melancholy, but without trace
of personal affliction. The psalmist is not sad for himself, but sick
of the clatter of godless tongues, in which he discerns the outcome of
godless lives. His plaint wakes echoes in hearts touched by the love
of God and the visions of man's true life. It passes through four
clearly marked stages, each consisting of two verses: despondent
contemplation of the flood of corrupt talk which seems to submerge all
(1, 2); a passionate prayer for Divine intervention, wrung from the
psalmist by the miserable spectacle (3, 4); the answer to that cry
from the voice of God, with the rapturous response of the psalmist to
it (5, 6); and the confidence built on the Divine word, which
rectifies the too despondent complaint at the beginning, but is still
shaded by the facts which stare him in the face (7, 8).

The cry for help (_Save_, LXX.) abruptly beginning the psalm tells of
the sharp pain from which it comes. The psalmist has been brooding
over the black outlook till his overcharged heart relieves itself in
this single-worded prayer. As he looks round he sees no exceptions to
the prevailing evil. Like Elijah, he thinks that he is left alone, and
love to God and men and reliableness and truth are vanished with their
representatives. No doubt in all such despondent thoughts about the
rarity of Christian charity and of transparent truthfulness there is
an element of exaggeration, which in the present case is, as we shall
see, corrected by the process of God-taught meditation. But the
clearer the insight into what society should be, the sadder the
estimate of what it is. Roseate pictures of it augur ill for the ideal
which their painters have. It is better to be too sensitive to evils
than to be contented with them. Unless the passionate conviction of
the psalmist has burned itself into us, we shall but languidly work to
set things right. Heroes and reformers have all begun with
"exaggerated estimates" of corruption. The judgment formed of the
moral state of this or of any generation depends on the clearness
with which we grasp as a standard the ideal realised in Jesus Christ
and on the closeness of our communion with God.

As in Psalm v., sins of speech are singled out, and of these "vanity"
and "smooth lips with a heart and a heart" are taken as typical. As in
Eph. iv. 25, the guilt of falsehood is deduced from the bond of
neighbourliness, which it rends. The sin, to which a "high
civilisation" is especially prone, of saying pleasant things without
meaning them, seems to this moralist as grave as to most men it seems
slight. Is the psalmist right or wrong in taking speech for an even
more clear index of corruption than deeds? What would he have said if
he had been among us, when the press has augmented the power of the
tongue, and floods of "vanity," not only in the form of actual lies,
but of inane trivialities and nothings of personal gossip, are poured
over the whole nation? Surely, if his canon is right, there is
something rotten in the state of this land; and the Babel around may
well make good men sad and wise men despondent.

Shall we venture to follow the psalmist in the second turn of his
thoughts (vv. 3, 4), where the verb at the beginning is best taken as
an optative and rendered, "May Jehovah cut off"? The deepest meaning
of his desire every true man will take for his own, namely the
cessation of the sin; but the more we live in the spirit of Jesus, the
more we shall cherish the hope that that may be accomplished by
winning the sinner. Better to have the tongue touched with a live coal
from the altar than cut out. In the one case there is only a mute, in
the other an instrument for God's praise. But the impatience of evil
and the certainty that God can subdue it, which make the very nerve
of the prayer, should belong to Christians yet more than to the
psalmist. A new phase of sinful speech appears as provoking judgment
even more than the former did. The combination of flattery and
boastfulness is not rare, discordant as they seem; but the special
description of the "proud things" spoken is that they are denials of
responsibility to God or man for the use of lips and tongue. Insolence
has gone far when it has formulated itself into definite statements.
Twenty men will act on the principle for one who will put it into
words. The conscious adoption and cynical avowal of it are a mark of
defiance of God. "To our tongues we give strength"--an obscure
expression which may be taken in various shades of meaning, _e.g._ as
= We have power over, or = Through, or as to, our tongues we are
strong, or = We will give effect to our words. Possibly it stands as
the foundation of the daring defiance in the last clause of the verse,
and asserts that the speaker is the author of his power of speech and
therefore responsible to none for its use. "Our lips are with us" may
be a further development of the same godless thought. "With us" is
usually taken to mean "our allies," or confederates, but signifies
rather "in our possession, to do as we will with them." "Who is lord
over us?" There speaks godless insolence shaking off dependence, and
asserting shamelessly licence of speech and life, unhindered by
obligations to God and His law.

With dramatic swiftness the scene changes in the next pair of verses
(5, 6). That deep voice, which silences all the loud bluster, as the
lion's roar hushes the midnight cries of lesser creatures, speaks in
the waiting soul of the psalmist. Like Hezekiah with Sennacherib's
letter, he spreads before the Lord the "words with which they reproach
Thee," and, like Hezekiah, he has immediate answer. The inward
assurance that God will arise is won by prayer at once, and changes
the whole aspect of the facts which as yet remain unchanged. The
situation does not seem so desperate when we know that God is moving.
Whatever delay may intervene before the actual Divine act, there is
none before the assurance of it calms the soul. Many wintry days may
have to be faced, but a breath of spring has been in the air, and hope
revives. The twofold reason which rouses the Divine activity is very
strikingly put first in ver. 5. Not merely the "oppression or spoiling
of the meek," but that conjoined with the "sighing of the needy,"
bring God into the field. Not affliction alone, but affliction which
impels to prayer, moves Him to "stir up His strength." "Now will I
arise." That solemn "now" marks the crisis, or turning-point, when
long forbearance ends and the crash of retribution begins. It is like
the whirr of the clock that precedes the striking. The swiftly
following blow will ring out the old evil. The purpose of God's
intervention is the safety of the afflicted who have sighed to Him;
but while that is clear, the condensed language of ver. 5 is extremely
obscure. The A.V.'s rendering, "I will set him in safety from him that
puffeth at him," requires a too liberal use of supplemental words to
eke out the sense; and the rendering of the R.V. (margin), "the safety
he panteth for," is most congruous with the run of the sentence and of
the thought. What has just been described as a sigh is now, with equal
naturalness, figured as a pant of eager desire. The former is the
expression of the weight of the affliction, the latter of yearning to
escape from it. The latter is vain waste of breath unless accompanied
with the former, which is also a prayer; but if so accompanied, the
desire of the humble soul is the prophecy of its own fulfilment: and
the measure of the Divine deliverance is regulated by His servant's
longing. He will always, sooner or later, get "the safety for which he
pants." Faith determines the extent of God's gift.

The listening psalmist rapturously responds in ver. 6 to God's great
word. That word stands, with strong force of contrast, side by side
with the arrogant chatter of irresponsible frivolity, and sounds
majestic by the side of the shrill feebleness of the defiance. Now the
psalmist lifts his voice in trustful acceptance of the oracle.

The general sense of ver. 6 is clear, and the metaphor which compares
God's words to refined silver is familiar, but the precise meaning of
the words rendered "in a furnace on the earth" (R.V.) is doubtful. The
word for "furnace" occurs only here, and has consequently been
explained in very different ways, is omitted altogether by the LXX.,
and supposed by Cheyne to be a remnant of an ancient gloss. But the
meaning of furnace or crucible is fairly made out and appropriate. But
what does "tried in a furnace to the earth" mean? The "on the earth"
of the R.V. is scarcely in accordance with the use of the preposition
"to," and the best course is to adopt a supplement and read "tried in
a furnace [and running down] to the earth." The sparkling stream of
molten silver as, free from dross, it runs from the melting-pot to the
mould on the ground, is a beautiful figure of the word of God, clear
of all the impurities of men's words, which the psalm has been
bewailing and raining down on the world. God's words are a silver
shower, precious and bright.

The last turn of the psalm builds hope on the pure words just heard
from heaven. When God speaks a promise, faith repeats it as a
certitude and prophesies in the line of the revelation. "Thou shalt"
is man's answer to God's "I will." In the strength of the Divine word,
the despondency of the opening strain is brightened. The godly and
faithful shall not "cease from among the children of men," since God
will keep them; and His keeping shall preserve them. "This generation"
describes a class rather than an epoch. It means the vain talkers who
have been sketched in such dark colours in the earlier part of the
psalm. These are "the children of men" among whom the meek and needy
are to live, not failing before them because God holds them up. This
hope is for the militant Church, whose lot is to stand for God amidst
wide-flowing evil, which may swell and rage against the band of
faithful ones, but cannot sweep them away. Not of victory which
annihilates opposition, but of charmed lives invulnerable in conflict,
is the psalmist's confidence. There is no more lamenting of the
extinction of good men and their goodness, neither is there triumphant
anticipation of present extinction of bad men and their badness, but
both are to grow together till the harvest.

But even the pure words which promise safety and wake the response of
faith do not wholly scatter the clouds. The psalm recurs very
pathetically at its close to the tone of its beginning. Notice the
repetition of "the children of men" which links ver. 8 with ver. 1. If
the fear that the faithful should fail is soothed by God's promise heard
by the psalmist sounding in his soul, the hard fact of dominant evil is
not altered thereby. That "vileness is set on high among the sons of
men" is the description of a world turned upside down. Beggars are on
horseback, and princes walking. The despicable is honoured, and
corruption is a recommendation to high position. There have been such
epochs of moral dissolution; and there is always a drift in that
direction, which is only checked by the influence of the "faithful." If
"vileness is set on high among the sons of men," it is because the sons
of men prefer it to the stern purity of goodness. A corrupt people will
crown corrupt men and put them aloft. The average goodness of the
community is generally fairly represented by its heroes, rulers, and
persons to whom influence is given; and when such topsy-turvydom as the
rule of the worst is in fashion, "the wicked walk on every side."
Impunity breeds arrogance; and they swagger and swell, knowing that they
are protected. Impunity multiplies the number; and on every side they
swarm, like vermin in a dirty house. But even when such an outlook
saddens, the soul that has been in the secret place of the Most High and
has heard the words of His mouth will not fall into pessimistic
despondency, nor think that the faithful fail, because the wicked strut.
When tempted to wail, "I, even I only, am left," such a soul will listen
to the still small voice that tells of seven thousands of God's hidden
ones, and will be of good cheer, as knowing that God's men can never
cease so long as God continues.




                              PSALM XIII.

  1  For how long, Jehovah, wilt Thou forget me for ever?
     For how long wilt Thou hide Thy face from me?
  2  For how long shall I brood on schemes (_i.e._, of deliverance) in
            my soul,
     Trouble in my heart by day?
     For how long shall my foe lift himself above me?

  3  Look hither, answer me, Jehovah, my God;
     Lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the death,
  4  Lest my foe say, I have overcome him,
     And oppressors exult when I am moved.

  5  But as for me, in Thy mercy have I trusted;
     Let my heart exult in Thy salvation:
  6  I will sing to Jehovah, for He has dealt bountifully with me.


This little psalm begins in agitation, and ends in calm. The waves run
high at first, but swiftly sink to rest, and at last lie peacefully
glinting in sunshine. It falls into three strophes, of which the first
(vv. 1, 2) is the complaint of endurance strained almost to giving
way; the second (vv. 3, 4) is prayer which feeds fainting faith; and
the third (vv. 5, 6, which are one in the Hebrew) is the voice of
confidence, which, in the midst of trouble, makes future deliverance
and praise a present experience.

However true it is that sorrow is "but for a moment," it seems to last
for an eternity. Sad hours are leaden-footed, and joyful ones winged.
If sorrows passed to our consciousness as quickly as joys, or joys
lingered as long as sorrows, life would be less weary. That
reiterated "How long?" betrays how weary it was to the psalmist. Very
significant is the progress of thought in the fourfold questioning
plaint, which turns first to God, then to himself, then to the enemy.
The root of his sorrow is that God seems to have forgotten him;
therefore his soul is full of plans for relief, and the enemy seems to
be lifted above him. The "sorrow of the world" begins with the visible
evil, and stops with the inward pain; the sorrow which betakes itself
first to God, and thinks last of the foe, has trust embedded in its
depths, and may unblamed use words which sound like impatience. If the
psalmist had not held fast by his confidence, he would not have
appealed to God. So the "illogical" combination in his first cry of
"How long?" and "for ever" is not to be smoothed away, but represents
vividly, because unconsciously, the conflict in his soul from the
mingling of the assurance that God's seeming forgetfulness must have
an end and the dread that it might have none. Luther, who had trodden
the dark places, understood the meaning of the cry, and puts it
beautifully when he says that here "hope itself despairs, and despair
yet hopes, and only that unspeakable groaning is audible with which
the Holy Spirit, who moves over the waters covered with darkness,
intercedes for us." The psalmist is tempted to forget the confidence
expressed in Psalm ix. 18 and to sink to the denial animating the
wicked in Psalms x., xi. The heart wrung by troubles finds little
consolation in the mere intellectual belief in a Divine omniscience.
An idle remembrance which does not lead to actual help is a poor stay
for such a time. No doubt the psalmist knew that forgetfulness was
impossible to God; but a God who, though He remembered, did nothing
for, His servant, was not enough for him, nor is He for any of us.
Heart and flesh cry out for _active_ remembrance; and, however clear
the creed, the tendency of long-continued misery will be to tempt to
the feeling that the sufferer is forgotten. It takes much grace to
cling fast to the belief that He thinks of the poor suppliant whose
cry for deliverance is unanswered. The natural inference is one or
other of the psalmist's two here: God has forgotten or has hidden His
face in indifference or displeasure. The Evangelist's profound
"therefore" is the corrective of the psalmist's temptation: "Jesus
loved" the three sad ones at Bethany; "when therefore He heard that he
was sick, He abode still two days in the place where He was."

Left alone, without God's help, what can a man do but think and think,
plan and scheme to weariness all night and carry a heavy heart as he
sees by daylight how futile his plans are? Probably "by night" should
be supplied in ver. 2 _a_; and the picture of the gnawing cares and
busy thoughts which banish sleep and of the fresh burst of sorrow on
each new morning appeals only too well to all sad souls. A brother
laments across the centuries, and his long-silent wail is as the voice
of our own griefs. The immediate visible occasion of trouble appears
only in the last of the fourfold cries. God's apparent forgetfulness
and the psalmist's own subjective agitations are more prominent than
the "enemy" who "lifts himself above him." His arrogant airs and
oppression would soon vanish if God would arise. The insight which
places him last in order is taught by faith. The soul stands between
God and the external world, with all its possible calamities; and if
the relation with God is right, and help is flowing unbrokenly from
Him, the relation to the world will quickly come right, and the soul
be lifted high above the foe, however lofty he be or think himself.

The agitation of the first strophe is somewhat stilled in the second, in
which the stream of prayer runs clear without such foam, as the
impatient questions of the first part. It falls into four clauses, which
have an approximate correspondence to those of strophe 1. "Look hither,
answer me, Jehovah, my God." The first petition corresponds to the
hiding of God's face, and perhaps the second, by the law of inverted
parallelism, may correspond to the _forgetting_, but in any case the
noticeable thing is the swift decisiveness of spring with which the
psalmist's faith reaches firm ground here. Mark the implied belief that
God's look is not an otiose gaze, but brings immediate act answering the
prayer; mark the absence of copula between the verbs, giving force to
the prayer and swiftness to the sequence of Divine acts; mark the
outgoing of the psalmist's faith in the addition to the name "Jehovah"
(as in ver. 1), of the personal "my God," with all the sweet and
reverent appeal hived in the address. The third petition, "Lighten mine
eyes," is not for illumination of vision, but for renewed strength.
Dying eyes are glazed; a sick man's are heavy and dull. Returning health
brightens them. So here the figure of sickness threatening to become
death stands for trouble, or possibly the "enemy" is a real foe seeking
the life, as will be the most natural interpretation if the Davidic
origin is maintained. To "sleep death" is a forcible compressed
expression, which is only attenuated by being completed. The prayer
rests upon the profound conviction that Jehovah is the fountain of life,
and that only by His continual pouring of fresh vitality into a man can
any eyes be kept from death. The brightest must be replenished from His
hand, or they fail and become dim; the dimmest can be brightened by His
gift of vigorous health. As in the first strophe the psalmist passed
from God to self, and thence to enemies, so he does in the second. His
prayer addresses God; its pleas regard, first, himself, and, second, his
foe. How is the preventing of the enemy's triumph in his being stronger
than the psalmist and of his malicious joy over the latter's misfortune
an argument with God to help? It is the plea, so familiar in the Psalter
and to devout hearts, that God's honour is identified with His servant's
deliverance, a true thought, and one that may reverently be entertained
by the humblest lover of God, but which needs to be carefully guarded.
We must make very sure that God's cause is ours before we can be sure
that ours is His; we must be very completely living for His honour
before we dare assume that His honour is involved in our continuing to
live. As Calvin says, "Cum eo nobis communis erit haec precatio, si sub
Dei imperio et auspiciis militamus."

The storm has all rolled away in the third strophe, in which faith has
triumphed over doubt and anticipates the fulfilment of its prayer. It
begins with an emphatic opposition of the psalmist's personality to the
foe: "But as for me"--however they may rage--"I have trusted in Thy
mercy." Because he has thus trusted, therefore he is sure that that
mercy will work for him salvation or deliverance from his present peril.
Anything is possible rather than that the appeal of faith to God's heart
of love should not be answered. Whoever can say, I have trusted, has the
right to say, I shall rejoice. It was but a moment ago that this man had
asked, How long shall I have sorrow in my heart? and now the sad heart
is flooded with sudden gladness. Such is the magic of faith, which can
see an unrisen light in the thickest darkness, and hear the birds
singing amongst the branches even while the trees are bare and the air
silent. How significant the contrast of the two rejoicings set side by
side: the adversaries' when the good man is "moved"; the good man's when
God's salvation establishes him in his place! The closing strain reaches
forward to deliverance not yet accomplished, and, by the prerogative of
trust, calls things that are not as though they were. "He has dealt
bountifully with me"; so says the psalmist who had begun with "How
long?" No external change has taken place; but his complaint and prayer
have helped him to tighten his grasp of God, and have transported him
into the certain future of deliverance and praise. He who can thus say,
"I will sing," when the hoped-for mercy has wrought salvation, is not
far off singing even while it tarries. The sure anticipation of triumph
is triumph. The sad minor of "How long?" if coming from faithful lips,
passes into a jubilant key, which heralds the full gladness of the yet
future songs of deliverance.




                               PSALM XIV.

  1  The fool says in his heart, There is no God;
     They corrupt; they make abominable their doings;
     There is no one doing good.

  2  Jehovah looketh down from heaven upon the sons of men
     To see if there is any having discernment,
     Seeking after God.

  3  They are all turned aside: together they are become putrid;
     There is no one doing good,
     There is not even one.

  4  Do they not know, all the workers of iniquity,
     Who devour my people [as] they devour bread?
     On Jehovah they do not call.

  5  There they feared a [great] fear,
     For God is in the righteous generation.

  6  The counsel of the afflicted ye would put to shame,
     For God is his refuge.

  7  Oh that the salvation of Israel were come out of Zion!
     When Jehovah brings back the captivity of His people,
     May Jacob exult, may Israel be glad!


This psalm springs from the same situation as Psalms x. and xii. It
has several points of likeness to both. It resembles the former in its
attribution to "the fool" of the heart-speech, "There is no God," and
the latter in its use of the phrases "sons of men" and "generation" as
ethical terms and in its thought of a Divine interference as the
source of safety for the righteous. We have thus three psalms closely
connected, but separated from each other by Psalms xi. and xiii. Now
it is observable that these three have no personal references, and
that the two which part them have. It would appear that the five are
arranged on the principle of alternating a general complaint of the
evil of the times with a more personal pleading of an individual
sufferer. It is also noticeable that these five psalms--a little group
of wailing and sighs--are marked off from the cognate psalms iii.-vii.
and xvi., xvii., by two (Psalms viii. and xv.) in an entirely
different tone. A second recast of this psalm appears in the Elohistic
Book (Psalm liii.), the characteristics of which will be dealt with
there. This is probably the original.

The structure of the psalm is simple, but is not carried out completely.
It should consist of seven verses each having three clauses, and so
having stamped on it the sacred numbers 3 and 7, but vv. 5 and 6 each
want a clause, and are the more vehement from their brevity.

The heavy fact of wide-spread corruption presses on the psalmist, and
starts a train of thought which begins with a sad picture of the deluge
of evil, rises to a vision of God's judgment of and on it, triumphs in
the prospect of the sudden panic which shall shake the souls of the
"workers of iniquity" when they see that God is with the righteous, and
ends with a sigh for the coming of that time. The staple of the poem is
but the familiar contrast of a corrupt world and a righteous God who
judges, but it is cast into very dramatic and vivid form here.

We listen first (ver. 1) to the psalmist's judgment of his generation.
Probably it was very unlike the rosy hues in which a heart less in
contact with God and the unseen would have painted the condition of
things. Eras of great culture and material prosperity may have a very
seamy side, which eyes accustomed to the light of God cannot fail to
see. The root of the evil lay, as the psalmist believed, in a
practical denial of God; and whoever thus denied Him was "a fool." It
does not need formulated atheism in order to say in one's heart,
"There is no God." Practical denial or neglect of His working in the
world, rather than a creed of negation, is in the psalmist's mind. In
effect, we say that there is no God when we shut Him up in a far-off
heaven, and never think of Him as concerned in our affairs. To strip
Him of His justice and rob Him of His control is the part of a fool.
For the Biblical conception of folly is moral perversity rather than
intellectual feebleness, and whoever is morally and religiously wrong
cannot be in reality intellectually right.

The practical denial of God lies at the root of two forms of evil.
Positively, "they have made their doings corrupt and abominable"--rotten
in themselves and sickening and loathsome to pure hearts and to God.
Negatively, they do no good things. That is the dreary estimate of his
cotemporaries forced on this sad-hearted singer, because he himself had
so thrillingly felt God's touch and had therefore been smitten with
loathing of men's low ways and with a passion for goodness. "Sursum
corda" is the only consolation for such hearts.

So the next wave of thought (ver. 2) brings into his consciousness the
solemn contrast between the godless noise and activity of earth and
the silent gaze of God, that marks it all. The strong anthropomorphism
of the vivid picture recalls the stories of the Deluge, of Babel, and
of Sodom, and casts an emotional hue over the abstract thought of the
Divine omniscience and observance. The purpose of the Divine quest is
set forth with deep insight, as being the finding of even one good,
devout man. It is the anticipation of Christ's tender word to the
Samaritan that "the Father seeketh such to worship Him." God's heart
yearns to find hearts that turn to Him; He seeks those who seek Him;
they who seek Him, and only they, are "wise." Other Scriptures present
other reasons for that gaze of God from heaven, but this one in the
midst of its solemnity is gracious with revelation of Divine desires.

What is to be the issue of the strongly contrasted situation in these
two verses: beneath, a world full of godless lawlessness; above, a fixed
eye piercing to the discernment of the inmost nature of actions and
characters? Ver. 3 answers. We may almost venture to say that it shows a
disappointed God, so sharply does it put the difference between what He
desired to see and what He did see. The psalmist's sad estimate is
repeated as the result of the Divine search. But it is also increased in
emphasis and in compass. For "the whole" (race) is the subject.
Universality is insisted on in each clause; "all," "together," "not
one," and strong metaphors are used to describe the condition of
humanity. It is "turned aside," _i.e._, from the way of Jehovah; it is
become putrid, like a rotting carcase, is rank, and smells to heaven.
There is a sad cadence in that "no, not one," as of a hope long
cherished and reluctantly abandoned, not without some tinge of wonder at
the barren results of such a search. This stern indictment is quoted by
St. Paul in Romans as confirmation of his thesis of universal
sinfulness; and, however the psalmist had the wickedness of Israel in
the foreground of his consciousness, his language is studiously wide and
meant to include all "the sons of men."

But this baffled quest cannot be the end. If Jehovah seeks in vain for
goodness on earth, earth cannot go on for ever in godless riot.
Therefore, with eloquent abruptness, the voice from heaven crashes in
upon the "fools" in the full career of their folly. The thunder rolls
from a clear sky. God speaks in ver. 4. The three clauses of the
Divine rebuke roughly correspond with those of ver. 1 in so far as the
first points to ignorance as the root of wrong-doing, the second
charges positive sin, and the third refers to negative evil. "Have all
the workers of iniquity no knowledge?" The question has almost a tone
of surprise, as if even Omniscience found matter of wonder in men's
mysterious love of evil. Jesus "marvelled" at some men's "unbelief";
and certainly sin is the most inexplicable thing in the world, and
might almost astonish God as well as heaven and earth. The meaning of
the word "know" here is best learned from ver. 1. "Not to know" is the
same thing as to be "a fool." That ignorance, which is moral
perversity as well as intellectual blindness, needs not to have a
special object stated. Its thick veil hides all real knowledge of God,
duty, and consequences from men. It makes evil-doing possible. If the
evil-doer could have flashed before him the realities of things, his
hand would stay its crime. It is not true that all sin can be resolved
into ignorance, but it is true that criminal ignorance is necessary to
make sin possible. A bull shuts its eyes when it charges. Men who do
wrong are blind in one eye at least, for, if they saw at the moment
what they probably know well enough, sin would be impossible.

This explanation of the words seems more congruous with ver. 1 than
that of others, "made to know," _i.e._ by experience to rue.

Ver. 4 _b_ is obscure from its compressed brevity "Eating my people,
they eat bread." The A.V. and R.V. take their introduction of the "as"
of comparison from the old translations. The Hebrew has no term of
comparison, but it is not unusual to omit the formal term in rapid and
emotional speech, and the picture of the appetite with which a hungry
man devours his food may well stand for the relish with which the
oppressors swallowed up the innocent. There seems no need for the
ingenuities which have been applied to the interpretation of the
clause, nor for departing, with Cheyne, from the division of the verse
according to the accents. The positive sins of the oppressors, of
which we have heard so much in the connected psalms, are here
concentrated in their cruel plundering of "my people," by which the
whole strain of the psalm leads us to understand the devout kernel of
Israel, in contrast with the mass of "men of the earth" in the nation,
and not the nation as a whole in contrast with heathen enemies.

The Divine indictment is completed by "They call not on Jehovah."
Practical atheism is, of course, prayerless. That negation makes a
dreary silence in the noisiest life, and is in one aspect the crown,
and in another the foundation, of all evil-doing.

The thunder-peal of the Divine voice strikes a sudden panic into the
hosts of evil. "There they feared a fear." The psalmist conceives the
scene and its locality. He does not say "there" when he means "then,"
but he pictures the terror seizing the oppressors where they stood
when the Divine thunder rolled above their heads; and with him, as
with us, "on the spot" implies "at the moment." The epoch of such
panic is left vague. Whensoever in any man's experience that solemn
voice sounds, conscience wakes fear. The revelation by any means of a
God who sees evil and judges it makes cowards of us all. Probably the
psalmist thought of some speedily impending act of judgment; but his
juxtaposition of the two facts, the audible voice of God and the swift
terror that shakes the heart, contains an eternal truth, which men who
whisper in their hearts, "There is no God," need to ponder.

This verse 5 is the first of the two shorter verses of our psalm,
containing only two clauses instead of the regular three; but it does
not therefore follow that anything has dropped out. Rather the
framework is sufficiently elastic to allow of such variation according
to the contents, and the shorter verse is not without a certain
increase of vigour, derived from the sharp opposition of its two
clauses. On the one hand is the terror of the sinner occasioned by and
contrasted with the discovery which stands on the other that God is in
the righteous generation. The psalmist sets before himself and us the
two camps: the panic-stricken and confused mass of enemies ready to
break into flight and the little flock of the "righteous generation,"
at peace in the midst of trouble and foes because God is in the midst
of them. No added clause could heighten the effect of that contrast,
which is like that of the host of Israel walking in light and safety
on one side of the fiery pillar and the army of Pharaoh groping in
darkness and dread on the other. The permanent relations of God to the
two sorts of men who are found in every generation and community are
set forth in that strongly marked contrast.

In ver. 6 the psalmist himself addresses the oppressors, with
triumphant confidence born of his previous contemplations. The first
clause might be a question, but is more probably a taunting
affirmation: "You would frustrate the plans of the afflicted"--and you
could not--"for Jehovah is his refuge." Here again the briefer
sentence brings out the eloquent contrast. The malicious foe, seeking
to thwart the poor man's plans, is thwarted. His desire is
unaccomplished; and there is but one explanation of the impotence of
the mighty and the powerfulness of the weak, namely that Jehovah is
the stronghold of His saints. Not by reason of his own wit or power
does the afflicted baffle the oppressor, but by reason of the strength
and inaccessibleness of his hiding-place. "The conies are a feeble
folk, but they make their houses in the rocks," where nothing that has
not wings can get at them.

So, finally, the whole course of thought gathers itself up in the prayer
that the salvation of Israel--the true Israel apparently--were come out
of Zion, God's dwelling, from which He comes forth in His delivering
power. The salvation longed for is that just described. The voice of the
oppressed handful of good men in an evil generation is heard in this
closing prayer. It is encouraged by the visions which have passed before
the psalmist. The assurance that God will intervene is the very
life-breath of the cry to Him that He would. Because we know that He
will deliver, therefore we find it in our hearts to pray that He would
deliver. The revelation of His gracious purposes animates the longings
for their realisation. Such a sigh of desire has no sadness in its
longing and no doubt in its expectation. It basks in the light of an
unrisen sun, and feels beforehand the gladness of the future joys "when
the Lord shall bring again the captivity of His people."

This last verse is by some regarded as a liturgical addition to the
psalm; but ver. 6 cannot be the original close, and it is scarcely
probable that some other ending has been put aside to make room for
this. Besides, the prayer of ver. 7 coheres very naturally with the rest
of the psalm, if only we take that phrase "turns the captivity" in the
sense which it admittedly bears in Job xlii. 10 and Ezek. xvi. 53,
namely that of deliverance from misfortune. Thus almost all modern
interpreters understand the words, and even those who most strongly hold
the late date of the psalm do not find here any reference to the
historical bondage. The devout kernel of the nation is suffering from
oppressors, and that may well be called a captivity. For a good man the
present condition of society is bondage, as many a devout soul has felt
since the psalmist did. But there is a dawning hope of a better day of
freedom, the liberty of the glory of the children of God; and the
gladness of the ransomed captives may be in some degree anticipated even
now. The psalmist was thinking only of some intervention on the field of
history, and we are not to read loftier hopes into his song. But it is
as impossible for Christians not to entertain, as it was for him to
grasp firmly, the last, mightiest hope of a last, utter deliverance from
all evil and of an eternal and perfect joy.




                               PSALM XV.

  1  Jehovah, who can be guest in Thy tent?
       Who can dwell in Thy holy hill?

  2  The man walking blamelessly, and doing righteousness,
       And speaking truth with his heart.

  3  He has not slander on his tongue,
       He does not harm to his comrade,
       And reproach he does not lay on his neighbour.

  4  A reprobate is despised in his eyes,
       But the fearers of Jehovah he honours;
       He swears to his own hurt, and will not change.

  5  His silver he does not give at usury,
       And a bribe against the innocent he does not take;
       He that does these things shall not be moved for ever.


The ideal worshipper of Jehovah is painted in this psalm in a few broad
outlines. Zion is holy because God's "tent" is there. This is the only
hint of date given by the psalm; and all that can be said is that, if
that consecration of Thy hill was recent, the poet would naturally
ponder all the more deeply the question of who were fit to dwell in the
new solemnities of the abode of Jehovah. The tone of the psalm, then,
accords with the circumstances of the time when David brought the ark to
Jerusalem; but more than this cannot be affirmed. Much more important
are its two main points: the conception of the guests of Jehovah and the
statement of the ethical qualifications of these.

As to structure, the psalm is simple. It has, first, the general
question and answer in two verses of two clauses each (vv. 1, 2). Then
the general description of the guest of God is expanded in three
verses of three clauses each, the last of which closes with an
assurance of stability, which varies and heightens the idea of
dwelling in the tent of Jehovah.

It is no mere poetic apostrophe with which the psalmist's question is
prefaced. He does thereby consult the Master of the house as to the
terms on which He extends hospitality, which terms it is His right to
prescribe. He brings to his own view and to his readers' all that lies
in the name of Jehovah, the covenant name, and all that is meant by
"holiness," and thence draws the answer to his question, which is none
the less Jehovah's answer because it springs in the psalmist's heart
and is spoken by his lips. The character of the God determines the
character of the worshipper. The roots of ethics are in religion. The
Old Testament ideal of the righteous man flows from its revelation of
the righteous God. Not men's own fancies, but insight gained by
communion with God and docile inquiry of Him, will reliably tell what
manner of men they are who can abide in His light.

The thought, expressed so forcibly in the question of the psalm, that
men may be God's guests, is a very deep and tender one, common to a
considerable number of psalms (v. 5, xxvii. 4, lxxxiv. 5, etc.). The
word translated "abide" in the A.V. and "sojourn" in the R.V.
originally implied a transient residence as a stranger, but when
applied to men's relations to God, it does not always preserve the
idea of transiency (see, for instance, lxi. 4: "I will dwell in Thy
tent _for ever_"); and the idea of protection is the most prominent.
The stranger who took refuge in the tent even of the wild Beduin was
safe, much more the happy man who crept under the folds of the tent of
Jehovah. If the holy hill of Zion were not immediately mentioned, one
might be tempted to think that the tent here was only used as a
metaphor; but the juxtaposition of the two things seems to set the
allusion to the dwelling-place of the Ark on its hill beyond question.
In the gracious hospitality of the antique world, a guest was
sheltered from all harm; his person was inviolable, his wants all met.
So the guest of Jehovah is safe, can claim asylum from every foe and a
share in all the bountiful provision of His abode. Taken accurately,
the two verbs in ver. 1 differ in that the first implies transient and
the second permanent abode; but that difference is not in the
psalmist's mind, and the two phrases mean the same thing, with only
the difference that the former brings out his conception of the rights
of the guest. Clearly, then, the psalmist's question by no means
refers only to an outward approach to an outward tabernacle; but we
see here the symbol in the very act of melting into the deep spiritual
reality signified. The singer has been educated by the husks of ritual
to pass beyond these, and has learned that there is a better
dwelling-place for Jehovah, and therefore for himself, than that
pitched on Zion and frequented by impure and pure alike.

Ver. 2 sums the qualifications of Jehovah's guest in one comprehensive
demand, that he should walk uprightly, and then analyses that
requirement into the two of righteous deeds and truthful speech. The
verbs are in the participial form, which emphasises the notion of
habitual action. The general answer is expanded in the three following
verses, which each contain three clauses, and take up the two points
of ver. 2 in inverted order, although perhaps not with absolute
accuracy of arrangement. The participial construction is in them
changed for finite verbs. Ver. 2 sketches the figure in outline, and
the rest of the psalm adds clause on clause of description as if the
man stood before the psalmist's vision. Habits are described as acts.

The first outstanding characteristic of this ideal is that it deals
entirely with duties to men, and the second is that it is almost
wholly negative. Moral qualities of the most obvious kind, and such as
can be tested in daily life and are cultivated by rigid abstinence
from prevailing evils, and not any recondite and impalpable
refinements of conduct, still less any peculiar emotions of souls
raised high above the dusty levels of common life, are the
qualifications for dwelling, a guarded guest, in that great pavilion.
Such a stress laid on homely duties, which the universal conscience
recognises, is characteristic of the ethics of the Old Testament as a
whole and of the Psalter in particular, and is exemplified in the
lives of its saints and heroes. They "come eating and drinking,"
sharing in domestic joys and civic duties; and however high their
aspirations and vows may soar, they have always their feet firmly
planted on the ground and, laying the smallest duties on themselves,
"tread life's common road in cheerful godliness." The Christian answer
to the psalmist's question goes deeper than his, but is fatally
incomplete unless it include his and lay the same stress on duties to
men which all acknowledge, as that does. Lofty emotions, raptures of
communion, aspirations which bring their own fulfilment, and all the
experiences of the devout soul, which are sometimes apt to be divorced
from plain morality, need the ballast of the psalmist's homely answer
to the great question. There is something in a religion of emotion
not wholly favourable to the practice of ordinary duties; and many
men, good after a fashion, seem to have their spiritual nature divided
into water-tight and uncommunicating compartments, in one of which
they keep their religion, and in the other their morality.

The stringent assertion that these two are inseparable was the great
peculiarity of Judaism as compared with the old world religions, from
which, as from the heathenism of to-day, the conception that religion
had anything to do with conduct was absent. But it is not only
heathenism that needs the reminder.

True, the ideal drawn here is not the full Christian one. It is too
merely negative for that, and too entirely concerned with acts.
Therein it reproduces the limitations of the earlier revelation. It
scarcely touches at all the deeper forms of "love to our neighbour";
and, above all, it has no answer to the question which instinctively
rises in the heart when the psalm has answered its own question. How
can I attain to these qualifications? is a second interrogation,
raised by the response to the first, and for its answer we have to
turn to Jesus. The psalm, like the law which inspired it, is mainly
negative, deals mainly with acts, and has no light to show how its
requirements may be won. But it yet stands as an unantiquated
statement of what a man must be who dwells in the secret place of the
Most High. How he may become such a one we must learn from Him who
both teaches us the way, and gives us the power, to become such as God
will shelter in the safe recesses of His pavilion.

The details of the qualifications as described in the psalm are simple
and homely. They relate first to right speech, which holds so
prominent a place in the ethics of the Psalter. The triplets of ver. 3
probably all refer to sins of the tongue. The good man has no slander
on his tongue; he does not harm his companion (by word) nor heap
reproach on his neighbour. These things are the staple of much common
talk. What a quantity of brilliant wit and polished sarcasm would
perish if this rule were observed! How dull many sparkling circles
would become, and how many columns of newspapers and pages of books
would be obliterated, if the censor's pencil struck out all that
infringed it! Ver. 4 adds as characteristic of a righteous man that in
his estimate of character he gives each his own, and judges men by no
other standard than their moral worth. The reprobate may be a
millionaire or a prince, but his due is contempt; the devout man may
be a pauper or one of narrow culture, but his due is respect, and he
gets it. "A terrible sagacity informs" the good man's heart; and he
who is, in his own inmost desires, walking uprightly will not be
seduced into adulation of a popular idol who is a bad man, nor turned
from reverence for lowly goodness. The world will be a paradise when
the churl is no more called bountiful.

Apparently the utterance of these estimates is in the psalmist's mind,
and he is still thinking of speech. Neither calumny (ver. 3) nor the
equally ignoble flattery of evil-doers (ver. 4) pollutes the lips of
his ideal good man. If this reference to spoken estimates is allowed,
the last clause of ver. 4 completes the references to the right use of
speech. The obligation of speaking "truth with his heart" is pursued
into a third region: that of vows or promises. These must be conceived
as not religious vows, but, in accordance with the reference of the
whole psalm to duties to neighbours, as oaths made to men. They must
be kept, whatever consequences may ensue. The law prohibited the
substitution of another animal sacrifice for that which had been vowed
(Lev. xxvii. 10); and the psalm uses the same word for "changeth,"
with evident allusion to the prohibition, which must therefore have
been known to the psalmist.

Usury and bribery were common sins, as they still are in communities
on the same industrial and judicial level as that mirrored in the
psalm. Capitalists who "bite" the poor (for that is the literal
meaning of the words for usurious taking of interest) and judges who
condemn the innocent for gain are the blood-suckers of such societies.
The avoidance of such gross sin is a most elementary illustration of
walking uprightly, and could only have been chosen to stand in lieu of
all other neighbourly virtues in an age when these sins were
deplorably common. This draft of a God-pleasing character is by no
means complete even from the Old Testament ethical point of view.
There are two variations of it, which add important elements: that in
Psalm xxiv., which seems to have been occasioned by the same
circumstances; and the noble adaptation in Isa. xxxiii. 13-16, which
is probably moulded on a reminiscence of both psalms. Add to these
Micah's answer to the question what God requires of man (ch. vi. 8),
and we have an interesting series, exhibiting the effects of the Law
on the moral judgments of devout men in Israel.

The psalmist's last word goes beyond his question, in the clear
recognition that such a character as he has outlined not only dwells
in Jehovah's tent, but will stand unmoved, though all the world should
rock. He does not see how far onward that "for ever" may stretch, but
of this he is sure: that righteousness is the one stable thing in the
universe, and there may have shone before him the hope that it was
possible to travel on beyond the horizon that bounds this life. "I
shall be a guest in Jehovah's tent for ever," says the other psalm
already quoted; "He shall never be moved," says this one. Both find
their fulfilment in the great words of the Apostle who taught a
completer ideal of love to men, because he had dwelt close by the
perfect revelation of God's love: "The world passeth away, and the
lust thereof, but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever."




                               PSALM XVI.

   1  Preserve me, O God, for I take refuge in Thee
   2  I have said to Jehovah, Thou art my Lord;
      Good for me there is none besides Thee.
   3  As for the saints which are in the earth,
      They are the excellent, in whom is all my delight.
   4  Their griefs are many who change [Jehovah] for another.
      I will not pour out their drink offerings of blood,
      And will not take their names on my lips.

   5  Jehovah is my allotted portion and my cup;
      Thou art continually my lot.
   6  The measuring lines have fallen for me in pleasant places,
      And my inheritance is fair to me.
   7  I will bless Jehovah who has given me counsel;
      Yea, in the night seasons my reins instruct me.
   8  I set Jehovah before me continually,
      Because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved.

   9  Therefore my heart rejoices, and my glory exults;
      Yea, my flesh dwells in safety.
  10  For Thou wilt not leave my soul to Sheol;
      Thou wilt not suffer Thy Beloved One to see the pit.
  11  Thou wilt make me know the path of life;
      Before Thy face is fulness of joys;
      Pleasures are in Thy right hand for evermore.


The progress of thought in this psalm is striking. The singer is first
a bold confessor in the face of idolatry and apostasy (vv. 1-4). Then
the inward sweetness of his faith fills his soul, as is ever the
reward of brave avowal, and he buries himself, bee-like in the pure
delights of communion with Jehovah (vv. 5-8). Finally, on the ground
of such experience, he rises to the assurance that "its very
sweetness yieldeth proof" that he and it are born for undying life
(vv. 9-11). The conviction of immortality is then most vividly felt,
when it results from the consciousness of a present full of God. The
outpourings of a pure and wholesome mystic religion in the psalm are
so entirely independent of the personality and environment of the
singer that there is no need to encumber the study of it with
questions of date. If we accept the opinion that the conception of
resurrection was the result of intercourse with Persia, we shall have
to give a post-exilic date to the psalm. But even if the general
adoption of that belief was historically so motived, that does not
forbid our believing that select souls, living in touch with God, rose
to it long before. The peaks caught the glow while the valleys were
filled with mists. The tone of the last section sounds liker that of a
devout soul in the very act of grasping a wonderful new thought, which
God was then and there revealing to him through his present
experience, than of one who was simply repeating a theological truth
become familiar to all.

The first turn of thought (vv. 1-4) is clear in its general purport.
It is a profession of personal adherence to Jehovah and of attachment
to His lovers, in the face of idol worship which had drawn away some.
The brief cry for preservation at the beginning does not necessarily
imply actual danger, but refers to the possible antagonism of the idol
worshippers provoked by the psalmist's bold testimony. The two
meanings of Martyr, a witness and a sufferer, are closely intertwined
in fact. He needs to be preserved, and he has a claim to be so, for
his profession of faith has brought the peril.

The remarkable expression in ver. 2 _b_ is best understood as
unfolding the depth of what lies in saying, My God. It means the
cleaving to Him of the whole nature as the all-comprehending supply of
every desire and capacity. "Good for me is none besides Thee." This is
the same high strain as in the cognate Psalm lxxiii. 25, where, as
here, the joy of communion is seen in the very act of creating the
confidence of immortality. The purest expression of the loftiest
devotion lies in these few words. The soul that speaks thus to Jehovah
turns next to Jehovah's friends and then to His foes. To the former it
speaks, in ver. 3, of the gnarled obscurity of which the simplest
clearing up is that adopted by the R.V. This requires a very small
correction of the text, the omission of one letter, (_Waw_ = and)
before "excellent," and the transference to the second clause of
"these," which the accents append clumsily to the first. If we regard
the "to" at the beginning, as the R.V. does, as marking simply
reference ("as for"), the verse is an independent sentence; but it is
possible to regard the influence of "I have said" as still continuing,
and in that case we should have what the psalmist said to the saints,
following on what he said to Jehovah, which gives unity to the whole
context, and is probably best. Cheyne would expunge the first clause
as a gloss crept in from the margin; and that clears the sense, though
the remedy is somewhat drastic, and a fine touch is lost, "I said to
Thy loved ones,--these (and not the braggarts who strut as great men)
are the truly excellent, in whom is all my delight." When temptations
to forsake Jehovah are many, the true worshipper has to choose his
company, and his devotion to his only God will lead to penetrating
insight into the unreality of many shining reputations and the modest
beauty of humble lives of godliness. Eyes which have been purged to
see God, by seeing Him will see through much. Hearts that have learned
to love Jehovah will be quick to discern kindred hearts, and, if they
have found all good in Him, will surely find purest delight in them.
The solitary confessor clasps the hands of his unknown fellows.

With dramatic abruptness he points to the unnamed recreants from
Jehovah. "Their griefs are many--they exchange (Jehovah) for another."
Apparently, then, there was some tendency in Israel to idolatry, which
gives energy to the psalmist's vehement vow that he will not offer
their libations of blood, nor take the abhorred names of the gods they
pronounced into his lips. This state of things would suit but too much
of Israel's history, during which temptations to idol worship were
continually present, and the bloody libations would point to such
abominations of human sacrifice as we know characterised the worship
of Moloch and Chemosh. Cheyne sees in the reference to these a sign of
the post-exilic date of the psalm; but was there any period after the
exile in which there was danger of relapse to idolatry, and was not
rather a rigid monotheism the great treasure which the exiles brought
back? The trait seems rather to favour an earlier date.

In the second section (vv. 5-8) the devout soul suns itself in the
light of God, and tells itself how rich it is. "The portion of mine
inheritance" might mean an allotted share of either food or land, but
ver. 6 favours the latter interpretation. "Cup" here is not so much an
image for that which satisfies thirst, though that would be beautiful,
as for that which is appointed for one to experience. Such a use of
the figure is familiar, and brings it into line with the other of
inheritance, which is plainly the principal, as that of the cup is
dropped in the following words. Every godly man has the same
possession and the same prohibitions as the priests had. Like them he
is landless, and instead of estates has Jehovah. They presented in
mere outward fashion what is the very law of the devout life. Because
God is the only true Good, the soul must have none other, and if it
have forsaken all other by reason of the greater wealth of even
partial possession of Him, it will be growingly rich in Him. He who
has said unto the Lord, "Thou art my Lord," will with ever increasing
decisiveness of choice and consciousness of sufficiency say, "The Lord
is the portion of mine inheritance." The same figure is continued in
ver. 5 _b_. "My lot" is the same idea as "my portion," and the natural
flow of thought would lead us to expect that Jehovah is both. That
consideration combines with the very anomalous grammatical form of the
word rendered "maintainest" to recommend the slight alteration adopted
by Cheyne following Dyserinck and Bickell, by which "continually" is
read for it. What God is rather than what He does is filling the
psalmist's happy thoughts, and the depth of his blessedness already
kindles that confidence in its perpetuity which shoots up to so bright
a flame in the closing verses (cf. lxxiii.). The consciousness of
perfect rest in perfect satisfaction of need and desires ever follows
possession of God. So the calm rapture of ver. 6 is the true utterance
of the heart acquainted with God, and of it alone. One possession only
bears reflection. Whatever else a man has, if he has not Jehovah for
his portion, some part of himself will stand stiffly out, dissentient
and unsatisfied, and hinder him from saying "My inheritance is fair
to me." That verdict of experience implies, as it stands in the
Hebrew, subjective delight in the portion and not merely the objective
worth of it. This is the peculiar pre-eminence of a God-filled life,
that the Infinitely good is wholly Good to it, through all the extent
of capacities and cravings. Who else can say the same? Blessed they
whose delights are in God! He will ever delight them.

No wonder that the psalmist breaks into blessing; but it is deeply
significant of the freedom from mere sentimental religion which
characterises the highest flights of his devotion, that his special
ground of blessing Jehovah is not inward peace of communion, but the
wise guidance given thereby for daily difficulties. A God whose sweet
sufficiency gives satisfaction for all desires and balm for every
wound is much, but a God who by these very gifts makes duty plain, is
more. The test of inward devotion is its bearing on common tasks. True
wisdom is found in fellowship with God. Eyes which look on Him see
many things more clearly. The "reins" are conceived of as the seat of
the Divine voice. In Old Testament psychology they seem to stand for
feelings rather than reason or conscience, and it is no mistake of the
psalmist's when he thinks that through them God's counsel comes. He
means much the same as we do when we say that devout instincts are of
God. He will purify, ennoble and instruct even the lower propensities
and emotions, so that they may be trusted to guide, when the heart is
at rest in Him. "Prayer is better than sleep," says the Mohammedan
call to devotion. "In the night seasons," says the psalmist, when
things are more clearly seen in the dark than by day, many a whisper
from Jehovah steals into his ears.

The upshot of all is a firm resolve to make really his what is his. "I
set Jehovah always before me"--since He is "always my lot." That
effort of faith is the very life of devotion. We have any possession
only while it is present to our thoughts. It is all one not to have a
great estate and never to see it or think about it. True love is an
intense desire for the presence of its object. God is only ours in
reality when we are conscious of His nearness, and that is strange
love of Him which is content to pass days without ever setting Him
before itself. The effort of faith brings an ally and champion for
faith, for "He is at my right hand," in so far as I set Him before me.
"At my right hand,"--then I am at His left, and the left arm wears the
shield, and the shield covers my head. Then He is close by my working
hand, to direct its activity and to lay His own great hand on my
feeble one, as the prophet did his on the wasted fingers of the sick
king to give strength to draw the bow. The ally of faith secures the
stability of faith. "I shall not be moved," either by the agitations
of passions or by the shocks of fortune. A calm heart, which is not
the same thing as a stagnant heart, is the heritage of him who has God
at his side; and he who is fixed on that rock stands four-square to
all the winds that blow. Foolhardy self-reliance says, I shall never
be moved (x. 6), and the end of that boast is destruction. A good man,
seduced by prosperity, may forget himself so far as to say it (xxx.
6), and the end of that has to be fatherly discipline, to bring him
right. But to say "Because He is at my right hand I shall not be
moved" is but to claim the blessings belonging to the possession of
the only satisfying inheritance, even Jehovah Himself.

The heart that expands with such blessed consciousness of possessing
God can chant its triumphant song even in front of the grave. So, in
his closing strain the psalmist pours out his rapturous faith that his
fellowship with God abolishes death. No worthy climax to the profound
consciousness of communion already expressed, nor any satisfactory
progress of thought justifying the "therefore" of ver. 9, can be made
out with any explanation of the final verses, which eliminates the
assurance of immortal life from them. The experiences of the devout
life here are prophecies. These aspirations and enjoyments are to
their possessor, not only authentic proofs "that God is and that He is
the rewarder of the heart that seeks Him," but also witnesses of
immortality not to be silenced. They "were not born for death," but,
in their sweetness and incompleteness alike, point onwards to their
own perpetuity and perfecting. If a man has been able to say and has
said "My God," nothing will seem more impossible to him than that such
a trifle as death should have power to choke his voice or still the
outgoings of his heart towards, and its rest in, his God. Whatever may
have been the current beliefs of the psalmist's time in regard to a
future life, and whether his sunny confidence here abode with him in
less blessed hours of less "high communion with the living God," or
ebbed away, leaving him to the gloomier thoughts of other psalms, we
need not try to determine. Here, at all events, we see his faith in
the act of embracing the great thought, which may have been like the
rising of a new sun in his sky--namely, the conviction that this his
joy was joy for ever. A like depth of personal experience of the
sweetness of communion with God will always issue in like far-seeing
assurance of its duration as unaffected by anything that touches only
the physical husk of the true self. If we would be sure of immortal
life, we must make the mortal a God-filled life.

The psalmist feels the glad certainty in all his complex nature,
heart, soul, and flesh. All three have their portion in the joy which
it brings. The foundation of the exultation of heart and soul and of
the quiet rest of flesh is not so much the assurance that after death
there will be life, and after the grave a resurrection, as the
confidence that there will be no death at all. To "see the pit" is a
synonym for experiencing death, and what is hoped for is exemption
from it altogether, and a Divine hand leading him, as Enoch was led,
along the high levels on a "path of life" which leads to God's right
hand, without any grim descent to the dark valley below. Such an
expectation may be called vain, but we must distinguish between the
form and the substance of the psalmist's hope. Its essence
was--unbroken and perfected communion with God, uninterrupted sense of
possessing Him, and therein all delights and satisfactions. To secure
these he dared to hope that for him death would be abolished. But he
died, and assuredly he found that the unbroken communion for which he
longed was persistent through death, and that in dying his hope that
he should not die was fulfilled beyond his hope.

The correspondence between his effort of faith in ver. 8 and his final
position in ver. 11 is striking. He who sets Jehovah continually
before himself will, in due time, come where there are fulness of joys
before God's face; and he who here, amid distractions and sorrows,
has kept Jehovah at his right hand as his counsellor, defender and
companion, will one day stand at Jehovah's right hand, and be
satisfied for evermore with the uncloying and inexhaustible pleasures
that there abide.

The singer, whose clear notes thus rang above the grave, died and saw
corruption. But, as the apostolic use of this psalm as a prophecy of
Christ's resurrection has taught us, the apparent contradiction of his
triumphal chant by the fact of his death did not prove it to be a vain
dream. If there ever should be a life of absolutely unbroken
communion, that would be a life in which death would be abolished.
Jesus Christ is God's "Beloved" as no other is. He has conquered death
as no other has. The psalm sets forth the ideal relation of the
perfectly devout man to death and the future, and that ideal is a
reality in Him, from whom the blessed continuity, which the psalmist
was sure must belong to fellowship so close as was his with God, flows
to all who unite themselves with Him. He has trodden the path of life
which He shows to us, and it _is_ life, at every step, even when it
dips into the darkness of what men call death, whence it rises into
the light of the Face which it is joy to see, and close to the loving
strong Hand which holds and gives pleasures for evermore.




                              PSALM XVII.

   1  Hear a righteous cause, Jehovah, attend to my cry;
      Give ear to my prayer from no lips of guile.
   2  From Thy face let my sentence go forth;
      Thine eyes behold rightly.
   3  Thou provest my heart, searchest it by night,
      Triest me by fire: Thou findest not [anything];
      Should I purpose evil, it shall not pass my mouth (?)
   4  As for (During) the doings of men, by the word of Thy lips
      I have kept [me from] the paths of the violent man.
   5  My steps have held fast to Thy ways;
      My feet have not slipped.

   6  I, I call upon Thee, for Thou wilt answer me, O God;
      Incline Thine ear unto me: hear my speech.
   7  Magnify (Make wonderful) Thy loving-kindnesses, Thou who savest
            those who seek refuge
      From those who rise [against them?] by Thy right hand.
   8  Keep me as the pupil, the daughter of the eye;
      In the shadow of Thy wing hide me
   9  From the wicked, who lay me waste,
      My enemies at heart, [who] ring me round.
  10  Their heart they have shut up;
      With their mouth they speak in arrogance.
  11  In our steps, they already compass us about;
      Their eyes they fix, to lay [us] on the ground.
  12  He is like a lion who longs to rend,
      And a young lion crouching in coverts.

  13  Arise, Jehovah: meet his face: make him crouch;
      Deliver my soul from the wicked [with] Thy sword,
  14  From men [by] Thy hand, Jehovah, from men of the world,
      [Having] their portion in [this] life, and [with] Thy hidden
            treasure Thou fillest their belly;
      They are full of sons, and leave their overabundance to their
            children.
  15  I, I shall in righteousness behold Thy face;
            I shall be satisfied on awaking [with] Thy likeness.


The investigations as to authorship and date yield the usual
conflicting results. Davidic, say one school; undoubtedly post-exilic,
say another, without venturing on closer definition; late in the
Persian period, says Cheyne. Perhaps we may content ourselves with the
modest judgment of Baethgen in his last book ("Handcommentar," 1892,
p. 45): "The date of composition cannot be decided by internal
indications." The background is the familiar one of causeless foes
round an innocent sufferer, who flings himself into God's arms for
safety, and in prayer enters into peace and hope. He is, no doubt, a
representative of the _Ecclesia pressa_; but he is so just because his
cry is intensely personal. The experience of one is the type for all,
and a poet's prerogative is to cast his most thoroughly individual
emotions into words that fit the universal heart. The psalm is called
a "prayer," a title given to only four other psalms, none of which are
in the First Book. It has three movements, marked by the repetition of
the name of God, which does not appear elsewhere, except in the
doubtful verse 14. These three are vv. 1-5, in which the cry for help
is founded on a strong profession of innocence; vv. 6-12, in which it
is based on a vivid description of the enemies; and vv. 13-15, in
which it soars into the pure air of mystic devotion, and thence looks
down on the transient prosperity of the foe and upwards, in a rapture
of hope, to the face of God.

The petition proper, in vv. 1, 2, and its ground, are both strongly
marked by conscious innocence, and therefore sound strange to our
ears, trained as we have been by the New Testament to deeper insight
into sin. This sufferer asks God to "hear righteousness," _i.e._ his
righteous cause. He pleads the _bona fides_ of his prayer, the fervour
of which is marked by its designation as "my _cry_," the high-pitched
note usually the expression of joy, but here of sore need and strong
desire. Boldly he asks for his "sentence from Thy face," and the
ground of that petition is that "Thine eyes behold rightly." Was
there, then, no inner baseness that should have toned down such
confidence? Was this prayer not much the same as the Pharisee's in
Christ's parable? The answer is partly found in the considerations
that the innocence professed is specially in regard to the occasions
of the psalmist's present distress, and that the acquittal by
deliverance which he asks is God's testimony that as to these he was
slandered and clear. But, further, the strong professions of
heart-cleanness and outward obedience which follow are not so much
denials of any sin as avowals of sincere devotion and honest
submission of life to God's law. They are "the answer of a good
conscience towards God," expressed, indeed, more absolutely than
befits Christian consciousness, but having nothing in common with
Pharisaic self-complacency. The modern type of religion which recoils
from such professions, and contents itself with always confessing sins
which it has given up hope of overcoming, would be all the better for
listening to the psalmist and aiming a little more vigorously and
hopefully at being able to say, "I know nothing against myself." There
is no danger in such a saying, if it be accompanied by "Yet am I not
hereby justified" and by "Who can understand his errors? Cleanse Thou
me from secret faults."

The general drift of vv. 3-5 is clear, but the precise meaning and
connection are extremely obscure. Probably the text is faulty. It has
been twisted in all sorts of ways, the Masoretic accents have been
disregarded, the division of verses set aside, and still no proposed
rendering of parts of vv. 3, 4, is wholly satisfactory. The psalmist
deals with heart, lips, feet--that is, thoughts, words, and deeds--and
declares the innocence of all. But difficulties begin when we look
closer. The first question is as to the meaning and connection of the
word rendered in the A.V. and R.V., "I am purposed." It may be a first
person singular or an infinitive used as a noun or even a noun,
meaning, in both the latter cases, substantially the same, _i.e._ my
thinking or my thoughts. It is connected by the accents with what
follows; but in that case the preceding verb "find" is left without an
object, and hence many renderings attach the word to the preceding
clause, and so get "Thou shalt find no [evil] thoughts in me." This
division of the clauses leaves the words rendered, by A.V. and R.V.,
"My mouth shall not transgress," standing alone. There is no other
instance of the verb standing by itself with that meaning, nor is
"mouth" clearly the subject. It may as well be the object, and the
clause be, "[It] shall not pass my mouth." If that is the meaning, we
have to look to the preceding word as defining what it is that is thus
to be kept unuttered, and so detach it from the verb "find," as the
accents do. The knot has been untied in two ways: "My [evil] purpose
shall not pass," etc., or, taking the word as a verb and regarding the
clause as hypothetical, "Should I think evil, it shall not pass," etc.

Either of these renderings has the advantage of retaining the
recognised meaning of the verb and of avoiding neglect of the accent.
Such a rendering has been objected to as inconsistent with the
previous clause, but the psalmist may be looking back to it, feeling
that his partial self-knowledge makes it a bold statement, and thus
far limiting it, that _if_ any evil thought is found in his heart, it
is sternly repressed in silence.

Obscurity continues in ver. 4. The usual rendering, "As for [or,
During] the works of men, by the word of Thy mouth I have kept me,"
etc., is against the accents, which make the principal division of the
verse fall after "lips"; but no satisfactory sense results if the
accentuation is followed unless we suppose a verb implied, such as,
_e.g._, _stand fast_ or the like, so getting the profession of
steadfastness in the words of God's lips, in face of men's self-willed
doings. But this is precarious, and probably the ordinary way of
cutting the knot by neglecting the accents is best. In any case the
avowal of innocence passes here from thoughts and words to acts. The
contrast of the psalmist's closed mouth and God's lips is significant,
even if unintended. Only he who silences much that rises in his heart
can hear God speaking. "I kept me from," is a very unusual meaning for
the word employed, which generally signifies to _guard_ or _watch_,
but here seems to mean _to take heed so as to avoid_. Possibly the
preposition _from_, denoted by a single letter, has fallen out before
"paths." This negative avoidance precedes positive walking in God's
ways, since the poet's position is amidst evil men. Goodness has to
learn to say No to men, if it is ever to say Yes to God. The foot has
to be forcibly plucked and vigilantly kept from foul ways before it
can be planted firmly in "Thy paths." By holding fast to courses
appointed by God stability is ensured. Thus the closing clause of this
first part is rather an acknowledgment of the happy result of devoted
cleaving to God than an assertion of self-secured steadfastness. "My
feet do not slip," not so much because they are strong as because the
road is good, and the Guide's word and hand ready.

The second part repeats the prayer for help, but bases it on the
double ground of God's character and acts and of the suppliant's
desperate straits; and of these two the former comes first in the
prayer, though the latter has impelled to the prayer. Faith may be
helped to self-consciousness by the sense of danger, but when awakened
it grasps God's hand first and then faces its foes. In this part of
the psalm the petitions, the aspects of the Divine character and
working, and the grim picture of dangers are all noteworthy. The
petitions by their number and variety reveal the pressure of trouble,
each new prick of fear or pain forcing a new cry and each cry
recording a fresh act of faith tightening its grasp. The "I" in ver. 6
is emphatic, and may be taken as gathering up the psalmist's preceding
declarations and humbly laying them before God as a plea: "_I, who
thus cleave to Thy ways_, call upon Thee, and my prayer is that of
faith, which is sure of answer." But that confidence does not make
petition superfluous, but rather encourages it. The assurance that
"Thou wilt answer" is the reason for the prayer, "Incline Thine ear."
Naturally at such a moment the name of God springs to the psalmist's
lips, but significantly it is not the name found in the other two
parts of the psalm. There He is invoked as "Jehovah," here as "God."
The variation is not merely rhetorical, but the name which connotes
power is appropriate in a prayer for deliverance from peril so
extreme. "Magnify [or make wonderful] Thy loving-kindnesses" is a
petition containing at once a glimpse of the psalmist's danger, for
escape from which nothing short of a wonder of power will avail, and
an appeal to God's delight in magnifying His name by the display of
His mercy. The prayer sounds arrogant, as if the petitioner thought
himself important enough to have miracles wrought for him; but it is
really most humble, for the very wonder of the loving-kindness
besought is that it should be exercised for such a one. God wins
honour by saving a poor man who cries to Him; and it is with deep
insight into the heart of God that this man presents himself as
offering an occasion, in which God must delight, to flash the glory of
His loving power before dull eyes. The petitions grow in boldness as
they go on, and culminate in two which occur in similar contiguity in
the great Song of Moses in Deut. xxxii.: "Keep me as the pupil of Thy
eye." What closeness of union with God that lovely figure implies, and
what sedulous guardianship it implores! "In the shadow of Thy wings
hide me." What tenderness of fostering protection that ascribes to
God, and what warmth and security it asks for man! The combination and
order of these two petitions may teach us that, if we are to be
"kept," we must be hidden; that if these frail lives of ours are to be
dear to God as the apple of His eye, they must be passed nestling
close by His side. Deep, secret communion with Him is the condition of
His protection of us, as another psalm, using the same image, has it:
"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide
under the shadow of the Almighty."

The aspects of the Divine character, which the psalmist employs to move
God's heart and to encourage his own, are contained first in the name
"God," and next in the reference to His habitual dealings with trusting
souls, in ver 7. From of old it has been His way to be the Saviour of
such as take refuge in Him from their enemies, and His right hand has
shielded them. That past is a prophecy which the psalmist grasps in
faith. He has in view instances enough to warrant an induction
absolutely certain. He knows the law of the Divine dealings, and is sure
that anything may happen rather than that it shall fail. Was he wrong in
thus characterising God? Much in his experience and in ours looks as if
he were; but they who most truly understand what help or salvation truly
is will most joyously dwell in the sunny clearness of this confidence,
which will not be clouded for them, though their own and others' trust
is not answered by what sense calls deliverance.

The eye which steadily looks on God can look calmly at dangers. It is
with no failure of faith that the poet's thoughts turn to his enemies.
Fears that have become prayers are already more than half conquered.
The psalmist would move God to help, not himself to despair, by
recounting his perils. The enemy "spoil" him or lay him waste, the
word used for the ravages of invaders. They are "enemies in
soul"--_i.e._, deadly--or perhaps "against [my] soul" or life. They
are pitiless and proud, closing their hearts, which prosperity has
made "fat" or arrogant, against the entrance of compassion, and
indulging in gasconading boasts of their own power and contemptuous
scoffs at his weakness. They ring him round, watching his steps. The
text has a sudden change here from singular to plural, and back again
to singular, reading "_our_ steps," and "They have compassed _me_,"
which the Hebrew margin alters to "us." The wavering between the
singular and plural is accounted for by the upholders of the Davidic
authorship by a reference to him and his followers, and by the
advocates of the theory that the speaker is the personified Israel by
supposing that the mask falls for a moment, and the "me," which always
means "us," gives place to the collective. Ver. 11 _b_ is ambiguous in
consequence of the absence of an object to the second verb. To "set
the eyes" is to watch fixedly and eagerly; and the purpose of the gaze
is in the next clause stated by an infinitive with a preposition, not
by a participle, as in the A.V. The verb is sometimes transitive and
sometimes intransitive, but the former is the better meaning here, and
the omitted object is most naturally "us" or "me." The sense, then,
will be that the enemies eagerly watch for an opportunity to cast down
the psalmist, so as to lay him low on the earth. The intransitive
meaning "to bow down" is taken by some commentators. If that is
adopted (as it is by Hupfeld and others), the reference is to "our
steps" in the previous clause, and the sense of the whole is that
eager eyes watch for these "bowing to the ground," that is stumbling.
But such a rendering is harsh, since steps are always on the ground.
Baethgen ("Handcommentar"), on the strength of Num. xxi. 22, the only
place where the verb occurs with the same preposition as here, and
which he takes as meaning "to turn aside to field or vineyard--_i.e._,
to plunder them"--would translate, "They direct their eyes to burst
into the land," and supposes the reference to be to some impending
invasion. A similar variation in number to that in ver. 11 occurs in
ver. 12, where the enemies are concentrated into one. The allusion is
supposed to be to some one conspicuous leader--_e.g._, Saul--but
probably the change is merely an illustration of the carelessness as
to such grammatical accuracy characteristic of emotional Hebrew
poetry. The familiar metaphor of the lurking lion may have been led up
to in the poet's imagination by the preceding picture of the steadfast
gaze of the enemy, like the glare of the green eyeballs flashing from
the covert of a jungle.

The third part (vv. 13-15) renews the cry for deliverance, and unites
the points of view of the preceding parts in inverted order,
describing first the enemies and then the psalmist, but with these
significant differences, the fruits of his communion with God, that
now the former are painted, not in their fierceness, but in their
transitory attachments and low delights, and that the latter does not
bemoan his own helplessness nor build on his own integrity, but feeds
his soul on his confidence of the vision of God and the satisfaction
which it will bring. The smoke clouds that rolled in the former parts
have caught fire, and one clear shoot of flame aspires heavenward. He
who makes his needs known to God gains for immediate answer "the peace
of God, which passeth understanding," and can wait God's time for the
rest. The crouching lion is still ready to spring; but the psalmist
hides himself behind God, whom he asks to face the brute and make him
grovel at his feet ("Make him bow down," the same word used for a lion
couchant in Gen. xlix. 9 and Num. xxiv. 9). The rendering of ver. 13
_b_, "the wicked, who is Thy sword," introduces an irrelevant thought;
and it is better to regard the sword as God's weapon that slays the
crouching wild beast. The excessive length of ver. 14 and the entirely
pleonastic "from men (by) Thy hand, O Lord," suggest textual
corruption. The thought runs more smoothly, though not altogether
clearly, if these words are omitted. There remains a penetrating
characterisation of the enemy in the sensuous limitations and mistaken
aims of his godless being, which may be satiated with low delights,
but never satisfied, and has to leave them all at last. He is no
longer dreaded, but pitied. His prayer has cleared the psalmist's eyes
and lifted him high enough to see his foes as they are. They are "men
of the world," belonging, by the set of their lives, to a transitory
order of things--an anticipation of New Testament language about "the
children of this world." "Their portion is in [this] life," while the
psalmist's is God (xvi. 5). They have chosen to have their good things
in their lifetime. Hopes, desires, aims, tastes, are all confined
within the narrow bounds of time and sense, than which there can be no
greater folly. Such limitation will often seem to succeed, for low
aims are easily reached; and God sometimes lets men have their fill of
the goods at which their perverted choice clutches. But even so the
choice is madness and misery, for the man, gorged with worldly good,
has yet to leave it, however unwilling to loosen his hold. He cannot
use his goods; and it is no comfort to him, sent away naked into
darkness of death, that his descendants revel in what was his.

How different the contrasted conditions of the hunted psalmist and his
enemies look when the light of such thoughts streams on them! The
helpless victim towers above his persecutors, for his desires go up to
Him who abides and saturates with His blessed fulness the heart that
aspires to Him. Terrors vanish; foes are forgotten; every other wish
is swallowed up in one, which is a confidence as well as a desire. The
psalmist neither grudges, nor is perplexed by, the prosperity of the
wicked. The mysteries of men's earthly lot puzzle those who stand at a
lower elevation; but they do not disturb the soul on these supreme
heights of mystic devotion, where God is seen to be the only good, and
the hungry heart is filled with Him. Assuredly the psalmist's closing
expectation embodies the one contrast worth notice: that between the
present gross and partial satisfactions of sense-bound lives and the
calm, permanent, full delights of communion with God. But does he
limit his hopes to such "hours of high communion with the living God"
as may be ours, even while the foe rings us round and earth holds us
down? Possibly so, but it is difficult to find a worthy meaning for
"when I awake" unless it be from the sleep of death. Possibly, too,
the allusion to the men of the world as "leaving their substance"
makes the reference to a future beatific vision more likely. Death is
to them the stripping off of their chosen portion; it is to him whose
portion is God the fuller possession of all that he loves and desires.
Cheyne ("Orig. of Psalt.," p. 407) regards the "awaking" as that from
the "sleep" of the intermediate state by "the passing of the soul into
a resurrection body." He is led to the recognition of the doctrine of
the resurrection here by his theory of the late date of the psalm and
the influence of Zoroastrianism on it. But it is not necessary to
suppose an allusion to the resurrection. Rather the psalmist's
confidence is the offspring of his profound consciousness of present
communion, and we see here the very process by which a devout man, in
the absence of a clear revelation of the future, reached up to a
conclusion to which he was led by his experience of the inmost reality
of friendship with God. The impotence of death on the relation of the
devout soul to God is a postulate of faith, whether formulated as an
article of faith or not. Probably the psalmist had no clear conception
of a future life; but certainly he had a distinct assurance of it,
because he felt that the very "sweetness" of present fellowship with
God "yielded proof that it was born for immortality."




                              PSALM XVIII.

   1  Heartily do I love Thee, Jehovah, my strength!
   2  Jehovah, my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
      My God, my rock in whom I take refuge,
      My shield and the horn of my salvation and my high tower!
   3  I call upon Him who is to be praised, Jehovah;
      And from mine enemies am I saved.

   4  The breakers of death ringed me round,
      And streams of destruction terrified me.
   5  The cords of Sheol encircled me;
      The snares of death fronted me.
   6  In my distress I called on Jehovah,
      And to my God I loudly cried;
      He heard my voice from His palace-temple,
      And my loud crying before Him entered His ears.

   7  Then the earth rocked and reeled,
      And the foundations of the mountains quivered
      And rocked again, for He was wroth.
   8  Smoke went up in His nostrils,
      And fire from His mouth devoured;
      Brands came blazing from Him.
   9  And He bowed the heavens and came down,
      And cloud gloom [was] below His feet.
  10  And He rode upon the cherub and flew,
      And came swooping on the wings of the wind.
  11  He made darkness His covert, His tent round about Him,
      Darkness of waters and cloud masses of the skies.
  12  From the brightness before Him there passed through His
            cloud-masses
      Hail and brands of fire.
  13  And Jehovah thundered in the heavens,
      And the Most High gave forth His voice.
  14  And He sent forth His arrows and scattered them,
      And lightnings many, and flung them into panic.
  15  And the beds of the waters were seen,
      And the foundations of the earth bared,
      At Thy rebuke, Jehovah,
      At the blast of the breath of Thy nostrils.

  16  He stretched from on high: He took me;
      He drew me from many waters.
  17  He rescued me from my strong enemy
      And from my haters, because they were too mighty for me.
  18  They fell on me in the day of my calamity,
      But Jehovah became as a staff to me.
  19  And He brought me out into a wide place;
      He delivered me, because He delighted in me.

  20  Jehovah treated me according to my righteousness;
      According to the cleanness of my hands He returned [recompense]
            to me.
  21  For I kept the ways of Jehovah,
      And did not part myself by sin from my God.
  22  For all His judgments were before me,
      And His statutes did I not put away from me.
  23  And I was without fault with Him,
      And I kept myself from my iniquity.
  24  Therefore Jehovah returned [recompense] to me according to my
            righteousness,
      According to the cleanness of my hands before His eyes.

  25  With the gracious man Thou showest Thyself gracious;
      With the faultless man Thou showest Thyself faultless.
  26  With him who purifies himself Thou showest Thyself pure,
      And with the perverse Thou showest Thyself froward.
  27  For Thou savest humbled people,
      And eyes uplifted Thou dost bring low.

  28  For Thou lightest my lamp;
      Jehovah my God brightens my darkness.
  29  For by Thee I run down a troop,
      And through my God I spring over a rampart.
  30  As for God, His way is faultless;
      The word of Jehovah is tried (as by fire):
      A shield is He to all who take refuge in Him.
  31  For who is God but Jehovah,
      And who is a rock besides our God?
  32  [It is] God who girded me with strength,
      And made my way faultless;
  33  Who made my feet like hinds' [feet],
      And made me stand upon my high places;
  34  Who schooled my hands for war,
      So that my arms bend a bow of brass.

  35  And Thou didst give me the shield of Thy salvation,
      And Thy right hand upheld me,
      And Thy humility made me great.
  36  Thou didst broaden under me [a path for] my step,
      And my ankles did not give.

  37  I pursued my enemies, and overtook them;
      And I did not turn till I had consumed them.
  38  I shattered them, and they could not rise;
      They fell beneath my feet.
  39  And Thou girdedst me with might for battle;
      Thou didst bring my assailants to their knees under me.
  40  And my enemies Thou madest to turn their backs to me,
      And my haters--I annihilated them.

  41  They shrieked, and there was no helper,
      To Jehovah, and He answered them not.
  42  I pounded them like dust before the wind;
      Like street mud I emptied them out.

  43  Thou didst deliver me from the strifes of the people;
      Thou didst set me for a head of the nations;
      A people whom I knew not served me.
  44  At the hearing of the ear they made themselves obedient to me;
      The children of the foreigner came feigning to me.
  45  The children of the foreigner faded away,
      And came trembling from their strongholds.

  46  Jehovah lives, and blessed be my rock;
      And exalted be the God of my salvation,
  47  The God who gave me revenges
      And subdued peoples under me,
  48  My deliverer from my enemies:
      Yea, from my assailants Thou didst set me on high,
      From the man of violence didst Thou rescue me.

  49  Therefore will I give Thee thanks among the nations, Jehovah;
      And to Thy name will I sing praise.
  50  He magnifies salvations for His king,
      And works loving-kindness for His anointed,
      For David and for his seed for evermore.


The description of the theophany (vv. 7-19) and that of the psalmist's
God-won victories (vv. 32-46) appear to refer to the same facts,
transfigured in the former case by devout imagination and presented in
the latter in their actual form. These two portions make the two central
masses round which the psalm is built up. They are connected by a
transitional section, of which the main theme is the power of character
to determine God's aspect to a man as exemplified in the singer's
experience; and they are preceded and followed by an introduction and a
conclusion, throbbing with gratitude and love to Jehovah, the Deliverer.

The Davidic authorship of this psalm has been admitted even by critics
who are slow to recognise it. Cheyne asks, as if sure of a negative
answer, "What is there in it that suggests the history of David?"
("Orig. of the Psalter," p. 205). Baethgen, who "suspects" that a
Davidic psalm has been "worked over" for use in public worship, may
answer the question: "The following points speak for the Davidic
authorship. The poet is a military commander and king, who wages
successful wars, and subdues peoples whom he hitherto did not know.
There is no Israelite king to whom the expressions in question in the
psalm apply so closely as is the case with David." To these points may
be added the allusions to earlier trials and perils, and the distinct
correspondence, in a certain warmth and inwardness of personal relation
to Jehovah, with the other psalms attributed to David, as well as the
pregnant use of the word _to flee to a refuge_, applied to the soul's
flight to God, which we find here (ver. 2) and in the psalms ascribed to
him. If the clear notes of the psalm be the voice of personal
experience, there is but one author possible--namely, David--and the
glow and intensity of the whole make the personification theory
singularly inadequate. It is much easier to believe that David used the
word "temple" or "palace" for Jehovah's heavenly dwelling, than that the
"I" of the psalm, with his clinging sense of possession in Jehovah, his
vivid remembrance of sorrows, his protestations of integrity, his wonder
at his own victories, and his triumphant praise, is not a man, but a
frosty personification of the nation.

The preluding invocation in vv. 1-3 at once touches the high-water mark
of Old Testament devotion, and is conspicuous among its noblest
utterances. Nowhere else in Scripture is the form of the word employed
which is here used for "love." It has special depth and tenderness. How
far into the centre this man had penetrated, who could thus isolate and
unite Jehovah and himself, and could feel that they two were alone and
knit together by love! The true estimate of Jehovah's ways with a man
will always lead to that resolve to love, based on the consciousness of
God's love to him. Happy they who learn that lesson by retrospect;
happier still if they gather it from their sorrows while these press!
Love delights in addressing the beloved and heaping tender names on its
object, each made more tender and blessed by that appropriating "my." It
seems more accordant with the fervent tone of the psalm to regard the
reiterated designations in ver. 2 as vocatives, than to take "Jehovah"
and "God" as subjects and the other names as predicates. Rather the
whole is one long, loving accumulation of dear names, a series of
invocations, in which the restful heart murmurs to itself how rich it is
and is never wearied of saying, "my delight and defence." As in Psalm
xvii., the name of Jehovah occurs twice, and that of God once. Each of
these is expanded, as it were, by the following epithets, and the
expansion becomes more extended as it advances, beginning with one
member in ver. 1, having three in ver. 2 _a_ and four in ver. 2 _b_.
Leaving out the Divine names proper, there are seven in ver. 2,
separated into two groups by the name of God. It may be observed there
is a general correspondence between the two sets, each beginning with
"rock" (though the word is different in the two clauses), each having
the metaphor of a fortress, and "shield and horn of salvation," roughly
answering to "Deliverer." The first word for _rock_ is more properly
_crag_ or _cliff_, thus suggesting inaccessibility, and the second a
_rock mass_, thus giving the notion of firmness or solidity. The shade
of difference need not be pressed, but the general idea is that of
safety, or by elevation above the enemy and by reason of the
unchangeable strength of Jehovah. In that lofty eyrie, a man may look
down on all the armies of earth, idly active on the plain. That great
Rock towers unchangeable above fleeting things. The river at its base
runs past, the woods nestling at its feet bud and shed their leaves, but
it stands the same. David had many a time found shelter among the hills
and caves of Judah and the South land, and it may not be fancy that sees
reminiscences of these experiences in his song. The beautiful figure for
trust embodied in the word in 2 _b_ belongs to the metaphor of the rock.
It is found with singular appropriateness in Psalm lvii., which the
title ascribes to David "in the cave," the sides of which bent above
him and sheltered him, like a great pair of wings, and possibly
suggested the image, "In the shadow of Thy wings will I take refuge."
The difference between "fortress" and "high tower" is slight, but the
former gives more prominence to the idea of strength, and the latter to
that of elevation, both concurring in the same thought as was expressed
by "rock," but with the additional suggestion of Jehovah as the home of
the soul. Safety, then, comes through communion. Abiding in God is
seclusion from danger. "Deliverer" stands last in the first set, saying
in plain words what the preceding had put in figures. "My shield and the
horn of my salvation" come in the centre of the second set, in obedience
to the law of variety in reiteration which the poet's artistic instincts
impose. They shift the figure to that of a warrior in actual conflict.
The others picture a fugitive from enemies, these a fighter. The shield
is a defensive weapon; horns are offensive ones, and the combination
suggests that in conflict we are safe by the interposition of God's
covering power, and are armed by the same power for striking at the foe.
That power ensures salvation, whether in the narrower or wider sense.
Thus Jehovah is all the armour and all the refuge of His servant. To
trust Him is to have His protection cast around and His power infused
for conflict and victory. The end of all life's experience is to reveal
Him in these characters, and they have rightly learned its lessons whose
song of retrospect begins with "I will love Thee, Jehovah," and pours
out at His feet all happy names expressive of His sufficiency and of the
singer's rest in possessing Him. Ver. 3 is not a resolution for the
future--"I will call; ... so shall I be saved"--but the summing up of
experience in a great truth: "I call, ... and I am saved." It unfolds
the meaning of the previous names of God, and strikes the key-note for
the magnificent sequel.

The superb idealisation of past deliverances under the figure of a
theophany is prepared for by a retrospect of dangers, which still
palpitates with the memory of former fears. "A sorrow's crown of
sorrow is remembering happier things," and a joy's crown of joy is
remembering past perils. No better description of David's early life
could have been given than that contained in the two vivid figures of
vv. 4 and 5. If we adopt the more congruous reading of the other
recension of the psalm in 2 Sam. xxii., we have in both members of
ver. 4 a parallel metaphor. Instead of "sorrows" or "cords" (both of
which renderings are possible for the text of the psalm here), it
reads "breakers," corresponding with "floods" in the second clause.
"Destruction" is better than _ungodly men_ as the rendering of the
unusual word "Belial." Thus the psalmist pictures himself as standing
on a diminishing bit of solid ground, round which a rising flood runs
strong, breaking on its crumbling narrowness. Islanded thus, he is all
but lost. With swift transition he casts the picture of his distress
into another metaphor. Now he is a hunted creature, surrounded and
confronted by cords and snares. Sheol and Death have marked him for
their prey, and are drawing their nets round him. What is left for
him? One thing only. He has a voice, and he has a God. In his despair
one piercing cry breaks from him; and, wonder of wonders, that thin
shoot of prayer rises right into the heavenly palace-temple and the
ears of God. The repetition of "I called upon the Lord" connects this
with ver. 3 as the experience on which the generalisation there is
based. His extremity of peril had not paralysed the psalmist's grasp
of God as still "my God," and his confidence is vindicated. There is
an eloquent contrast between the insignificance of the cause and the
stupendous grandeur of the effect: one poor man's shrill cry and a
shaking earth and all the dread pomp attending an interposing God. A
cupful of water poured into a hydraulic ram sets in motion power that
lifts tons; the prayer of faith brings the dread magnificence of
Jehovah into the field. The reading of 2 Samuel is preferable in the
last clause of ver. 6, omitting the superfluous "before Him."

The phenomena of a thunderstorm are the substratum of the grand
description of Jehovah's delivering self-manifestation. The garb is
lofty poetry; but a definite fact lies beneath, namely some
deliverance in which the psalmist saw Jehovah's coming in storm and
lightning flash to destroy, and therefore to save. Faith sees more
truly because more deeply than sense. What would have appeared to an
ordinary looker-on as merely a remarkable escape was to its subject
the manifestation of a present God. Which eye sees the "things that
are,"--that which is cognisant only of a concatenation of events, or
that which discerns a Person directing these? The cry of this hunted
man has for first effect the kindling of the Divine "wrath," which is
represented as flaming into action in the tremendous imagery of vv. 7
and 8. The description of the storm in which God comes to help the
suppliant does not begin with these verses, as is commonly understood.
The Divine power is not in motion yet, but is, as it were, gathering
itself up for action. The complaining prayer is boldly treated as
bringing to God's knowledge His servant's straits, and the knowledge
as moving Him to wrath towards the enemies of one who takes shelter
beneath His wings. "What have I here that my"--servant is thus
bestead? saith the Lord. The poet can venture to paint a picture with
the pen, which the painter dare not attempt with the pencil. The anger
of Jehovah is described in words of singular daring, as rising like
smoke from His nostrils and pouring in fire from His lips, from which
blazing brands issue. No wonder that the earth reels even to the roots
of the mountains, as unable to endure that wrath! The frank
anthropomorphism of the picture, of which the features are taken from
the hard breathing of an angry man or animal (compare Job's crocodile
in Job xli. 10-13), and the underlying conception are equally
offensive to many; but as for the former, the more "gross" the
humanising of the picture, the less likely is it to be mistaken for
prose fact, and the more easy to apprehend as symbol: and as for the
latter, the New Testament endorses the conception of the "wrath of
God," and bids us take heed lest, if we cast it away, we maim His
love. This same psalm hymns Jehovah's "gentleness"; and the more
deeply His love is apprehended, the more surely will His wrath be
discerned as its necessary accompaniment. The dark orb and its radiant
sister move round a common centre.

Thus kindled, God's wrath flashes into action, as is wonderfully
painted in that great storm piece in vv. 9-15. The stages of a violent
thunder tempest are painted with unsurpassable force and brevity.

First we see the low clouds: far nearer the trembling earth than the
hidden blue was, and seeming to press down with leaden weight, their
boding blackness is above us; but

          "Whose foot shall we see emerge,
           Whose from the straining topmost dark?"

Their low gathering is followed by the sudden rush of wind, which
breaks the awful calm. In its "sound," the psalmist hears the
winnowing of mighty wings: those of the cherub on whom, as a living
chariot, Jehovah sits throned. This is called "mythology." Is it not
rather a poetic personification of elemental powers, which gives
emphasis to their being God's instruments? The cherubim are in
Scripture represented in varying forms and with different attributes.
In Ezekiel they assume a composite form, due apparently to Babylonian
influences; but here there is no trace of that, and the absence of
such strongly supports a pre-exilic date.

Blacker grows the gloom, in which awed hearts are conscious of a present
Deity shrouded behind the livid folds of the thunder-clouds, as in a
tent. Down rushes the rain; the darkness is "a darkness of waters," and
also "thick clouds of the skies," or "cloud masses," a mingled chaos of
rain and cloud. Then lightning tears a way through the blackness, and
the language becomes abrupt, like the flash. In vv. 12 and 13 the fury
of the storm rages. Blinding brightness and deafening thunder-claps
gleam and rattle through the broken words. Probably ver. 12 should be
rendered, "From the brightness before Him there came through His clouds
hail and brands of fire." Hidden in the cloudy tent is the light of
Jehovah's presence, sparkles from which, flung forth by Him, pierce the
solid gloom; and men call them lightnings. Then thunder rolls, the voice
of the Most High. The repetition in ver. 13 of "hail and brands of fire"
gives much abrupt force, and one is unwilling to part with it. The
reason for omitting it from the text is the want of grammatical
connection, but that is rather a reason for retaining it, as the
isolated clause breaks in on the continuity of the sentence, just as
the flash shoots suddenly out of the cloud. These lightnings are God's
arrows; and, as they are showered down in flights, the psalmist's
enemies, unnamed since ver. 3, scatter in panic. The ideal character of
the whole representation is plain from the last element in it--the
description in ver. 15 of laying bare the sea's depths, as the waters
were parted at the Exodus. That voice and the fierce blast from these
fire-breathing nostrils have dried the streams, and the oozy bed is
seen. God's "rebuke" has power to produce physical changes. The
earthquake at the beginning and the empty ocean bed at the end are both
somewhat outside the picture of the storm, and complete the
representation of all nature as moved by the theophany.

Then comes the purpose of all the dread magnificence, strangely small
except to the psalmist. Heaven and earth have been shaken, and
lightnings set leaping through the sky, for nothing greater than to
drag one half-drowned man from the floods. But the result of the
theophany is small only in the same fashion as its cause was small.
This same poor man cried, and the cry set Jehovah's activity in
motion. The deliverance of a single soul may seem a small thing, but
if the single soul has prayed it is no longer small, for God's good
name is involved. A nation is disgraced if its meanest subject is left
to die in the hands of foreign enemies, and blood and treasure are not
wasted if poured out lavishly for his rescue. God cannot let a
suppliant who has taken shelter in His tent be dragged thence.
Therefore there is no disproportion between the theophany and the
individual deliverance which is its sole result.

The psalmist lays aside the figure in vv. 17, 18, and comes to the
bare fact of his deliverance from enemies, and perhaps from one
especially formidable ("my enemy," ver. 17). The prose of the whole
would have been that he was in great danger and without means of
averting it, but had a hair-breadth escape. But the outside of a fact
is not all of it; and in this mystical life of ours poetry gets nearer
the heart of things than does prose, and religion nearer than either.
It is no miracle, in the narrow meaning of that word, which the
psalmist sings; but his eye has seen the unseen force which moves all
visible events. We may see the same apocalypse of a present Jehovah,
if our eyes are purged, and our hearts pure. It is always true that
the cry of a trustful soul pierces heaven and moves God; it is always
true that He comes to His servant sinking and crying, "Lord, save me;
I perish." The scene on the Galilean lake when Christ's strong grasp
held Peter up, because his fear struck out a spark of faith, though
his faith was darkened with fear, is ever being repeated.

The note slightly touched at the close of the description of the
deliverance dominates the second part of the psalm (vv. 20-31), of
which the main theme is the correspondence of God's dealings with
character, as illustrated in the singer's experience, and thence
generalised into a law of the Divine administration. It begins with
startling protestations of innocence. These are rounded into a whole
by the repetition, at the beginning and end, of the same statement
that God dealt with the psalmist according to his righteousness and
clean-handedness. If the author is David, this voice of a good
conscience must have been uttered before his great fall, after which
he could, indeed, sing of forgiveness and restoring grace, but never
again of integrity. Unlike as the tone of these verses is to that
deeper consciousness of sin which is not the least of Christ's gifts,
the truth which they embody is as much a part of the Christian as of
the earlier revelation. True, penitence must now mingle with conscious
rectitude more abundantly than it does in this psalm; but it is still
and for ever true that God deals with His servants according to their
righteousness. Cherished sin separates from Him, and forces His love
to leave cries for help many times unanswered, in order that, filled
with the fruit of their doings, His people may have a wholesome fear
of again straying from the narrow way. Unless a Christian can say, "I
keep myself from mine iniquity," he has no right to look for the
sunshine of God's face to gladden his eyes, nor for the strength of
God's hand to pluck his feet from the net. In noble and daring words,
the psalmist proclaims as a law of God's dealings his own experience
generalised (vv. 25-27). It is a bold reversal of the ordinary point
of view to regard man as taking the initiative and God as following
his lead. And yet is not life full of solemn facts confirmatory of the
truth that God is to a man what the man is to God? That is so, both
subjectively and objectively. Subjectively our conceptions of God vary
with our moral nature, and objectively the dealings of God are moulded
according to that nature. There is such a thing as colour blindness in
regard to the Divine character, whereby some men cannot see the green
of faithful love or the red of wrath, but each beholds that in God
which his vision fits him to see; and the many-sided dealings of God
are different in their incidence upon different characters, so that
the same heat melts wax and hardens clay; and further the actual
dealings are accurately adapted to the state of their objects, so
that each gets what he needs most: the loving heart, sweet love tokens
from the Divine Lover; the perverse, thwartings which come from a God
"contrary" to them who are contrary to Him. "The history of the world
is the judgment of the world." But the first of the designations of
character in ver. 25 hints that before man's initiative had been
God's; for "merciful" is the pregnant word occurring so often in the
Psalter, and so impossible to translate by any one word. It means, as
we have already had occasion to point out, one who is the subject of
the Divine loving-kindness, and who therefore loves God in return.
Here it seems rather to be taken in the sense of loving than of
beloved. He who exercises this loving-kindness, whether towards God or
man, shall find in God One who exercises it to him. But the word
itself regards man's loving-kindness towards God as being the echo of
God's, and so the very first step in determining the mutual relations
is God's, and but for it there would never have been that in man which
God could answer by showing Himself as loving. The contrasted dealings
and characters are summed up in the familiar antithesis of ver. 27.
The "afflicted" or humble are the type of God-pleasing character,
since humility, such as befits dependent creatures, is the mother of
all goodness, and "high looks" the master sin, and the whole drift of
Providence is to lift the lowly and abase the proud.

The psalmist's swift thought vibrates throughout this part of the song
between his own experience and the general truths exemplified in it.
He is too full of his own deliverance to be long silent about it, and,
on the other hand, is continually reminded by it of the wide sweep of
the beneficent laws which have been so fruitful of good to him. The
most precious result of individual mercy is the vision obtained
through it of the universal Lover of souls. "My God" will be widened
into "our God," and "our God" will rest upon "my God," if either is
spoken from the heart's depths. So in vv. 27-29 the personal element
comes again to the front. The individualising name "My God" occurs in
each verse, and the deliverance underlying the theophany is described
in terms which prepare for the fuller celebration of victory in the
last part of the psalm. God lights the psalmist's lamp, by which is
meant not the continuance of his family (as the expression elsewhere
means), but the preservation of his own life, with the added idea,
especially in ver. 28 _b_, of prosperity. Ver. 29 tells how the lamp
was kept alight, namely by the singer's victory in actual battle, in
which his swift rush had overtaken the enemy, and his agile limbs had
scaled their walls. The parallelism of the clauses is made more
complete by the emendation adopted by Lagarde, Cheyne, Baethgen, etc.,
who read ver. 29 _a_, "I [can] break down a fence," but this is
unnecessary. The same combination of running and climbing occurs in
Joel ii. 7, and the two clauses of ver. 33 seem to repeat those of
ver. 29. The swift, agile warrior, then, traces these physical powers
to God, as he does more at large in later verses.

Once more, the song passes, in ver. 30, to the wider truths taught by
the personal deliverance. "Our God" takes the place of "my God"; and
"all who take refuge in Him" are discerned as gathering, a shadowy
crowd, round the solitary psalmist, and as sharing in his blessings.
The large truths of these verses are the precious fruit of distress
and deliverance. Both have cleared the singer's eyes to see, and
tuned his lips to sing, a God whose doings are without a flaw, whose
word is like pure gold without alloy or falsehood, whose ample
protection shields all who flee to its shelter, who alone is God, the
fountain of strength, who stands firm for ever, the inexpugnable
defence and dwelling-place of men. This burst of pure adoration echoes
the tones of the glorious beginning of the psalm. Happy they who, as
the result of life's experience, solve "the riddle of this painful
earth," with these firm and jubilant convictions as the very
foundation of their being.

The remainder of the psalm (ver. 32 to end) describes the victorious
campaign of the psalmist and the establishment of his kingdom. There is
difficulty in determining the tenses of the verbs in some verses, and
interpreters vary between pasts and futures. The inclination of the
greater number of recent commentators is to carry the historical
retrospect uninterruptedly through the whole context, which, as Hupfeld
acknowledges, "allerdings das bequemste ist," and those who suppose
occasional futures interspersed (as the R.V. and Hupfeld) differ in the
places of their introduction. "Everything here is retrospective," says
Delitzsch, and certainly that view is simplest and gives unity to the
whole. The name of God is never mentioned in the entire section, except
as vainly invoked by the flying foe. Not till the closing doxologies
does it appear again, with the frequency which marks the middle part of
the psalm. A similar sparse use of it characterises the description of
the theophany. In both cases there is a peculiar force given by the
stream of verbs without expressed nominatives. The hurrying clauses here
vividly reproduce the haste of battle, and each falls like the blow of a
battle mace wielded by a strong arm. The equipment of the king for the
fight (vv. 32-36), the fierce assault, flight of the foe and their utter
annihilation (vv. 37-42), the extension by conquest of the singer's
kingdom (vv. 43, 44), successively pass before us as we listen to the
panting words with the heat of battle in them; and all rises at last
into exuberant praise, which re-echoes some strains of the introductory
burst of thanksgiving.

Many mythologies have told how the gods arm their champions, but the
psalmist reaches a loftier height than these. He ventures to think of
God as doing the humble office of bracing on his girdle, but the girdle
is itself strength. God, whose own "way is perfect" (ver. 30), makes His
servant's "way" in some measure like His own; and though, no doubt, the
figure must be interpreted in a manner congruous with its context, as
chiefly implying "perfection" in regard to the purpose in hand--namely,
warfare--we need not miss the deeper truth that God's soldiers are
fitted for conflict by their "ways" being conformed to God's. This man's
"strength was as the strength of ten, because his heart was pure."
Strength and swiftness are the two characteristics of antique heroes,
and God's gift bestowed both on the psalmist. Light of foot as a deer
and able to climb to the robber forts perched on crags, as a chamois
would, his hands deft, and his muscular arms strong to bend the bow
which others could not use, he is the ideal of a warrior of old; and all
these natural powers he again ascribes to God's gift. A goddess gave
Achilles his wondrous shield, but what was it to that which God binds
upon this warrior's arm? As his girdle was strength, and not merely a
means of strength, his shield is salvation, and not merely a means of
safety. The fact that God purposes to save and does act for saving is
the defence against all dangers and enemies. It is the same deep truth
as the prophet expresses by making "salvation" the walls and bulwarks of
the strong city where the righteous nation dwells in peace. God does not
thus arm His servant and then send him out alone to fight as he can, but
"Thy right hand holds me up." What assailant can beat him down, if that
hand is under his armpit to support him? The beautiful rendering of the
A.V., "Thy gentleness," scarcely conveys the meaning, and weakens the
antithesis with the psalmist's "greatness," which is brought out by
translating "Thy lowliness," or even more boldly "Thy humility." There
is that in God which answers to the peculiarly human virtue of
lowliness; and unless there were, man would remain small and unclothed
with God-given strength. The devout soul thrills with wonder at God's
stooping love, which it discerns to be the foundation of all His gifts
and therefore of its blessedness. This singer saw deep into the heart of
God, and anticipated the great word of the one Revealer, "I am meek and
lowly in heart." But God's care for him does not merely fit him for the
fight: it also orders circumstances so as to give him a free course.
Having made his "feet like hinds' feet," God then prepares paths that he
should walk in them. The work is only half done when the man is endowed
for service or conflict; a field for his powers must be forthcoming, and
God will take care that no strength given by Him lies idle for want of a
wrestling ground. Sooner or later feet find the road.

Then follow six verses (37-42) full of the stir and tumult of battle.
There is no necessity for the change to futures in the verbs of vv.
37, 38, which the R.V. adopts. The whole is a picture of past
conflict, for which the psalmist had been equipped by God. It is a
literal fight, the triumph of which still glows in the singer's heart
and flames in his vivid words. We see him in swift pursuit, pressing
hard on the enemy, crushing them with his fierce onset, trampling them
under foot. They break and flee, shrieking out prayers, which the
pursuer has a stern joy in knowing to be fruitless. His blows fall
like those of a great pestle, and crush the fleeing wretches, who are
scattered by his irresistible charge, like dust whirled by the storm.
The last clause of the picture of the routed foe is better given by
the various reading in 2 Samuel, which requires only a very slight
alteration in one letter: "I did stamp them as the mire of the
streets." Such delight in the enemy's despair and destruction, such
gratification at hearing their vain cries to Jehovah, are far away
from Christian sentiments; and the gulf is not wholly bridged by the
consideration that the psalmist felt himself to be God's anointed, and
enmity to him to be treason against God. Most natural as his feelings
were, perfectly consistent with the level of religion proper to the
then stage of revelation, capable of being purified into that triumph
in the victory of good and ruin of evil without which there is no
vigorous sympathy with Christ's battle, and kindling as they do by
their splendid energy and condensed rapidity an answering glow in even
readers so far away from their scene as we are, they are still of
"another spirit" from that which Christ has breathed into the Church,
and nothing but confusion and mischief can come of slurring over the
difference. The light of battle which blazes in them is not the fire
which Jesus longed to kindle upon earth.

Thus far the enemies seem to have been native foes rebelling against
God's anointed or, if the reference to the Sauline persecution is held
by, seeking to prevent his reaching his throne. But, in the concluding
verses of this part (43-45), a transition is made to victory over
"strangers," _i.e._ foreign nations. "The strivings of the people" seems
to point back to the war described already, while "Thou hast made me the
head of the nations" refers to external conquests. In 2 Samuel the
reading is "my people," which would bring out the domestic reference
more strongly; but the suffix for "my" may be a defective form of
writing the plural; if so, the peoples in ver. 43 _a_ are the "nations"
of 43 _b_. In any case the royal singer celebrates the extension of his
dominion. The tenses in vv. 44, 45, which the R.V. again gives as
futures (as does Hupfeld), are better regarded, like all the others, as
pasts. The wider dominion is not inconsistent with Davidic origin, as
his conquests were extended beyond the territory of Israel. The picture
of the hasty surrender of the enemy at the very sound of the conqueror's
name is graphic. "They lied unto me," as the words in ver. 44 _b_ are
literally, gives forcibly the feigned submission covering bitter hate.
"They fade away," as if withered by the simoom, the hot blast of the
psalmist's conquering power. "They come trembling [or, as 2 Samuel
reads, come limping] from their strongholds."

Vv. 46 to end make a noble close to a noble hymn, in which the singer's
strong wing never flags nor the rush of thought and feeling slackens.
Even more absolutely than in the rest of the psalm every victory is
ascribed to Jehovah. He alone acts; the psalmist is simply the
recipient. To have learned by life's struggles and deliverances that
Jehovah is a living God and "my Rock" is to have gathered life's best
fruit. A morning of tempest has cleared into sunny calm, as it always
will, if tempest drives to God. He who cries to Jehovah when the floods
of destruction make him afraid will in due time have to set to his seal
that Jehovah liveth. If we begin with "The Lord is my Rock," we shall
end with "Blessed be my Rock." Thankfulness does not weary of
reiterating acknowledgments; and so the psalmist gathers up once more
the main points of the psalm in these closing strains and lays all his
mass of blessings at the feet of the Giver. His deliverance from his
domestic foes and his conquests over external enemies are wholly God's
work, and therefore supply both impulse and material for praises which
shall sound out beyond the limits of Israel. The vow to give thanks
among the nations has been thought fatal to the Davidic origin of the
psalm. Seeing, however, that some foreign peoples were conquered by him,
there was opportunity for its fulfilment. His function to make known the
name of Jehovah was the reason for his victories. David had learned the
purpose of his elevation, and recognised in an extended kingdom a wider
audience for his song. Therefore Paul penetrates to the heart of the
psalm when he quotes ver. 49 in Rom. xv. 9 as a proof that the
evangelising of the Gentiles was an Old Testament hope. The plain lesson
from the psalmist's vow is that God's mercies bind, and if felt aright
will joyfully impel, the receiver to spread His name as far as his voice
can reach. Love is sometimes silent, but gratitude must speak. The most
unmusical voice is tuned to melody by thankfulness, and they need never
want a theme who can tell what the Lord has done for their soul.

The last verse of the psalm is sometimes regarded as a liturgical
addition, and the mention of David gratuitously supposed to be adverse
to his authorship, but there is nothing unnatural in a king's
mentioning himself in such a connection nor in the reference to his
dynasty, which is evidently based upon the promise of perpetual
dominion given through Nathan. The Christian reader knows how much
more wonderful than the singer knew was the mercy granted to the king
in that great promise, fulfilled in the Son of David, whose kingdom is
an everlasting kingdom, and who bears God's name to all the nations.




                               PSALM XIX.

   1  The heavens declare the glory of God,
      And the work of His hands the firmament makes known.
   2  Day to day pours forth speech,
      And night to night shows knowledge.
   3  There is no speech and no words;
      Not heard is their voice.
   4  In all the earth their line goes forth, and in the end of the
            world their words;
      For the sun has He set a tent in them,
   5  And he is like a bridegroom going out from his chamber;
      He rejoices like a hero to run (his) course.
   6  From the end of the heavens is his going forth, and his circuit
            unto their ends;
      And nothing is hid from his heat.

   7  The law of Jehovah is perfect, restoring the soul;
      The testimony of Jehovah is trusty, making wise the simple.
   8  The precepts of Jehovah are right, rejoicing the heart;
      The commandment of Jehovah is pure, enlightening the eyes.
   9  The fear of Jehovah is clean, standing for ever;
      The judgments of Jehovah are truth: they are righteous altogether.
  10  They are more to be desired than gold and than abundant [gold]
            refined,
      And they are sweeter than honey and the droppings of the
            honeycomb.

  11  Moreover, Thy servant is warned by them;
      In keeping them is reward abundant.
  12  Inadvertencies who can discern?
      From hidden sins absolve me.
  13  Also from presumptuous [sins] keep back Thy servant: let them not
            rule over me;
      Then shall I be guiltless, and I shall be absolved from great
            transgression.
  14  Accepted be the words of my mouth and meditation of my heart in
            Thy sight,
      Jehovah, my Rock and my Kinsman-redeemer!


Is this originally one psalm or bits of two, pieced together to suggest
a comparison between the two sources of knowledge of God, which the
authors did not dream of? The affirmative is strongly _main_tained, but,
we may venture to say, not so strongly _sus_tained. The two parts are
said to differ in style, rhythm, and subject. Certainly they do, but the
difference in style accounts for the difference in structure. It is not
an unheard-of phenomenon that cadence should change with theme; and if
the very purpose of the song is to set forth the difference of the two
witnesses to God, nothing can be more likely than such a change in
measure. The two halves are said to be put together abruptly without
anything to smooth the transition. So they are, and so is ver. 4 put by
the side of ver. 3; and so does the last turn of thought (vv. 12-14)
follow the second. Cyclopean architecture without mortar has a certain
impressiveness. The abruptness is rather an argument for than against
the original unity, for a compiler would have been likely to try to make
some sort of glue to hold his two fragments together, while a poet, in
the rush of his afflatus, would welcome the very abruptness which the
manufacturer would avoid. Surely the thought that binds the whole into a
unity--that _Jehovah_ is _El_, and that nature and law witness to the
same Divine Person, though with varying clearness--is not so strange as
that we should have to find its author in some late editor unknown.

Vv. 1-6 hymn the silent declaration by the heavens. The details of
exposition must first be dealt with. "Declare" and "makes known" are
participles, and thus express the continuity of the acts. The
substance of the witness is set forth with distinct reference to its
limitations, for "glory" has here no moral element, but simply means
what Paul calls "eternal power and Godhead," while the Divine name of
God ("El") is used in intended contrast to "Jehovah" in the second
half, a _nuance_ which must be obliterated if this is a conglomerate
psalm. "His handiwork," in like manner, limits the revelation. The
heavens by day are so marvellously unlike the heavens by night that
the psalmist's imagination conjures up two long processions, each
member of which passes on the word entrusted to him to his
successor--the blazing days with heaven naked but for one great light,
and the still nights with all their stars. Ver. 3 has given
commentators much trouble in attempting to smooth its paradox. Tastes
are curiously different, for some critics think that the familiar
interpretation gives a flat, prosaic meaning, while Cheyne takes the
verse to be a gloss for dull readers, and exclaims, "How much the
brilliant psalm fragment gains by its omission!" _De gustibus_, etc.
Some of us may still feel that the psalmist's contrast of the awful
silence in the depths of the sky and of the voice that speaks to
opened ears thrills us with something very like the electric touch of
poetry. In ver. 4 the thought of the great voices returns. "Their
line" is usually explained as meaning their sphere of influence,
marked out, as it were, by a measuring cord. If that rendering is
adopted, ver. 4 _b_ would in effect say, "Their words go as far as
their realm." Or the rendering "sound" may be deduced, though somewhat
precariously, from that of _line_, since a line stretched is musical.
But the word is not used as meaning the string of an instrument, and
the very slight conjectural emendation which gives "voice" instead of
"line" has much to recommend it. In any case the teaching of the verse
is plain from the last clause, namely the universality of the
revelation. It is singular that the mention of the sun should come in
the close of the verse; and there may be some error in the text,
though the introduction of the sun here may be explained as completing
the picture of the heavens, of which it is the crowning glory. Then
follows the fuller delineation of his joyous energy, of his swift
strength in his course, of his penetrating beams, illuminating and
warming all. Why should the glowing metaphors, so natural and
vigorous, of the sun coming forth from his bridal chamber and,
hero-like, running his race, be taken to be traces of ancient myths
now innocently reclaimed from the service of superstition? To find in
these two images a proof that the first part of the psalm belongs to
the post-exilic "literary revival of Hebrew mythology" is surely to
lay more on them than they can bear.

The scientific contemplation of nature is wholly absent from
Scripture, and the picturesque is very rare. This psalmist knew
nothing about solar spectra or stellar distances, but he heard a voice
from out of the else waste heavens which sounded to him as if it named
God. Comte ventured to say that the heavens declare the glory of the
astronomer, not of God; but, if there be an order in them, which it is
a man's glory to discover, must there not be a mind behind the order,
and must not the Maker have more glory than the investigator? The
psalmist is protesting against stellar worship, which some of his
neighbours practised. The sun was a creature, not a god; his "race"
was marked out by the same hand which in depths beyond the visible
heavens had pitched a "tent" for his nightly rest. We smile at the
simple astronomy; the religious depth is as deep as ever. Dull ears do
not hear these voices; but whether they are stopped with the clay of
earthly tastes and occupations, or stuffed with scientific wadding of
the most modern kind, the ears that do not hear God's name sounded
from the abysses above, have failed to hear the only word which can
make man feel at home in nature. Carlyle said that the sky was "a sad
sicht." The sadness and awfulness are taken away when we hear the
heavens telling the glory of God. The unscientific psalmist who did
hear them was nearer the very heart of the mystery than the scientist
who knows everything else about them but that.

With an abrupt transition which is full of poetical force, the singer
turns to the praises of the better revelation of Jehovah. Nature
speaks in eloquent silence of the strong God, but has no witness to
His righteous will for men or His love to them which can compare with
the clear utterances of His law. The rhythm changes, and in its
cadence expresses the psalmist's exuberant delight in that law. In vv.
7-11 the clauses are constructed on a uniform plan, each containing a
name for the law, an attribute of it, and one of its effects. The
abundance of synonyms indicates familiarity and clear views of the
many sides of the subject. The psalmist had often brooded on the
thought of what that law was, because, loving its Giver, he must needs
love the gift. So he calls it "law," or teaching, since there he found
the best lessons for character and life. It was "testimony," for in it
God witnessed what He is and what we should be, and so witnessed
against sin; it was a body of "precepts" (statutes, A.V.) giving rich
variety of directions; it was "commandment," blessedly imperative; it
was "fear of the Lord," the effect being put for the cause; it was
"judgments," the decisions of infinite truth concerning duty.

These synonyms have each an attribute attached, which, together, give
a grand aggregate of qualities discerned by a devout heart to inhere
in that law which is to so many but a restraint and a foe. It is
"perfect," as containing without flaw or defect the ideal of conduct;
"sure" or reliable, as worthy of being absolutely followed and certain
to be completely fulfilled; "right," as prescribing the straight road
to man's true goal; "pure" or bright, as being light like the sun, but
of a higher quality than that material brilliance; "clean," as
contrasted with the foulness bedaubing false faiths and making idol
worship unutterably loathsome; "true" and "wholly righteous," as
corresponding accurately to the mind of Jehovah and the facts of
humanity and as being in full accordance with the justice which has
its seat in the bosom of God.

The effects are summed up in the latter clauses of these verses, which
stand, as it were, a little apart, and by the slight pause are made more
emphatic. The rhythm rises and falls like the upspringing and sinking of
a fountain. The law "restores the soul," or rather refreshes the life,
as food does; it "makes the simple wise" by its sure testimony, giving
practical guidance to narrow understandings and wills open to easy
beguiling by sin; it "rejoices the heart," since there is no gladness
equal to that of knowing and doing the will of God; it "enlightens the
eyes" with brightness beyond that of the created light which rules the
day. Then the relation of clauses changes slightly in ver. 9, and a
second attribute takes the place of the effect. It "endures for ever,"
and, as we have seen, is "wholly righteous." The Old Testament law was
relatively imperfect and destined to be done away, but the moral core of
it abides. Being more valuable than all other treasures, there is wealth
in the very desire after it more than in possessing these. Loved, it
yields sweetness in comparison with which the delights of sense are
bitter; done, it automatically rewards the doer. If obedience had no
results except its inward consequences, it would be abundantly repaid.
Every true servant of Jehovah will be willing to be warned by that
voice, even though it rebuke and threaten.

All this rapture of delight in the law contrasts with the impatience
and dislike which some men entertain for it. To the disobedient that
law spoils their coarse gratifications. It is as a prison in which
life is wearisomely barred from delights; but they who dwell behind
its fences know that these keep evils off, and that within are calm
joys and pure pleasures.

The contemplation of the law cannot but lead to self-examination, and
that to petition. So the psalmist passes into prayer. His shortcomings
appal, for "by the law is the knowledge of sin," and he feels that
beyond the sin which he knows, there is a dark region in him where foul
things nestle and breed fast. "Secret faults" are those hidden, not from
men, but from himself. He discovers that he has hitherto undiscovered
sins. Lurking evils are most dangerous because, like aphides on the
under-side of a rose leaf, they multiply so quickly unobserved; small
deeds make up life, and small, unnoticed sins darken the soul. Mud in
water, at the rate of a grain to a glassful, will make a lake opaque.
"Happy is he that condemneth not himself in that thing which he
alloweth." Conscience needs educating; and we have to compare ourselves
with the ideal of perfect life in Jesus, if we would know our faults,
as young artists go over their copies in front of the masterpiece. But
the psalmist knows that, servant of God though he is, he is in danger
from another class of sins, and so prays to be held back from
"presumptuous sins," _i.e._ wilful conscious transgressions. Such
deliberate contraventions of law tend to become habitual and despotic;
so the prayer follows that they may not "have dominion." But even that
is not the lowest depth. Deliberate sin, which has gained the upper
hand, is but too apt to end in apostacy. "Great transgression" is
probably a designation for casting off the very pretence of worshipping
Jehovah. That is the story of many a fall. First, some unsuspected evil
habit gnaws away the substance of the life, as white ants do wood,
leaving the shell apparently intact; then come sins open and palpable,
and these enslave the will, becoming habits, and then follows entire
abandonment of the profession of religion. It is a slippery, dark
stairway, and the only safety is in not setting foot on the top step.
God, and God only, can "keep us back." He will, if we cling to Him,
knowing our weakness. Thus clinging, we may unblamed cherish the daring
hope that we shall be "upright and innocent," since nothing less than
entire deliverance from sin in all its forms and issues can correspond
to the will of God concerning us and the power of God in us, nor satisfy
our deepest desires.

The closing aspiration is that Jehovah would accept the song and prayer.
There is an allusion to the acceptance of a sacrifice, for the phrase
"be acceptable" is frequent in connection with the sacrificial ritual.
When the words of the mouth coincide with the meditation of the heart,
we may hope that prayers for cleansing from, and defence against, sin,
offered to Him whom our faith recognises as our "strength" and our
"Redeemer," will be as a sacrifice of a sweet smell, well-pleasing to
God. He best loves the law of Jehovah who lets it teach him his sin, and
send him to his knees; he best appreciates the glories of the silent
heavens who knows that their witness to God is but the prelude of the
deeper music of the Scriptures' declaration of the heart and will of
Jehovah, and who grasps Him as his "strength and his Redeemer" from all
evil, whether evil of sin or evil of sorrow.




                               PSALM XX.

  1  Jehovah answer thee in the day of trouble,
     The name of the God of Jacob set thee on high;
  2  Send thy help from the holy place,
     And from Zion hold thee up;
  3  Remember all thy meal offerings,
     And thy burnt offerings may He find fat; Selah.
  4  Give thee according to thy heart,
     And all thy counsel may He fulfil.

  5  May we exult in thy salvation, and in the name of our God wave our
            standards;
     Jehovah fulfil all thy petitions!

  6  Now I know that Jehovah saves His anointed;
     He will answer him from his Holy heaven, with mighty deeds of the
            salvation of His right hand.

  7  These boast in chariots, and these in horses;
     And we--in the name of Jehovah our God we boast.
  8  They--they are bowed down, and fall;
     And we--we are risen, and stand firm.
  9  Jehovah, save!
     May the King hear us in the day when we call.


This is a battle song, followed by a chant of victory. They are
connected in subject and probably in occasion, but fight and triumph
have fallen dim to us, though we can still feel how hotly the fire
once glowed. The passion of loyalty and love for the king, expressed
in these psalms, fits no reign in Judah so well as the bright noonday
of David's, when "whatever the king did pleased all the people."
Cheyne, indeed, would bring them down to the Maccabean period, and
suggests Simon Maccabaeus as the ruler referred to. He has to put a
little gentle pressure on "king" to contract it to fit the man of his
choice, and appeals to the "good old Semitic sense" of "consul." But
would not an appeal to Hebrew usage have been more satisfactory? If
"king" means "king," great or small, the psalm is not post-exilic, and
the Davidic date will not seem impossible. It does not seem impossible
that a poet-king should have composed a national hymn praying for his
own victory, which was the nation's also.

The psalm has traces of the alternation of chorus and solo. The nation
or army first pours out its united prayer for victory in vv. 1-5, and is
succeeded by a single voice (possibly that of the officiating priest or
the king himself) in ver. 6, expressing confidence that the prayer is
answered, which, again, is followed by the closing chorus of many voices
throbbing with the assurance of victory before a blow is struck, and
sending one more long-drawn cry to God ere battle is joined.

The prayer in vv. 1-5 breathes self-distrust and confidence in
Jehovah, the temper which brings victory, not only to Israel, but to
all fighters for God. Here is no boasting of former victories, nor of
man's bravery and strength, nor of a captain's skill. One name is
invoked. It alone rouses courage and pledges triumph. "The name of the
God of Jacob set thee on high." That name is almost regarded as a
person, as is often the case. Attributes and acts are ascribed to it
which properly belong to the Unnameable whom it names, as if with some
dim inkling that the agent of revealing a person must be a person. The
name is the revealed character, which is contemplated as having
existence in some sense apart from Him whose character it is.
Possibly there is a reference to Gen. xxxv. 3, where Jacob speaks of
"the God who answered me in the day of my distress." That ancient
instance of His power to hear and help may have floated before the
singer's mind as heartening faith for this day of battle. To "set on
high" is a familiar natural figure for deliverance. The earthly
sanctuary is Jehovah's throne; and all real help must come thence, of
which help His dwelling there is a pledge. So in these two verses the
extremity of need, the history of past revelation, and the special
relation of Jehovah to Israel are woven into the people's prayer for
their king. In vv. 3, 4, they add the incense of their intercession to
his sacrifices. The background of the psalm is probably the altar on
which the accustomed offerings before a battle were being presented (1
Sam. xiii. 9). The prayer for acceptance of the burnt offering is very
graphic, since the word rendered "accept" is literally "esteem fat."

One wish moved the sacrificing king and the praying people. Their common
desire was victory, but the people are content to be obscure, and their
loyal love so clings to their monarch and leader that they only wish the
fulfilment of his wishes. This unity of feeling culminates in the
closing petitions in ver. 6, where self-oblivion wishes "May we exult in
thy salvation," arrogating none of the glory of victory to themselves,
but ascribing all to him, and vows "In the name of our God we will wave
our standards," ascribing victory to Him, its ultimate cause. An army
that prays, "Jehovah fulfil all thy petitions," will be ready to obey
all its captain's commands and to move in obedience to his impulse as if
it were part of himself. The enthusiastic community of purpose with its
chief and absolute reliance on Jehovah, with which this prayer throbs,
would go far towards securing victory anywhere. They should find their
highest exemplification in that union between Christ and us in which all
human relationships find theirs, since, in the deepest sense, they are
all Messianic prophecies, and point to Him who is all the good that
other men and women have partially been, and satisfies all the cravings
and necessities which human relationships, however blessed, but
incompletely supply.

The sacrifice has been offered; the choral prayer has gone up. Silence
follows, the worshippers watching the curling smoke as it rises; and
then a single voice breaks out into a burst of glad assurance that
sacrifice and prayer are answered. Who speaks? The most natural answer
is, "The king"; and the fact that he speaks of himself as Jehovah's
anointed in the third person does not present a difficulty. What is the
reference in that "now" at the beginning of ver. 6? May we venture to
suppose that the king's heart swelled at the exhibition of his subjects'
devotion and hailed it as a pledge of victory? The future is brought
into the present by the outstretched hand of faith, for this single
speaker knows that "Jehovah has saved," though no blow has yet been
struck. The prayer had asked for help from Zion; the anticipation of
answer looks higher: to the holier sanctuary, where Jehovah indeed
dwells. The answer now waited for in sure confidence is "the mighty
deeds of salvation of His right hand," some signal forthputting of
Divine power scattering the foe. A whisper may start an avalanche. The
prayer of the people has set Omnipotence in motion. Such assurance that
petitions are heard is wont to spring in the heart that truly prays, and
comes as a forerunner of fulfilment, shedding on the soul the dawn of
the yet unrisen sun. He has but half prayed who does not wait in
silence, watching the flight of his arrow and not content to cease till
the calm certainty that it has reached its aim fills his heart.

Again the many voices take up the song, responding to the confidence
of the single speaker and, like him, treating the victory as already
won. Looking across the field to the masses of the enemy's cavalry and
chariots, forces forbidden to Israel, though employed by them in later
days, the song grandly opposes to these "the name of Jehovah our God."
There is a world of contempt and confidence in the juxtaposition.
Chariots and horses are very terrible, especially to raw soldiers
unaccustomed to their whirling onset; but the Name is mightier, as
Pharaoh and his array proved by the Red Sea. This reference to the
army of Israel as unequipped with cavalry and chariots is in favour of
an early date, since the importation and use of both began as soon as
Solomon's time. The certain issue of the fight is given in ver. 8 in a
picturesque fashion, made more vigorous by the tenses which describe
completed acts. When the brief struggle is over, this is what will be
seen--the enemy prone, Israel risen from subjection and standing firm.
Then comes a closing cry for help, which, according to the traditional
division of the verse, has one very short clause and one long drawn
out, like the blast of the trumpet sounding the charge. The intensity
of appeal is condensed in the former clause into the one word "save"
and the renewed utterance of the name, thrice referred to in this
short psalm as the source at once of strength and confidence. The
latter clause, as in the A.V. and R.V., transfers the title of King
from the earthly shadow to the true Monarch in the heavens, and
thereby suggests yet another plea for help. The other division of the
verse, adopted in the LXX. and by some moderns, equalises the clauses
by transferring "the king" to the former ("O Lord, save the king, and
answer us," etc.). But this involves a violent change from the second
person imperfect in the first clause to the third person imperfect in
the second. It would be intolerably clumsy to say, "Do Thou save; may
He hear," and therefore the LXX. has had recourse to inserting "and"
at the beginning of the second clause, which somewhat breaks the jolt,
but is not in the Hebrew. The text, as it stands, yields a striking
meaning, beautifully suggesting the subordinate office of the earthly
monarch and appealing to the true King to defend His own army and go
forth with it to the battle which is waged for His name. When we are
sure that we are serving Jehovah and fighting for Him, we may be sure
that we go not a warfare at our own charges nor alone.




                               PSALM XXI.

   1  Jehovah, in Thy strength the king rejoices,
      And in Thy salvation how greatly he exults!
   2  The desire of his heart Thou hast given to him,
      And the request of his lips Thou hast not refused.
   3  For Thou meetest him with blessings of good;
      Thou settest on his head a crown of pure gold.
   4  Life he asked from Thee; Thou gavest it to him,
      Length of days for ever and ever.
   5  Great is his glory through Thy salvation;
      Honour and majesty Thou layest upon him.
   6  For Thou dost set him [to be] blessings for ever,
      Dost gladden him in joy with Thy face.
   7  For the king trusts in Jehovah,
      And in the loving-kindness of the Most High he shall not be moved.

   8  Thine hand shall reach towards all thy foes;
      Thy right hand shall reach all thy haters.
   9  Thou shalt make them as a furnace of fire at the time of thine
            appearance (face);
      Jehovah in His wrath shall swallow them up: fire shall devour
            them.
  10  Their fruit shalt thou destroy from the earth,
      And their seed from the sons of men.
  11  For they cause evil to hang over thee;
      They meditate mischief: they will achieve nothing.
  12  For thou shalt make them turn their back,
      On thy bowstrings wilt aim [arrows] at their faces.

  13  Lift Thyself up, Jehovah, in Thy strength;
      We will sing and harp, [praising] Thy might.


This psalm is a pendant to the preceding. There the people prayed for
the king; here they give thanks for him: there they asked that his
desires might be fulfilled; here they bless Jehovah, who has
fulfilled them: there the battle was impending; here it has been won,
though foes are still in the field: there the victory was prayed for;
here it is prophesied. Who is the "king"? The superscription points to
David. Conjecture has referred to Hezekiah, principally because of his
miraculous recovery, which is supposed to be intended in ver. 4.
Cheyne thinks of Simon Maccabaeus, and sees his priestly crown in ver.
3. But there are no individualising features in the royal portrait,
and it is so idealised, or rather spiritualised, that it is hard to
suppose that any single monarch was before the singer's mind. The
remarkable greatness and majesty of the figure will appear as we read.
The whole may be cast into two parts, with a closing strain of prayer.
In the first part (vv. 1-7) the people praise Jehovah for His gifts to
the king; in the second (vv. 8-12) they prophesy to the king complete
victory; in ver. 13 they end, as in xx., with a short petition, which,
however, here is, in accordance with the tone of the whole, more
jubilant than the former and less shrill.

The former psalm had asked for strength to be given to the king; this
begins with thanks for the strength in which the king rejoices. In the
former the people had anticipated triumph in the king's salvation or
victory; here they celebrate his exceeding exultation in it. It was
his, since he was victor, but it was Jehovah's, since He was Giver of
victory. Loyal subjects share in the king's triumph, and connect it
with him; but he himself traces it to God. The extraordinarily lofty
language in which Jehovah's gifts are described in the subsequent
verses has, no doubt, analogies in the Assyrian hymns to which Cheyne
refers; but the abject reverence and partial deification which these
breathe were foreign to the relations of Israel to its kings, who were
not separated from their subjects by such a gulf as divided the great
sovereigns of the East from theirs. The mysterious Divinity which
hedges "the king" in the royal psalms is in sharp contrast with the
democratic familiarity between prince and people exhibited in the
history. The phenomena common to these psalms naturally suggest that
"the king" whom they celebrate is rather the ideal than the real
monarch. The office rather than the individual who partially fulfils
its demands and possesses its endowments seems to fill the singer's
canvas. But the ideal of the office is destined to be realised in the
Messiah, and the psalm is in a true sense Messianic, inasmuch as, with
whatever mixture of conceptions proper to the then stage of
revelation, it still ascribes to the ideal king attributes which no
king of Judah exhibited. The transcendant character of the gifts of
Jehovah enumerated here is obvious, however the language may be pared
down. First, we have the striking picture of Jehovah coming forth to
meet the conqueror with "blessings of goodness," as Melchizedek met
Abraham with refreshments in his hands and benedictions on his lips.
Victory is naturally followed by repose and enjoyment, and all are
Jehovah's gift. The subsequent endowments may possibly be regarded as
the details of these blessings, the fruits of the victory. Of these
the first is the coronation of the conqueror, not as if he had not
been king before, but as now more fully recognised as such. The
supporters of the Davidic authorship refer to the crown of gold won at
the capture of Rabbath of Ammon, but there is no need to seek
historical basis for the representation. Then comes a signal instance
of the king's closeness of intercourse with Jehovah and of his
receiving his heart's desire in that he asked for "life" and received
"length of days for ever and ever." No doubt the strong expression for
perpetuity may be paralleled in such phrases as "O king, live for
ever," and others which are obviously hyperbolical and mean not
perpetual, but indefinitely protracted, duration; but the great
emphasis of expression here and its repetition in ver. 6 can scarcely
be disposed of as mere hyperbole. If it is the ideal king who is
meant, his undying life is substantially synonymous with the
continuance of the dynasty which 2 Sam. vii. represents as the promise
underlying the Davidic throne. The figure of the king is then brought
still nearer to the light of Jehovah, and words which are consecrated
to express Divine attributes are applied to him in ver. 5. "Glory,"
"honour and majesty," are predicated of him, not as if there were an
apotheosis, as would have been possible in Assyrian or Roman flattery,
but the royal recipient and the Divine Giver are clearly separated,
even while the lustre raying from Jehovah is conceived of as falling
in brightness upon the king. These flashing emanations of the Divine
glory make their recipient "blessings for ever," which seems to
include both the possession and the communication of good. An eternal
fountain of blessing and himself blessed, he is cheered with joy which
comes from Jehovah's face, so close is his approach and so gracious to
him is that countenance. Nothing higher could be thought of than such
intimacy and friendliness of access. To dwell in the blaze of that
face and to find only joy therein is the crown of human blessedness
(Psalm xvi. 11). Finally, the double foundation of all the king's
gifts is laid in ver. 7: he trusts and Jehovah's loving-kindness
gives, and therefore he stands firm, and his throne endures, whatever
may dash against it. These daring anticipations are too exuberant to
be realised in any but One, whose victory was achieved in the hour of
apparent defeat; whose conquest was both His salvation and God's; who
prays knowing that He is always heard; who is King of men because He
endured the cross,--and wears the crown of pure gold because He did
not refuse the crown of thorns; who liveth for evermore, having been
given by the Father to have life in Himself; who is the outshining of
the Father's glory, and has all power granted unto Him; who is the
source of all blessing to all, who dwells in the joy to which He will
welcome His servants; and who Himself lived and conquered by the life
of faith, and so became the first Leader of the long line of those who
have trusted and therefore have stood fast. Whomsoever the psalmist
saw in his vision, he has gathered into one many traits which are
realised only in Jesus Christ.

The second part (vv. 8-12) is, by Hupfeld and others, taken as addressed
to Jehovah; and that idea has much to recommend it, but it seems to go
to wreck on the separate reference to Jehovah in ver. 9, on the
harshness of applying "evil against thee" and "a mischievous device"
(ver. 11) to Him, and on the absence of a sufficient link of connection
between the parts if it is adopted. If, on the other hand, we suppose
that the king is addressed in these verses, there is the same dramatic
structure as in Psalm xx.; and the victory which has been won is now
taken as a pledge of future ones. The expectation is couched in terms
adapted to the horizon of the singer, and on his lips probably meant
stern extermination of hostile nations. The picture is that of a fierce
conqueror, and we must not seek to soften the features, nor, on the
other hand, to deny the prophetic inspiration of the psalmist. The task
of the ideal king was to crush and root out opposition to his monarchy,
which was Jehovah's. Very terrible are the judgments of his hand, which
sound liker those of Jehovah than those inflicted by a man, as Hupfeld
and others have felt. In ver. 8 the construction is slightly varied in
the two clauses, the verb "reach" having a preposition attached in the
former, and not in the latter, which difference may be reproduced by the
distinction between "reach towards" and "reach." The seeking hand is
stretched out after, and then it grasps, its victims. The comparison of
the "fiery oven" is inexact in form, but the very negligence helps the
impression of agitation and terribleness. The enemy are not likened to a
furnace, but to the fuel cast into it. But the phrase rendered in A.V.
"in the time of thine anger" is very remarkable, being literally "in the
time of thy face." The destructive effect of Jehovah's countenance
(xxxiv. 17) is here transferred to His king's, into whose face has
passed, as he gazed in joy on the face of Jehovah, some of the lustre
which kills where it does not gladden. Compare "everlasting destruction
from the face of the Lord" (2 Thess. i. 9). The king is so completely
representative of Jehovah that the destruction of the enemy is the work
of the one fire of wrath common to both. The destruction extends to the
whole generation of enemies, as in the ferocious warfare of old days,
when a nation was wiped off the earth. The psalmist sees in the
extremest vengeance the righteous and inevitable consequence of
hostility condemned by the nature of the case to be futile, and yet
criminal: "They cause evil to hang over thee: they meditate mischief;
they will achieve nothing." Then, in ver. 12, the dread scene is
completed by the picture of the flying foe and the overtaking pursuer,
who first puts them to flight, and then, getting in front of them, sends
his arrows full in their faces. The ideal of the king has a side of
terror; and while his chosen weapon is patient love, he has other arrows
in his quiver. The pictures of the destroying conqueror are taken up and
surpassed in the New Testament. They do not see the whole Christ who do
not see the Warrior Christ, nor have they realised all His work who slur
over the solemn expectation that one day men shall call on rocks and
hills to cover them from "the steady whole of the Judge's face."

As in Psalm xx., the close is a brief petition, which asks the
fulfilment of the anticipations in vv. 8-12, and traces, as in ver. 1,
the king's triumph to Jehovah's strength. The loyal love of the nation
will take its monarch's victory as its own joy, and be glad in the
manifestation thereby of Jehovah's power. That is the true voice of
devotion which recognises God, not man, in all victories, and answers
the forthflashing of His delivering power by the thunder of praise.




                              PSALM XXII.

   1  My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?
      [Why art Thou] afar from my help, from the words of my roar?
   2  My God, I cry to Thee by day, and Thou answerest not;
      And by night, but there is no rest for me.

   3  Yet Thou art Holy,
      Throned upon the praises of Israel.
   4  In Thee our fathers trusted;
      They trusted and Thou deliveredst them.
   5  To Thee they cried and were delivered;
      In Thee they trusted and were not put to shame.

   6  But I am a worm, and not a man;
      A reproach of men and despised of people.
   7  All who see me mock at me;
      They draw open the lips, they nod the head.
   8  "Roll [thy cares] on Jehovah--let Him deliver him;
      Let Him rescue him, for He delights in him."

   9  Yea, Thou art He who didst draw me from the womb
      Didst make me trust when on my mother's breasts.
  10  Upon Thee was I thrown from birth;
      From my mother's womb art Thou my God.
  11  Be not far from me, for trouble is near;
      For there is no helper.

  12  Many bulls have surrounded me,
      Strong ones of Bashan have encircled me.
  13  They gape upon me with their mouth,
      [Like] a lion tearing and roaring.

  14  Like water I am poured out,
      And all my bones are out of joint
      My heart has become like wax,
      Melted in the midst of my bowels.
  15  My strength (palate?) is dried up like a potsherd,
      And my tongue cleaves to my gums,
      And Thou layest me in the dust of death.

  16  For dogs have surrounded me,
      A pack of evil-doers closed round me,
      They pierced my hands and my feet.
  17  I can count all my bones,
      These--they gaze, upon me they look.
  18  They divide my garments among them,
      And on my vesture they cast lots.

  19  But Thou, Jehovah, be not far off;
      My Strength, haste to my help.
  20  Deliver my soul from the sword,
      My only [life] from the paw of the dog.
  21  Save me from the mouth of the lion,
      And from the horns of the wild oxen--Thou hast answered me.

  22  I will declare Thy name to my brethren,
      In the midst of the congregation will I praise Thee.
  23  Ye that fear Jehovah, praise Him,
      All ye the seed of Jacob, glorify Him,
      And stand in awe of Him, all ye the seed of Israel.
  24  For He has not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the
            afflicted one.
      And has not hid His face from him,
      And when he cried has hearkened to him.
  25  From Thee [comes] my praise in the great congregation;
      My vows will I pay before them that fear Him.
  26  The humble shall eat and be satisfied,
      They shall praise Jehovah that seek Him;
      Let your heart live for ever.

  27  All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to Jehovah.
      And all the families of the nations shall bow before Thee.
  28  For the kingdom is Jehovah's;
      And He is ruler among the nations.
  29  All the fat ones of the earth eat and bow down;
      Before His face kneel all they who were going down to the dust,
      And he [who] could not keep his soul alive.
  30  A seed shall serve Him;
      And it shall be told of Jehovah unto the [next] generation.
  31  They shall come and declare His righteousness
      Unto a people that shall be born, that He has done [this].


Who is the sufferer whose wail is the very voice of desolation and
despair, and who yet dares to believe that the tale of his sorrow will
be a gospel for the world? The usual answers are given. The title
ascribes the authorship to David, and is accepted by Delitzsch and
others. Hengstenberg and his followers see in the picture the ideal
righteous man. Others think of Hezekiah, or Jeremiah, with whose
prophecies and history there are many points of connection. The most
recent critics find here "the personalised Genius of Israel, or more
precisely the followers of Nehemiah, including the large-hearted
psalmist" (Cheyne, "Orig. of Psalt.," 264). On any theory of authorship,
the startling correspondence of the details of the psalmist's sufferings
with those of the Crucifixion has to be accounted for. How startling
that correspondence is, both in the number and minuteness of its points,
need not be insisted on. Not only does our Lord quote the first verse on
the cross, and so show that the psalm was in his heart then, but the
gestures and words of mockery were verbally reproduced, as Luke
significantly indicates by using the LXX's word for "laugh to scorn"
(ver. 7). Christ's thirst is regarded by John as the fulfilment of
"scripture," which can scarcely be other than ver. 15. The physical
effects of crucifixion are described in the ghastly picture of vv. 14,
15. Whatever difficulty exists in determining the true reading and
meaning of the allusion to "my hands and my feet," some violence or
indignity to them is intended. The peculiar detail of dividing the
raiment was more than fulfilled, since the apparently parallel and
synonymous clauses were resolved into two distinct acts. The recognition
of these points in the psalm as prophecies is one thing; the
determination of their relation to the psalmist's own experience is
quite another. It is taken for granted in many quarters that every such
detail in prophecy must describe the writer's own circumstances, and the
supposition that they may transcend these is said to be "psychologically
impossible." But it is somewhat hazardous for those who have not been
subjects of prophetic inspiration to lay down canons of what is possible
and impossible in it, and there are examples enough to prove that the
relation of the prophets' speech to their consciousness and
circumstances was singularly complex, and not to be unravelled by any
such _obiter dicta_ as to psychological possibilities. They were
recipients of messages, and did not always understand what the "Spirit
of Christ which was in them did signify." Theories which neglect that
aspect of the case do not front all the facts. Certainty as to the
authorship of this psalm is probably unattainable. How far its words
fitted the condition of the singer must therefore remain unsettled. But
that these minute and numerous correspondences are more than
coincidences, it seems perverse to deny. The present writer, for one,
sees shining through the shadowy personality of the psalmist the figure
of the Prince of Sufferers, and believes that whether the former's
plaints applied in all their particulars to him, or whether there is in
them a certain "element of hyperbole" which becomes simple fact in
Jesus' sufferings, the psalm is a prophecy of Him and them. In the
former case the psalmist's experience, in the latter case his
utterances, were divinely shaped so as to prefigure the sacred sorrows
of the Man of Sorrows.

To a reader who shares in this understanding of the psalm, it must be
holy ground, to be trodden reverently and with thoughts adoringly fixed
on Jesus. Cold analysis is out of place. And yet there is a distinct
order even in the groans, and a manifest contrast in the two halves of
the psalm (vv. 1-21 and 22-31). "Thou answerest not" is the key-note of
the former; "Thou hast answered me," of the latter. The one paints the
sufferings, the other the glory that should follow. Both point to Jesus:
the former by the desolation which it breathes; the latter by the
world-wide consequences of these solitary sufferings which it foresees.

Surely opposites were never more startlingly blended in one gush of
feeling than in that plaint of mingled faith and despair, "My God, my
God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" which by its thus addressing God
clings fast to Him, and by its wondering question discloses the dreary
consciousness of separation from Him. The evidence to the psalmist
that he was forsaken was the apparent rejection of his prayers for
deliverance; and if David be the speaker, we may suppose that the
pathetic fate of his predecessor hovered before his thoughts: "I am
sore distressed ... God is departed from me and answereth me no more."
But, while lower degrees of this conflict of trust and despair belong
to all deep religious life, and are experienced by saintly sufferers
in all ages, the voice that rang through the darkness on Calvary was
the cry of Him who experienced its force in supreme measure and in
altogether unique manner. None but He can ask that question "Why?"
with conscience void of offence. None but He have known the mortal
agony of utter separation from God. None but He have clung to God with
absolute trust even in the horror of great darkness. In Christ's
consciousness of being forsaken by God lie elements peculiar to it
alone, for the separating agent was the gathered sins of the whole
world, laid on Him and accepted by Him in the perfection of His loving
identification of Himself with men. Unless in that dread hour He was
bearing a world's sin, there is no worthy explanation of His cry, and
many a silent martyr has faced death for Him with more courage derived
from Him than He manifested on His cross.

After the introductory strophe of two verses, there come seven
strophes, of which three contain 3 verses each (vv. 3-11) followed by
two of 2 verses each (vv. 12-15) and these again by two with 3 verses
each. Can a soul agitated as this singer's was regulate its sobs thus?
Yes, if it is a singer's, and still more if it is a saint's. The
fetters make the limbs move less violently, and there is soothing in
the ordered expression of disordered emotion. The form is artistic not
artificial; and objections to the reality of the feelings on the
ground of the regularity of the form ignore the witness of the
masterpieces of literature in all tongues.

The desolation rising from unanswered prayer drives to the
contemplation of God's holiness and past responses to trusting men,
which are in one aspect an aggravation and in another an alleviation.
The psalmist partly answers his own question "Why?" and preaches to
Himself that the reason cannot be in Jehovah, whose character and
former deeds bind Him to answer trust by help. God's holiness is
primarily His separation from, by elevation above, the creature, both
in regard of His freedom from limitations and of His perfect purity.
If He is thus "holy," He will not break His promise, nor change His
ways with those who trust. It takes some energy of faith to believe
that a silent and apparently deaf God is "holy," and the effect of the
belief may either be to crush or to lift the spirit. Its first result
with this psalmist seems to have been to crush, as the next strophe
shows, but the more blessed consequence is won before the end. Here it
is partly a plea urged with God, as is that beautiful bold image of
God enthroned "on the praises of Israel." These praises are evoked by
former acts of grace answering prayers, and of them is built a yet
nobler throne than the outstretched wings of the Cherubim. The daring
metaphor penetrates deeply into God's delight in men's praise, and the
power of Israel's voice to exalt Him in the world. How could a God
thus throned cease to give mercies like those which were perpetually
commemorated thereby? The same half-wistful, half-confident retrospect
is continued in the remaining verses of this strophe (vv. 4, 5), which
look back to the "grey fathers'" experience. Mark the plaintive
reiteration of "trust" and "deliver," the two inseparables, as the
days of old attested, which had now become so sadly parted. Not more
certainly the flow of water in a pipe answers the application of
thirsty lips to its opening than did God's rescuing act respond to the
father's trust. And now!--

The use of "Our" in reference to the fathers has been laid hold of as
favouring the hypothesis that the speaker is the personified nation;
but no individual member of a nation would speak of the common
ancestors as "My fathers." That would mean his own family progenitors,
whereas the psalmist means the Patriarchs and the earlier
generations. No argument for the national theory, then, can be drawn
from the phrase. Can the reference to Jesus be carried into this
strophe? Assuredly it may, and it shows us how truly He associated
Himself with His nation, and fed His faith by the records of the past.
"He also is a son of Abraham."

Such remembrances make the contrast of present sufferings and of a
far-off God more bitter; and so a fresh wave of agony rolls over the
psalmist's soul. He feels himself crushed and as incapable of
resistance as a worm bruised in all its soft length by an armed heel.
The very semblance of manhood has faded. One can scarcely fail to
recall "his visage was so marred more than any man" (Isa. lii. 14),
and the designation of Jehovah's servant Israel as "thou worm" (Isa.
xli. 14). The taunts that wounded the psalmist so sorely have long
since fallen dumb, and the wounds are all healed; but the immortal
words in which he wails the pain of misapprehension and rejection are
engraved for ever on the heart of the world. No suffering is more
acute than that of a sensitive soul, brimming with love and eagerness
to help, and met with scorn, rejection and ferocious mockery of its
sacredest emotions. No man has ever felt that pang with the intensity
with which Jesus felt it, for none has ever brought such wealth of
longing love to be thrown back on itself, nor been so devoid of the
callousness with which selfishness is shielded. His pure nature was
tender as an infant's hand, and felt the keen edge of the spear as
none but He can have done. They are His sorrows that are painted here,
so vividly and truly that the evangelist Luke takes the very word of
the LXX. version of the psalm to describe the rulers' mockery (Luke
xxiii. 35). "They draw open the lips," grinning with delight or
contempt; "they nod the head" in mockery and assent to the suffering
inflicted; and then the savage hate bursts into irony which defiles
the sacredest emotions and comes near to blaspheming God in ridiculing
trust in Him. The mockers thought it exquisite sarcasm to bid Jesus
roll His troubles on Jehovah, and to bid God deliver Him since He
delighted in Him. How little they knew that they were thereby
proclaiming Him as the Christ of prophecy, and were giving the
unimpeachable testimony of enemies to His life of devout trust and His
consciousness of Divine favour! "Roll (it) on God," sneered they; and
the answer was, "Father, into Thy hands I commit my spirit." "Let Him
deliver Him, since He delighteth in Him," they impiously cried, and
they knew not that God's delight in Him was the very reason why He did
not deliver Him. Because He was His Son in whom He was well pleased,
"it pleased the Lord to bruise Him." The mockery of opponents brings
into clear light the deepest secrets of that cross.

Another wave of feeling follows in the next strophe (vv. 9-11).
Backwards and forwards, from trust to complaint and from complaint to
trust, rolls the troubled sea of thought, each mood evoking its
opposite. Now reproach makes the psalmist tighten his grasp on God,
and plead former help as a reason for present hearing. Faith turns
taunts into prayers. This strophe begins with a "Yea," and, on the
relationship with God which the enemies had ridiculed and which his
heart knows to be true, pleads that God would not remain, as ver. 1
had wailed that He was, far off from His help. It goes back to the
beginning of life, and in the mystery of birth and the dependence of
infancy finds arguments with God. They are the personal application
of the wide truth that God by His making us men gives us a claim on
Him, that He has bound Himself by giving life to give what is needful
for its development and well-being. He will not stultify Himself by
making a man and then leaving him to struggle alone, as birds do with
their young, as soon as they can fly. He is "a faithful Creator." May
we venture to find special reference here to the mystery of the
Incarnation? It is noticeable that "my mother" is emphatically
mentioned, while there is no reference to a father. No doubt the cast
of the thought accounts for that, but still the special agency of
Divine power in the birth of Jesus gives special force to His prayer
for Divine help in the life so peculiarly the result of the Divine
hand. But while the plea had singular force on Christ's lips, it is
valid for all men.

The closing verse of this strophe takes the complaint of ver. 1 and
turns it into prayer. Faith does not rest with plaintively crying "Why
art Thou so far?" but pleads "Be not far"; and makes the nearness of
trouble and the absence of all other help its twofold pleas. So much
the psalmist has already won by his communing with God. Now he can
face environing sorrows and solitary defencelessness, and feel them to
be reasons for God's coming, not tokens of His distance.

We now come to two strophes of two verses each (vv. 12-15), of which the
former describes the encircling foes and the latter the psalmist's
failure of vital power. The metaphor of raging wild animals recurs in
later verses, and is common to many psalms. Bashan was a land of
pastures over which herds of half wild cattle roamed. They "have
surrounded me" is a picturesque touch, drawn direct from life, as any
one knows who has ever found himself in the midst of such a herd. The
gaping mouth is rather characteristic of the lion than of the bull. The
open jaws emit the fierce roar which precedes the fatal spring and the
"ravening" on its prey. The next short strophe passes from enemies
around to paint inward feebleness. All vital force has melted away; the
very bones are dislocated, raging thirst has supervened. These are
capable of being construed as simply strong metaphors, parallels to
which may be found in other psalms; but it must not be left unnoticed
that they are accurate transcripts of the physical effects of
crucifixion. That torture killed by exhaustion, it stretched the body as
on a rack, it was attended with agonies of thirst. It requires
considerable courage to brush aside such coincidences as accidental, in
obedience to a theory of interpretation. But the picture is not
completed when the bodily sufferings are set forth. A mysterious
attribution of them all to God closes the strophe. "Thou hast brought me
to the dust of death." Then, it is God's hand that has laid all these on
him. No doubt this may be, and probably was in the psalmist's thought,
only a devout recognition of Providence working through calamities; but
the words receive full force only by being regarded as parallel with
those of Isa. liii. 10, "He hath put Him to grief." In like manner the
apostolic preaching regards Christ's murderers as God's instruments.

The next strophe returns to the three-verse arrangement, and blends
the contents of the two preceding, dealing both with the assailing
enemies and the enfeebled sufferer. The former metaphor of wild
animals encircling him is repeated with variations. A baser order of
foes than bulls and lions, namely a troop of cowardly curs, are
snarling and snapping round him. The contemptuous figure is explained
in ver. 16 _b_, as meaning a mob of evildoers, and is then resumed in
the next clause, which has been the subject of so much dispute. It
seems plain that the Massoretic text is corrupt. "Like a lion, my
hands and my feet" can only be made into sense by violent methods. The
difference between the letters which yield "like a lion" and those
which give "they pierced" is only in the length of the upright stroke
of the final one. LXX. Vulg. Syr. translate _they dug_ or _pierced_,
and other ancient versions attest that they read the word as a verb.
The spelling of the word is anomalous, if we take it to mean _dig_,
but the irregularity is not without parallels, and may be smoothed
away either by assuming an unusual form of a common verb or a rare
root cognate with the more common one. The word would then mean "they
dug" rather than _pierced_, but the shade of difference in meaning is
not so great as to forbid the latter rendering. In any case "it is the
best attested reading. It is to be understood of the gaping wounds
which are inflicted on the sufferer's hands and feet, and which stare
at him like holes" (Baethgen, "Hand Comment.," p. 65). "Behold my
hands and my feet," said the risen Lord, and that calm word is
sufficient proof that both bore the prints of nails. The words might
be written over this psalm. Strange and sad that so many should look
on it and not see Him!

The picture of bodily sufferings has one more touch in "I can count
all my bones." Emaciation would produce that effect. But so would
crucifixion which extended the frame and threw the bones of the thorax
into prominence. Then the sufferer turns his eyes once more to his
enemies, and describes the stony gaze, protracted and unfeeling, with
which they feed upon his agonies. Crucifixion was a slow process, and
we recall the long hours in which the crowds sated their hatred
through their eyes.

It is extremely unlikely that the psalmist's garments were literally
parted among his foes, and the usual explanation of the singular
details in ver. 18 is that they are either a metaphor drawn from
plundering the slain in battle or a proverbial expression. What
reference the words had to the original speaker of them must, in our
ignorance of his circumstances, remain uncertain. But they at all
events depict his death as so sure that his enemies regard his dress
as their perquisite. Surely this is a distinct instance of Divine
guidance moulding a psalmist's words so as to fill them with a deeper
meaning than the speaker knew. He who so shaped them saw the soldiers
dividing the rest of the garments and gambling for the seamless cloak;
and He was "the Spirit of Christ which was in" the singer.

The next strophe closes the first part with petition which, in the
last words, becomes thanksgiving, and realises the answer so fervently
besought. The initial complaint of God's distance is again turned into
prayer, and the former metaphors of wild beasts are gathered into one
long cry for deliverance from the dangerous weapons of each, the dog's
paw, the lion's mouth, the wild oxen's horns. The psalmist speaks of
his "soul" or life as "my only one," referring not to his isolation,
but to his life as that which, once lost, could never be regained. He
has but one life, therefore he clings to it, and cannot but believe
that it is precious in God's eyes. And then, all at once, up shoots a
clear light of joy, and he knows that he has not been speaking to a
deaf or remote God, but that his cry is answered. He had been brought
to the dust of death, but even thence he is heard and brought out
with no soil of it upon him. Such suddenness and completeness of
deliverance from such extremity of peril may, indeed, have been
experienced by many, but receives its fullest meaning in its Messianic
application. "From the horns of the wild oxen," says he, as if the
phrase were still dependent, like the preceding ones, on the prayer,
"deliver me." But, as he thus cries, the conviction that he is heard
floods his soul, and he ends, not with a cry for help, but with that
one rapturous word, "Thou hast answered me." It is like a parting
burst of sunshine at the end of a day of tempest. A man already
transfixed by a buffalo's horns has little hope of escape, but even
thence God delivers. The psalmist did not know, but the Christian
reader should not forget that the Prince of sufferers was yet more
wondrously delivered from death by passing through death, and that by
His victory all who cleave to Him are, in like manner, saved from the
horns even while these gore them, and are then victors over death when
they fall beneath its dart.

The consequences of the psalmist's deliverance are described in the last
part (vv. 22-31) in language so wide that it is hard to suppose that any
man could think his personal experiences so important and far-reaching.
The whole congregation of Israel are to share in his thanksgiving and to
learn more of God's name through him (vv. 22-6). Nor does that bound his
anticipations, for they traverse the whole world and embrace all lands
and ages, and contemplate that the story of his sufferings and triumph
will prove a true gospel, bringing every country and generation to
remember and turn to Jehovah. The exuberant language becomes but one
mouth. Such consequences, so wide-spread and agelong, can follow from
the story of but one life. If the sorrows of the preceding part can only
be a description of the passion, the glories of the second can only be a
vision of the universal and eternal kingdom of Christ. It is a gospel
before the Gospels and an Apocalypse before Revelations.

In the first strophe (vv. 22-6) the delivered singer vows to make
God's name known to His brethren. The epistle to the Hebrews quotes
the vow as not only expressive of our Lord's true manhood, but as
specifying its purpose. Jesus became man that men might learn to know
God; and the knowledge of His name streams most brightly from the
cross. The death and resurrection, the sufferings and glory of Christ
open deeper regions in the character of God than even His gracious
life disclosed. Rising from the dead and exalted to the throne, He has
"a new song" in His immortal lips, and more to teach concerning God
than He had before.

The psalm calls Israel to praise with the singer, and tells the ground
of their joyful songs (vv. 23, 24). Here the absence of any reference
to the relation which the New Testament reveals between these
sufferings and that praise is to be noted as an instance of the
gradual development of prophecy. "We are not yet on the level of
Isaiah liii." (Kirkpatrick, "Psalms," 122). The close of this part
speaks of a sacrifice of which "the humble shall eat and be
satisfied"--"I will pay my vows"--_i.e._ the thank-offerings vowed
when in trouble. The custom of feasting on the "sacrifices for
peace-offering for thanksgiving" (Lev. vii. 15) is here referred to,
but the ceremonial garb covers spiritual truth. The condition of
partaking in this feast is humility, that poverty of spirit which
knows itself to be hungry and unable to find food for itself. The
consequence of partaking is satisfaction--a deep truth reaching far
beyond the ceremonial emblem. A further result is that "your heart
shall live for ever"--an unmeaning hyperbole, but in one application
of the words. We penetrate to the core of the psalm in this part, when
we read it in the light of Christ's words. "My flesh is meat indeed,
and my blood is drink indeed," and when we connect it with the central
act of Christian worship, the Lord's Supper.

The universal and perpetual diffusion of the kingdom and knowledge of
God is the theme of the closing strain (vv. 27-31). That diffusion is
not definitely stated as the issue of the sufferings or deliverance,
but the very fact that such a universal knowledge comes into view here
requires that it should be so regarded, else the unity of the psalm is
shattered. While, therefore, the ground alleged in ver. 28 for this
universal recognition of God is only His universal dominion, we must
suppose that the history of the singer as told to the world is the
great fact which brings home to men the truth of God's government over
and care for them. True, men know God apart from revelation and from
the gospel, but He is to them a forgotten God, and the great influence
which helps them to "remember and turn to Jehovah" is the message of
the Cross and the Throne of Jesus.

The psalm had just laid down the condition of partaking in the
sacrificial meal as being lowliness, and (ver. 29) it prophecies that
the "fat" shall also share in it. That can only be, if they become
"humble." Great and small, lofty and low must take the same place and
accept the food of their souls as a meal of charity. The following words
are very difficult, as the text stands. There would appear to be a
contrast intended between the obese self-complacency of the prosperous
and proud, and the pauper-like misery of "those who are going down to
the dust" and who "cannot keep their soul alive," that is, who are in
such penury and wretchedness that they are all but dead. There is a
place for ragged outcasts at the table side by side with the "fat on
earth." Others take the words as referring to those already dead, and
see here a hint that the dim regions of Sheol receive beams of the great
light and some share in the great feast. The thought is beautiful, but
too remote from anything else in the Old Testament to be adopted here.
Various attempts at conjectural emendations and redivision of clauses
have been made in order to lighten the difficulties of the verse.
However attractive some of these are, the existing reading yields a not
unworthy sense, and is best adhered to.

As universality in extent, so perpetuity in duration is anticipated
for the story of the psalmist's deliverance and for the praise to God
thence accruing. "A seed shall serve Him." That is one generation of
obedient worshippers. "It shall be told of Jehovah unto the [next]
generation." That is, a second, who shall receive from their
progenitors, the seed that serves, the blessed story. "They ... shall
declare His righteousness unto a people that shall be born." That is,
a third, which in its turn receives the good news from parents' lips.
And what is the word which thus maintains itself living amid dying
generations, and blesses each, and impels each to bequeath it as their
best treasure to their successors? "That He hath done." Done what?
With eloquent silence the psalm omits to specify. What was it that was
meant by that word on the cross which, with like reticence, forbore
to tell of what it spoke? "He hath done." "It is finished." No one
word can express all that was accomplished in that sacrifice. Eternity
will not fully supply the missing word, for the consequences of that
finished work go on unfolding for ever, and are for ever unfinished,
because for ever increasing.




                              PSALM XXIII.

  1  Jehovah is my Shepherd; I do not want.
  2  In pastures of fresh grass He leads me;
     By waters of rest He makes me lie.
  3  My soul He refreshes;
     He guides me in paths of righteousness [straight paths] for His
            name's sake.
  4  Even if I walk in a gorge of gloom, I fear not evil, for Thou art
            with me;
     Thy rod and Thy staff--they comfort me.

  5  Thou spreadest before me a table in presence of my foes;
     Thou anointest with oil my head: my cup is overfulness.
  6  Only good and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
     And my dwelling shall be in the house of Jehovah for length of
            days.


The world could spare many a large book better than this sunny little
psalm. It has dried many tears and supplied the mould into which many
hearts have poured their peaceful faith. To suppose that the speaker
is the personified nation chills the whole. The tone is too intense
not to be the outcome of personal experience, however admissible the
application to the nation may be as secondary. No doubt Jehovah is the
Shepherd of Israel in several Asaphite psalms and in Jeremiah; but,
notwithstanding great authorities, I cannot persuade myself that the
voice which comes so straight to the heart did not come from the heart
of a brother speaking across the centuries his own personal emotions,
which are universal just because they are individual. It is the pure
utterance of personal trust in Jehovah, darkened by no fears or
complaints and so perfectly at rest that it has nothing more to ask.
For the time desire is stilled in satisfaction. One tone, and that the
most blessed which can sound in a life, is heard through the whole. It
is the psalm of quiet trust, undisturbed even by its joy, which is
quiet too. The fire glows, but does not flame or crackle. The one
thought is expanded in two kindred images: that of the shepherd and
that of the host. The same ideas are substantially repeated under both
forms. The lovely series of vivid pictures, each but a clause long,
but clear-cut in that small compass, like the fine work incised on a
gem, combines with the depth and simplicity of the religious emotion
expressed, to lay this sweet psalm on all hearts.

Vv. 1-4 present the realities of the devout life under the image of
the Divine Shepherd and His lamb.

The comparison of rulers to shepherds is familiar to many tongues, and
could scarcely fail to occur to a pastoral people like the Jews, nor
is the application to Jehovah's relation to the people so recondite
that we need to relegate the psalms in which it occurs to a late era
in the national history. The psalmist lovingly lingers on the image,
and draws out the various aspects of the shepherd's care and of the
flock's travels, with a ripeness and calmness which suggests that we
listen to a much-experienced man. The sequence in which the successive
pictures occur is noteworthy. Guidance to refreshment comes first, and
is described in ver. 2, in words which fall as softly as the gentle
streams of which they speak. The noontide is fierce, and the land lies
baking in the sun-blaze; but deep down in some wady runs a brook, and
along its course the herbage is bright with perpetual moisture, and
among the lush grass are cool lairs where the footsore, panting flock
may couch. The shepherd's tenderness is beautifully hinted at in the
two verbs: he "leads," not drives, but in Eastern wise precedes and so
draws the trustful sheep; he "makes me to lie down," taking care that
the sheep shall stretch weary limbs in full enjoyment of repose. God
thus guides to rest and lays to rest the soul that follows Him. Why
does the psalmist begin with this aspect of life? Because it is
fittest to express the shepherd's care, and because it is, after all,
the predominant aspect to the devout heart. Life is full of trial and
effort, but it is an unusually rainy region where rain falls on more
than half the days of the year. We live so much more vividly and fully
in the moments of agony or crisis that they seem to fill more space
than they really do. But they are only moments, and the periods of
continued peaceful possession of blessings are measured by years. But
the sweet words of the psalm are not to be confined to material good.
The psalmist does not tell us whether he is thinking more of the outer
or of the inner life, but both are in his mind, and while his
confidence is only partially warranted by the facts of the former, it
is unlimitedly true in regard to the latter. In that application of
the words the significance of the priority given to the pastures of
fresh springing grass and the waters of repose is plain, for there the
rest of trust and the drinking of living water must precede all
walking in paths of righteousness.

Food and drink and rest refresh fainting powers, and this
reinvigoration is meant by "restoring my soul" or life.

But the midday or nightly rest is intended to fit for effort, and so a
second little picture follows in ver. 3, presenting another aspect of
the shepherd's care and of the sheep's course. Out again on to the
road, in spite of heat and dust, the flock goes. "Paths of
righteousness" is perhaps best taken as "straight paths," as that
rendering keeps within the bounds of the metaphor; but since the sheep
are men, straight paths for them must needs be paths of righteousness.
That guidance is "for His name's sake." God has regard to His revealed
character in shepherding His lamb, and will give direction because He
is what He is, and in order that He may be known to be what He has
declared Himself. The psalmist had learned the purpose of repose and
refreshment which, in all regions of life, are intended to prepare for
tasks and marches. We are to "drink for strength, and not for
drunkenness." A man may lie in a bath till strength is diminished, or
may take his plunge and come from it braced for work. In the religious
life it is possible to commit an analogous error, and to prize so
unwisely peaceful hours of communion, as to waive imperative duty for
the sake of them; like Peter with his "Let us make here three
tabernacles," while there were devil-ridden sufferers waiting to be
healed down on the plain. Moments of devotion, which do not prepare
for hours of practical righteousness, are very untrustworthy. But, on
the other hand, the paths of righteousness will not be trodden by
those who have known nothing of the green pastures and waters where
the wearied can rest.

But life has another aspect than these two--rest and toil; and the
guidance into danger and sorrow is as tender as its other forms are.
The singular word rendered "shadow of death" should probably simply be
"gloomy darkness," such, for instance, as in the shaft of a mine (Job
xxviii. 3). But, even if the former rendering is retained, it is not
to be interpreted as meaning actual death. No wise forward look can
ignore the possibility of many sorrows and the certainty of some. Hope
has ever something of dread in her eyes. The road will not be always
bright and smooth, but will sometimes plunge down into grim canons,
where no sunbeams reach. But even that anticipation may be calm. "Thou
art with me" is enough. He who guides into the gorge will guide
through it. It is not a _cul de sac_, shut in with precipices at the
far end; but it opens out on shining table-lands, where there is
greener pasture. The rod and staff seem to be two names for one
instrument, which was used both to beat off predatory animals and to
direct the sheep. The two synonyms and the appended pronoun express by
their redundancy the full confidence of the psalmist. He will not
fear, though there are grounds enough for terror, in the dark valley;
and though sense prompts him to dread, he conquers fear because he
trusts. "Comfort" suggests a struggle, or, as Calvin says, "Quorsum
enim consolatio ipsa, nisi quia metus eum solicitat?"

The second image of the Divine Host and His guest is expanded in vv. 5,
6. The ideas are substantially the same as in the first part. Repose and
provision, danger and change, again fill the foreground; and again there
is forecast of a more remote future. But all is intensified, the need
and the supply being painted in stronger colours and the hope being
brighter. The devout man is God's guest while he marches through foes,
and travels towards perpetual repose in the house of Jehovah.

Jehovah supplies His servants' wants in the midst of conflict. The table
spread in the sight of the enemy is a more signal token of care and
power than the green pastures are. Life is not only journey and effort,
but conflict; and it is possible not only to have seasons of refreshment
interspersed in the weary march, but to find a sudden table spread by
the same unseen hand which holds back the foes, who look on with grim
eyes, powerless to intercept the sustenance or disturb the guests. This
is the condition of God's servant--always conflict, but always a spread
table. Joy snatched in the face of danger is specially poignant. The
flowers that bloom on the brink of a cataract are bright, and their
tremulous motion adds a charm. Special experiences of God's sufficiency
are wont to come in seasons of special difficulty, as many a true heart
knows. It is no scanty meal that waits God's soldier under such
circumstances, but a banquet accompanied with signs of festivity, viz.,
the head anointed with oil and the cup which is "fulness." God's
supplies are wont to surpass the narrow limits of need and even to
transcend capacity, having a something over which as yet we are unable
to take in, but which is not disproportioned or wasted, since it widens
desire and thereby increases receptivity.

In the last verse we seem to pass to pure anticipation. Memory melts
into hope, and that brighter than the forecast which closed the first
part. There the psalmist's trust simply refused to yield to fear,
while keenly conscious of evil which might warrant it; but here he has
risen higher, and the alchemy of his happy faith and experience has
converted evil into something fairer. "_Only_ good and mercy shall
follow me." There is no evil for the heart wedded to Jehovah; there
are no foes to pursue, but two bright-faced angels walk behind him as
his rear-guard. It is much when the retrospect of life can, like
Jacob on his deathbed, see "the Angel which redeemed me from all
evil"; but it is perhaps more when the else fearful heart can look
forward and say that not only will it fear no evil, but that nothing
but blessings, the outcome of God's mercy, will ever reach it.

The closing hope of dwelling in the house of Jehovah to length of days
rises above even the former verse. The singer knew himself a guest of
God's at the table spread before the foe, but that was, as it were,
refreshment on the march, while this is continual abiding in the home.
Such an unbroken continuity of abode in the house of Jehovah is a
familiar aspiration in other psalms, and is always regarded as
possible even while hands are engaged in ordinary duties and cares.
The psalms which conceive of the religious life under this image are
marked by a peculiar depth and inwardness. They are wholesomely
mystical. The hope of this guest of God's is that, by the might of
fixed faith and continual communion, he may have his life so hid in
God that wherever he goes he may still be in His house, and whatever
he does he may still be "inquiring in His temple." The hope is here
confined to the earthly present, but the Christian reading of the
psalm can scarcely fail to transfer the words to a future. God will
bring those whom He has fed and guided in journeying and conflict to
an unchanging mansion in a home beyond the stars. Here we eat at a
table spread with pilgrims' food, manna from heaven and water from the
rock. We eat in haste and with an eye on the foe, but we may hope to
sit down at another table in the perfected kingdom. The end of the
fray is the beginning of the feast. "We shall go no more out."




                              PSALM XXIV.

   1  Jehovah's is the earth, and what fills it,
      The world and the dwellers therein.
   2  For He--upon the seas He founded it,
      And upon the floods established it.

   3  Who may ascend into the hill of Jehovah,
      And who may stand in His holy place?

   4  The clean-handed and pure-hearted,
      Who lifts not his desire to vanity,
      And swears not to falsehood.
   5  He shall receive blessing from Jehovah
      And righteousness from the God of his salvation.
   6  This is the generation of them that seek Him,
      That seek Thy face; [this is] Jacob. Selah.

   7  Lift up, O gates, your heads,
      Yea, lift up yourselves, O ancient doors,
      That the King of glory may come in.
   8  Who then is the King of glory?
      Jehovah, strong and a Champion,
      Jehovah, a Champion in battle.

   9  Lift up, O gates, your heads,
      Yea, lift them up, O ancient doors,
      That the King of glory may come in.
  10  Who is He, then, the King of glory?
      Jehovah of hosts,
      He is the King of glory. Selah.


Ewald's widely accepted view that this psalm is a composite of two
fragments rests on a somewhat exaggerated estimate of the differences
in tone and structure of the parts. These are obvious, but do not
demand the hypothesis of compilation; and the original author has as
good a right to be credited with the uniting thought as the supposed
editor has. The usually alleged occasion of the psalm fits its tone so
well and gives such appropriateness to some of its phrases that
stronger reasons than are forthcoming are required to negative it. The
account in 2 Sam. vi. tells of exuberant enthusiasm and joy, of which
some echo sounds in the psalm. It is a processional hymn, celebrating
Jehovah's entrance to His house; and that one event, apprehended on
its two sides, informs the whole. Hence the two halves have the same
interchange of question and answer, and the two questions correspond,
the one inquiring the character of the men who dare dwell with God,
the other the name of the God who dwells with men. The procession is
climbing the steep to the gates of the ancient Jebusite fortress,
recently won by David. As it climbs, the song proclaims Jehovah as the
universal Lord, basing the truth of His special dwelling in Zion upon
that of His world-wide rule. The question, so fitting the lips of the
climbers, is asked, possibly in solo, and the answer describing the
qualifications of true worshippers, and possibly choral (vv. 3-6), is
followed by a long-drawn musical interlude. Now the barred gates are
reached. A voice summons them to open. The guards within, or possibly
the gates themselves, endowed by the poet with consciousness and
speech, ask who thus demands entrance. The answer is a triumphant
shout from the procession. But the question is repeated, as if to
allow of the still fuller reiteration of Jehovah's name, which shakes
the grey walls; and then, with clang of trumpets and clash of cymbals,
the ancient portals creak open, and Jehovah "enters into His rest, He
and the ark of His strength."

Jehovah's dwelling on Zion did not mean His desertion of the rest of
the world, nor did His choice of Israel imply His abdication of rule
over, or withdrawal of blessings from, the nations. The light which
glorified the bare hilltop, where the Ark rested, was reflected thence
over all the world. "The glory" was there concentrated, not confined.
This psalm guards against all superstitious misconceptions, and
protests against national narrowness, in exactly the same way as Exod.
xix. 5 bases Israel's selection from among all peoples on the fact
that "all the earth is Mine."

"Who may ascend?" was a picturesquely appropriate question for singers
toning upwards, and "who may stand?" for those who hoped presently to
enter the sacred presence. The Ark which they bore had brought
disaster to Dagon's temple, so that the Philistine lords had asked in
terror, "Who is able to stand before this holy Lord God?" and at
Beth-shemesh its presence had been so fatal that David had abandoned
the design of bringing it up and said, "How shall the ark of the Lord
come to me?" The answer, which lays down the qualifications of true
dwellers in Jehovah's house, may be compared with the similar outlines
of ideal character in Psalm xv. and Isa. xxxiii. 14. The one
requirement is purity. Here that requirement is deduced from the
majesty of Jehovah, as set forth in vv. 1, 2, and from the designation
of His dwelling as "holy." This is the postulate of the whole Psalter.
In it the approach to Jehovah is purely spiritual, even while the
outward access is used as a symbol; and the conditions are of the same
nature as the approach. The general truth implied is that the
character of the God determines the character of the worshippers.
Worship is supreme admiration, culminating in imitation. Its law is
always "They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that
trusteth in them." A god of war will have warriors, and a god of lust
sensualists, for his devotees. The worshippers in Jehovah's holy place
must be holy. The details of the answer are but the echoes of a
conscience enlightened by the perception of His character. In ver. 4
it may be noted that of the four aspects of purity enumerated the two
central refer to the inward life (_pure heart; lifts not his desire
unto vanity_), and these are embedded, as it were, in the outward life
of deeds and words. Purity of act is expressed by "clean
hands"--neither red with blood, nor foul with grubbing in dunghills
for gold and other so-called good. Purity of speech is condensed into
the one virtue of truthfulness (_swears not to a falsehood_). But the
outward will only be right if the inward disposition is pure, and that
inward purity will only be realised when desires are carefully curbed
and directed. As is the desire, so is the man. Therefore the prime
requisite for a pure heart is the withdrawal of affection, esteem, and
longing from the solid-seeming illusions of sense. "Vanity" has,
indeed, the special meaning of _idols_, but the notion of earthly good
apart from God is more relevant here.

In ver. 5 the possessor of such purity is represented as receiving "a
blessing, even righteousness," from God, which is by many taken to mean
beneficence on the part of God, "inasmuch as, according to the Hebrew
religious view of the world, all good is regarded as reward from God's
retributive righteousness, and consequently as that of man's own
righteousness or right conduct" (Hupfeld). The expression is thus
equivalent to "salvation" in the next clause. But, while the word has
this meaning in some places, it does not seem necessary to adopt it
here, where the ordinary meaning is quite appropriate. Such a man as is
described in ver. 4 will have God's blessing on his efforts after
purity, and a Divine gift will furnish him with that which he strives
after. The hope is not lit by the full sunshine of New Testament truth,
but it approximates thereto. It dimly anticipates "Blessed are they that
hunger and thirst after righteousness"; and it feels after the great
thought that the highest righteousness is not to be won, but to be
accepted, even while it only asserts that man's effort after must
precede his possession of righteousness. We can give the words a deeper
meaning, and see in them the dawn of the later teaching that
righteousness must be "received" from "the God of salvation."

Ver. 6 seems to carry the adumbration of truth not yet disclosed a step
further. A great planet is trembling into visibility, and is divined
before it is seen. The emphasis in ver. 6 is on "seek," and the
implication is that the men who seek find. If we seek God's face, we
shall receive purity. There the psalm touches the foundation. The Divine
heart so earnestly desires to give righteousness that to seek is to
find. In that region a wish brings an answer, and no outstretched hand
remains empty. Things of less worth have to be toiled and fought for;
but the most precious of all is a gift, to be had for the asking. That
thought did not stand clearly before the Old Testament worshippers, but
struggles towards expression in many a psalm, as it could not but do
whenever a devout heart pondered the problems of conduct. We have
abundant warnings against the anachronism of thrusting New Testament
doctrine into the Psalms, but it is no less one-sided to ignore
anticipations which could not but spring up where there was earnest
wrestling with the thoughts of sin and of the need for purity.

Are we to adopt the supplement, "O God of," before the abrupt "Jacob"?
The clause is harsh in any construction. The preceding "thy" seems to
require the addition, as God is not directly addressed elsewhere in
the psalm. On the other hand, the declaration that such seekers are
the true people of God is a worthy close of the whole description, and
the reference to the "face" of God verbally recalls Peniel and that
wonderful incident when Jacob became Israel. The seeker after God will
have that scene repeated, and be able to say, "I have seen God." The
abrupt introduction of "Jacob" is made more emphatic by the musical
interlude which closes the first part.

There is a pause, while the procession ascends the hill of the Lord,
revolving the stringent qualifications for entrance. It stands before
the barred gates, while possibly part of the choir is within. The
advancing singers summon the doors to open and receive the incoming
Jehovah. Their portals are too low for Him to enter, and therefore
they are called upon to lift their lintels. They are grey with age,
and round them cluster long memories; therefore they are addressed as
"gates of ancient time." The question from within expresses ignorance
and hesitation, and dramatically represents the ancient gates as
sharing the relation of the former inhabitants to the God of Israel,
whose name they did not know, and whose authority they did not own. It
heightens the force of the triumphant shout proclaiming His mighty
name. He is Jehovah, the self-existent God, who has made a covenant
with Israel, and fights for His people, as these grey walls bear
witness. His warrior might had wrested them from their former
possessors, and the gates must open for their Conqueror. The repeated
question is pertinacious and animated: "Who then is He, the King of
glory?" as if recognition and surrender were reluctant. The answer is
sharp and authoritative, being at once briefer and fuller. It peals
forth the great name "Jehovah of hosts." There may be reference in the
name to God's command of the armies of Israel, thereby expressing the
religious character of their wars; but the "hosts" include the angels,
"His ministers who do His pleasure," and the stars, of which He brings
forth the hosts by number. In fact, the conception underlying the name
is that of the universe as an ordered whole, a disciplined army, a
cosmos obedient to His voice. It is the same conception which the
centurion had learned from his legion, where the utterance of one will
moved all the stern, shining ranks. That mighty name, like a charge of
explosives, bursts the gates of brass asunder, and the procession
sweeps through them amid yet another burst of triumphant music.




                               PSALM XXV.

   1  ([Hebrew: alef]) Unto Thee, Jehovah, I uplift my soul;
      [On Thee I wait all the day, O my God!].
   2  ([Hebrew: bet]) On Thee I hang: let me not be put to shame;
      Let not my enemies exult over me.
   3  ([Hebrew: gimel]) Yea, all who wait on Thee shall not be put to
            shame;
      Put to shame shall they be who faithlessly forsake Thee without
            cause.
   4  ([Hebrew: dalet]) Thy ways, Jehovah, make me to know,
      Thy paths teach Thou me.
   5  ([Hebrew: he]) Make me walk in Thy troth, and teach me,
      For Thou art the God of my salvation.
   6  ([Hebrew: zayin]) Remember Thy compassions, Jehovah, and Thy
            loving-kindnesses,
      For from of old are they.
   7  ([Hebrew: het]) Sins of my youth and my transgression remember
            not;
      According to Thy loving-kindness remember me,
      For Thy goodness' sake, Jehovah.
   8  ([Hebrew: tet]) Good and upright is Jehovah;
      Therefore He instructs sinners in the way.
   9  ([Hebrew: yod]) He will cause the meek to walk in that which is
            right,
      And will teach the meek His way.

  10  ([Hebrew: kaf]) All the paths of Jehovah are loving-kindness and
            troth
      To keepers of His covenant and His testimonies.
  11  ([Hebrew: lamed]) For Thy name's sake, Jehovah,
      Pardon my iniquity, for great is it.
  12  ([Hebrew: mem]) Who, then, is the man who fears Jehovah?
      He will instruct him in the way he should choose.
  13  ([Hebrew: nun]) Himself shall dwell in prosperity,
      And his seed shall possess the land.
  14  ([Hebrew: samekh]) The secret of Jehovah is [told] to them that
            fear Him,
      And His covenant He makes them know.
  15  ([Hebrew: ayin]) My eyes are continually toward Jehovah,
      For He, He shall bring out my feet from the net.
  16  ([Hebrew: pe]) Turn Thee unto me, and be gracious to me,
      For solitary and afflicted am I.
  17  ([Hebrew: tsadi]) The straits of my heart do Thou enlarge (?),
      And from my distresses bring me out.
  18  ([Hebrew: resh]) Look on my affliction and my travail,
      And lift away all my sins.
  19  ([Hebrew: resh]) Look on my enemies, for they are many,
      And they hate me with cruel hate.
  20  ([Hebrew: shin]) Keep my soul and deliver me;
      Let me not be put to shame, for I have taken refuge in Thee.
  21  ([Hebrew: tav]) Let integrity and uprightness guard me,
      For I wait on Thee.
  22  Redeem Israel, O God,
      From all his straits.


The recurrence of the phrase "lift up the soul" may have determined
the place of this psalm next to Psalm xxiv. It is acrostic, but with
irregularities. As the text now stands, the second, not the first,
word in ver. 2 begins with Beth; Vav is omitted or represented in the
"and teach me" of the He verse (ver. 5); Qoph is also omitted, and its
place taken by a supernumerary Resh, which letter has thus two verses
(18, 19); and ver. 22 begins with Pe, and is outside the scheme of the
psalm, both as regards alphabetic structure and subject. The same
peculiarities of deficient Vav and superfluous Pe verses reappear in
another acrostic psalm (xxxiv.), in which the initial word of the last
verse is, as here, "redeem." Possibly the two psalms are connected.

The fetters of the acrostic structure forbid freedom and progress of
thought, and almost compel repetition. It is fitted for meditative
reiteration of favourite emotions or familiar axioms, and results in a
loosely twined wreath rather than in a column with base, shaft, and
capital. A slight trace of consecution of parts may be noticed in the
division of the verses (excluding ver. 22) into three sevens, of which
the first is prayer, the second meditation on the Divine character and
the blessings secured by covenant to them who fear Him, and the third is
bent round, wreath-like, to meet the first, and is again prayer. Such
alternation of petition and contemplation is like the heart's beat of
the religious life, now expanding in desire, now closing in possession.
The psalm has no marks of occasion or period. It deals with the
permanent elements in a devout man's relation to God.

The first prayer-section embraces the three standing needs:
protection, guidance, and forgiveness. With these are intertwined
their pleas according to the logic of faith--the suppliant's uplifted
desires and God's eternal tenderness and manifested mercy. The order
of mention of the needs proceeds from without inwards, for protection
from enemies is superficial as compared with illumination as to duty,
and deeper than even that, as well as prior in order of time (and
therefore last in order of enumeration), is pardon. Similarly the
pleas go deeper as they succeed each other; for the psalmist's trust
and waiting is superficial as compared with the plea breathed in the
name of "the God of my salvation"; and that general designation leads
to the gaze upon the ancient and changeless mercies, which constitute
the measure and pattern of God's working (_according to_, ver. 7), and
upon the self-originated motive, which is the deepest and strongest of
all arguments with Him (_for Thy goodness' sake_, ver. 7).

A qualification of the guest in God's house was in Psalm xxiv. the
negative one that he did not lift up his soul--_i.e._, set his
desires--on the emptinesses of time and sense. Here the psalmist
begins with the plea that he has set his on Jehovah, and, as the
position of "Unto Thee, Jehovah," at the beginning shows, on Him
alone. The very nature of such aspiration after God demands that it
shall be exclusive. "All in all or not at all" is the requirement of
true devotion, and such completeness is not attained without continual
withdrawal of desire from created good. The tendrils of the heart must
be untwined from other props before they can be wreathed round their
true stay. The irregularity in ver. 2, where the second, not the
first, word of the verse begins with Beth, may be attenuated by
treating the Divine name as outside the acrostic order. An acute
conjecture, however, that the last clause of ver. 5 really belongs to
ver. 1 and should include "my God" now in ver. 2, has much in its
favour. Its transposition restores to both verses the two-claused
structure which runs through the psalm, gets rid of the acrostical
anomaly, and emphasises the subsequent reference to those who wait on
Jehovah in ver. 3.

In that case ver. 2 begins with the requisite letter. It passes from
plea to petition: "Let me not be shamed." Trust that was not
vindicated by deliverance would cover the face with confusion. "Hopes
that breed not shame" are the treasure of him whose hope is in
Jehovah. Foes unnamed threaten; but the stress of the petitions in the
first section of the psalm is less on enemies than on sins. One cry
for protection from the former is all that the psalmist utters, and
then his prayer swiftly turns to deeper needs. In the last section the
petitions are more exclusively for deliverance from enemies. Needful
as such escape is, it is less needful than the knowledge of God's
ways, and the man in extremest peril orders his desires rightly, if he
asks holiness first and safety second. The cry in ver. 2 rests upon
the confidence nobly expressed in ver. 3, in which the verbs are not
optatives, but futures, declaring a truth certain to be realised in
the psalmist's experience, because it is true for all who, like him,
wait on Jehovah. True prayer is the individual's sheltering himself
under the broad folds of the mantle that covers all who pray. The
double confidence as to the waiters on Jehovah and the "treacherous
without cause" is the summary of human experience as read by faith.
Sense has much to adduce in contradiction, but the dictum is
nevertheless true, only its truth does not always appear in the small
arc of the circle which lies between cradle and grave.

The prayer for deliverance glides into that for guidance, since the
latter is the deeper need, and the former will scarcely be answered
unless the suppliant's will docilely offers the latter. The soul
lifted to Jehovah will long to know His will and submit itself to His
manifold teachings. "Thy ways" and "Thy paths" necessarily mean here
the ways in which Jehovah desires that the psalmist should go. "In Thy
truth" is ambiguous, both as to the preposition and the noun. The
clause may either present God's truth (_i.e._, faithfulness) as His
motive for answering the prayer, or His truth (_i.e._, the objective
revelation) as the path for men. Predominant usage inclines to the
former signification of the noun, but the possibility still remains of
regarding God's faithfulness as the path in which the psalmist desires
to be led, _i.e._ to experience it. The cry for forgiveness strikes a
deeper note of pathos, and, as asking a more wondrous blessing, grasps
still more firmly the thought of what Jehovah is and always has been.
The appeal is made to "_Thy_ compassions and loving-kindnesses," as
belonging to His nature, and to their past exercise as having been
"from of old." Emboldened thus, the psalmist can look back on his own
past, both on his outbursts of youthful passion and levity, which he
calls "failures," as missing the mark, and on the darker evils of
later manhood, which he calls "rebellions," and can trust that Jehovah
will think upon him _according to His mercy_, and _for the sake of His
goodness_ or love. The vivid realisation of that Eternal Mercy as the
very mainspring of God's actions, and as setting forth, in many an
ancient deed, the eternal pattern of His dealings, enables a man to
bear the thought of his own sins.

The contemplation of the Divine character prepares the way for the
transition to the second group of seven verses, which are mainly
meditation on that character and on God's dealings and the blessedness
of those who fear Him (vv. 8-14). The thought of God beautifully draws
the singer from himself. How deeply and lovingly he had pondered on
the name of the Lord before he attained to the grand truth that His
goodness and very uprightness pledged Him to show sinners where they
should walk! Since there is at the heart of things an infinitely pure
and equally loving Being, nothing is more impossible than that He
should wrap Himself in thick darkness and leave men to grope after
duty. Revelation of the path of life in some fashion is the only
conduct consistent with His character. All presumptions are in favour
of such Divine teaching; and the fact of sin makes it only the more
certain. That fact may separate men from God, but not God from men,
and if they transgress, the more need, both in their characters and in
God's, is there that He should speak. But while their being sinners
does not prevent His utterance, their disposition determines their
actual reception of His teaching, and "the meek" or lowly of heart are
His true scholars. His instruction is not wasted on them, and, being
welcomed, is increased. A fuller communication of His will rewards the
humble acceptance of it. Sinners are led _in_ the way; the meek are
taught His way. Here the conception of God's way is in transition from
its meaning in ver. 4 to that in ver. 10, where it distinctly must
mean His manner of dealing with men. They who accept His teaching, and
order their paths as He would have them do, will learn that the
impulse and meaning of all which He does to them are "mercy and
truth," the two great attributes to which the former petitions
appealed, and which the humble of heart, who observe the conditions of
God's covenant which is witness of His own character and of their
duty, will see gleaming with lambent light even in calamities.

The participators, then, in this blessed knowledge have a threefold
character: sinners; humble; keepers of the covenant and testimonies.
The thought of these requirements drives the psalmist back on himself,
as it will do all devout souls, and forces from him a short
ejaculation of prayer, which breaks with much pathos and beauty the
calm flow of contemplation. The pleas for forgiveness of the
"iniquity" which makes him feel unworthy of Jehovah's guidance are
remarkable. "For Thy name's sake" appeals to the revealed character of
God, as concerned in the suppliant's pardon, inasmuch as it will be
honoured thereby, and God will be true to Himself in forgiving. "For
it is great" speaks the boldness of helplessness. The magnitude of sin
demands a Divine intervention. None else than God can deal with it.
Faith makes the very greatness of sin and extremity of need a reason
for God's act of pardon.

Passing from self, the singer again recurs to his theme, reiterating
in vivid language and with some amplification the former thoughts. In
vv. 8-10 the character of Jehovah was the main subject, and the men
whom He blessed were in the background. In vv. 12-14 they stand
forward. Their designation now is the wide one of "those who fear
Jehovah," and the blessings they receive are, first, that of being
taught the way, which has been prominent thus far, but here has a new
phase, as being "the way that he should choose"; _i.e._, God's
teaching illuminates the path, and tells a man what he ought to do,
while his freedom of choice is uninfringed. Next, outward blessings of
settled prosperity shall be his, and his children shall have the
promises to Israel fulfilled in their possession of the land. These
outward blessings belong to the Old Testament epoch, and can only
partially be applied to the present stage of Providence. But the final
element of the good man's blessedness (ver. 14) is eternally true.
Whether we translate the first word "secret" or "friendship," the
sense is substantially the same. Obedience and the true fear of
Jehovah directly tend to discernment of His purposes, and will besides
be rewarded by whispers from heaven. God would not hide from Abraham
what He would do, and still His friend will know His mind better than
the disobedient. The last clause of ver. 14 is capable of various
renderings. "His covenant" may be in the accusative, and the verb a
periphrastic future, as the A.V. takes it, or the former word may be
nominative, and the clause be rendered, "And His covenant [is] to make
them to know." But the absolute use of the verb without a
specification of the object taught is somewhat harsh, and probably the
former rendering is to be preferred. The deeper teaching of the
covenant which follows on the fear of the Lord includes both its
obligations and blessings, and the knowledge is not mere intellectual
perception, but vital experience. In this region life is knowledge,
and knowledge life. Whoso "keeps His covenant" (ver. 10) will ever
grow in appropriation of its blessings and apprehension of its
obligations by his submissive will.

The third heptad of verses returns to simple petition, and that, with
one exception (ver. 18 _b_), for deliverance from enemies. This
recurrence, in increased intensity, of the consciousness of hostility
is not usual, for the psalms which begin with it generally pray
themselves out of it. "The peace which passeth understanding," which
is the best answer to prayer, has not fully settled on the heaving
sea. A heavy ground swell runs in these last short petitions, which
all mean substantially the same thing. But there is a beginning of
calm; and the renewed petitions are a pattern of that continual
knocking of which such great things are said and recorded in
Scripture. The section begins with a declaration of patient
expectance: "Mine eyes are ever towards Jehovah," with wistful
fixedness which does not doubt though it has long to look. Nets are
wrapped round his feet, inextricably but for one hand. We can bear to
feel our limbs entangled and fettered, if our eyes are free to gaze,
and fixed in gazing, upwards. The desired deliverance is thrice
presented (ver. 16, "turn unto"; ver. 18, "look upon"; ver. 19,
"consider," lit. look upon) as the result of Jehovah's face being
directed towards the psalmist.

When Jehovah turns to a man, the light streaming from His face makes
darkness day. The pains on which He "looks" are soothed; the enemies
whom He beholds shrivel beneath His eye. The psalmist believes that
God's presence, in the deeper sense of that phrase, as manifested partly
through delivering acts and partly through inward consciousness, is his
one need, in which all deliverances and gladnesses are enwrapped. He
plaintively pleads, "For I am alone and afflicted." The soul that has
awakened to the sense of the awful solitude of personal being, and
stretched out yearning desires to the only God, and felt that with Him
it would know no pain in loneliness, will not cry in vain. In ver. 17 a
slight alteration in the text, the transference of the final Vav of one
word to the beginning of the next, gets rid of the incongruous phrase
"are enlarged" as applied to troubles (lit. straits), and gives a prayer
which is in keeping with the familiar use of the verb in reference to
afflictions: "The troubles of my heart do Thou enlarge [cf. iv. 2;
xviii. 36], and from my distresses," etc. Ver. 18 should begin with
Qoph, but has Resh, which is repeated in the following verse, to which
it rightly belongs. It is at least noteworthy that the anomaly makes the
petition for Jehovah's "look" more emphatic, and brings into prominence
the twofold direction of it. The "look" on the psalmist's affliction and
pain will be tender and sympathetic, as a mother eagle's on her sick
eaglet; that on his foes will be stern and destructive, many though they
be. In ver. 11 the prayer for pardon was sustained by the plea that the
sin was "great"; in ver. 19 that for deliverance from foes rests on the
fact that "they are many," for which the verb cognate with the adjective
of ver. 11 is used. Thus both dangers without and evils within are
regarded as crying out, by their multitude, for God's intervention. The
wreath is twined so that its end is brought round to its beginning. "Let
me not be ashamed, for I trust in Thee," is the second petition of the
first part repeated; and "I wait on Thee," which is the last word of the
psalm, omitting the superfluous verse, echoes the clause which it is
proposed to transfer to ver. 1. Thus the two final verses correspond to
the two initial, the last but one to the first but one, and the last to
the first. The final prayer is that "integrity (probably complete
devotion of heart to God) and uprightness" (in relation to men) may
preserve him, as guardian angels; but this does not assert the
possession of these, but is a petition for the gift of them quite as
much as for their preserving action. The implication of that petition is
that no harm can imperil or destroy him whom these characteristics
guard. That is true in the whole sweep of human life, however often
contradicted in the judgment of sense.

Like Psalm xxxiv., this concludes with a supplementary verse beginning
with Pe, a letter already represented in the acrostic scheme. This may
be a later addition, for liturgical purposes.




                              PSALM XXVI.

   1  Judge me, Jehovah, for I--in my integrity do I walk,
      And in Jehovah do I trust unwavering.
   2  Test me, Jehovah, and try me,
      My reins and my heart.
   3  For Thy loving-kindness is before my eyes,
      And I walk in Thy troth.

   4  I sit not with men of vanity,
      And with those who mask themselves do I not go.
   5  I hate the congregation of evil-doers,
      And with the wicked I do not sit.

   6  I will wash my hands in innocence,
      That I may compass Thine altar, Jehovah,
   7  To cause the voice of praise to be heard,
      And to tell forth all Thy wonders.

   8  Jehovah, I love the shelter of Thy house,
      And the place of the dwelling of Thy glory.
   9  Take not away with sinners my soul,
      Nor with men of blood my life,
  10  In whose hands is outrage,
      And their right hand is full of bribery.

  11  But I--in my integrity will I walk;
      Redeem me, and be gracious to me.
  12  My foot stands on level ground;
      In the congregations will I bless Jehovah.


The image of "the way" which is characteristic of Psalm xxv. reappears
in a modified form in this psalm, which speaks of "walking in
integrity" and truth and of "feet standing in an even place." Other
resemblances to the preceding psalm are the use of "redeem," "be
merciful"; the references to God's loving-kindness and truth, in which
the psalmist walks, and to his own integrity. These similarities may
or may not indicate common authorship, but probably guided the
compilers in placing the psalm here. It has not clear marks of date or
of the writer's circumstances. Its two ground tones are profession of
integrity and of revulsion from the society of the wicked and prayer
for vindication of innocence by the fact of deliverance. The verses
are usually grouped in couples, but with some irregularity.

The two key-notes are both struck in the first group of three verses, in
which vv. 2 and 3 are substantially an expansion of ver. 1. The prayer,
"Judge me," asks for a Divine act of deliverance based upon a Divine
recognition of the psalmist's sincerity and unwavering trust. Both the
prayer and its ground are startling. It grates upon ears accustomed to
the tone of the New Testament that a suppliant should allege his
single-eyed simplicity and steadfast faith as pleas with God, and the
strange tone sounds on through the whole psalm. The threefold prayer in
ver. 2 courts Divine scrutiny, as conscious of innocence, and bares the
inmost recesses of affection and impulse for testing, proving by
circumstances, and smelting by any fire. The psalmist is ready for the
ordeal, because he has kept God's "loving-kindness" steadily in sight
through all the glamour of earthly brightnesses, and his outward life
has been all, as it were, transacted in the sphere of God's
truthfulness; _i.e._, the inward contemplation of His mercy and
faithfulness has been the active principle of his life. Such
self-consciousness is strange enough to us, but, strange as it is, it
cannot fairly be stigmatised as Pharisaic self-righteousness. The
psalmist knows that all goodness comes from God, and he clings to God in
childlike trust. The humblest Christian heart might venture in similar
language to declare its recoil from evil-doers and its deepest spring of
action as being trust. Such professions are not inconsistent with
consciousness of sin, which is, in fact, often associated with them in
other psalms (xxv. 20, 21, and vii. 11, 18). They do indicate a lower
stage of religious development, a less keen sense of sinfulness and of
sins, a less clear recognition of the worthlessness before God of all
man's goodness, than belong to Christian feeling. The same language when
spoken at one stage of revelation may be childlike and lowly, and be
swelling arrogance and self-righteous self-ignorance, if spoken at
another.

Such high and sweet communion cannot but breed profound distaste for
the society of evil-doers. The eyes which have God's loving-kindness
ever before them are endowed with penetrative clearness of vision into
the true hollowness of most of the objects pursued by men, and with a
terrible sagacity which detects hypocrisy and shams. Association with
such men is necessary, else we must needs go out of the world, and
leaven must be in contact with dough in order to do its transforming
work; but it is impossible for a man whose heart is truly in touch
with God not to feel ill at ease when brought into contact with those
who have no share in his deepest convictions and emotions. "Men of
vanity" is a general designation for the ungodly, pronouncing on every
such life the sentence that it is devoted to empty unrealities and
partakes of the nature of that to which it is given up. One who has
Jehovah's loving-kindness before his eyes cannot "sit" with such men
in friendly association, as if sharing their ways of thinking, nor
"go" with them in their course of conduct. "Those who mask themselves"
are another class, namely hypocrites who conceal their pursuit of
vanity under the show of religion. The psalmist's revulsion is
intensified in ver. 5 into "hate," because the evil-doers and sinners
spoken of there are of a deeper tint of blackness, and are banded
together in a "congregation," the opposite and parody of the
assemblies of the righteous, whom he feels to be his kindred. No doubt
separateness from evil-doers is but part of a godly man's duty, and
has often been exaggerated into selfish withdrawal from a world which
needs good men's presence all the more the worse it is; but it _is_ a
part of his duty, and "Come out from among them and be separate" is
not yet an abrogated command. No man will ever mingle with "men of
vanity," so as to draw them from the shadows of earth to the substance
in God, unless his loving association with them rests on profound
revulsion from their principles of action. None comes so near to
sinful men as the sinless Christ; and if He had not been ever
"separate from sinners," He would never have been near enough to
redeem them. We may safely imitate His free companionship, which
earned Him His glorious name of their Friend, if we imitate His
remoteness from their evil.

From the uncongenial companionship of the wicked the psalmist's
yearnings instinctively turn to his heart's home, the sanctuary. The
more a man feels out of sympathy with a godless world, the more
longingly he presses into the depths of communion with God; and,
conversely, the more he feels at home in still communion, the more
does the tumult of sense-bound crowds grate on his soul. The psalmist,
then, in the next group of verses (6, 7), opposes access to the house
of God and the solemn joy of thankful praises sounding there to the
loathed consorting with evil. He will not sit with men of vanity
because he will enter the sanctuary. Outward participation in its
worship may be included in his vows and wishes, but the tone of the
verses rather points to a symbolical use of the externalities of
ritual. Cleansing the hands alludes to priestly lustration; compassing
the altar is not known to have been a Jewish practice, and probably is
to be taken as simply a picturesque way of describing himself as one
of the joyous circle of worshippers; the sacrifice is praise. The
psalmist rises to the height of the true Israelite's priestly
vocation, and ritual has become transparent to him. None the less may
he have clung to the outwardnesses of ceremonial worship, because he
apprehended them in their highest significance and had learned that
the qualification of the worshipper was purity, and the best offering
praise. Well for those who, like him, are driven to the sanctuary by
the revulsion from vanities and from those who pursue them!

Ver. 8 is closely connected with the two preceding, but is perhaps
best united with the following verse, as being the ground of the
prayer there. Hate of the congregation of evil-doers has love to God's
house for its complement or foundation. The measure of attachment is
that of detachment. The designations of the sanctuary in ver. 8 show
the aspects in which it drew the psalmist's love. It was "the shelter
of Thy house," where he could hide himself from the strife of tongues
and escape the pain of herding with evil-doers; it was "the place of
the dwelling of Thy glory," the abode of that symbol of Divine
presence which flamed between the cherubim and lit the darkness of
the innermost shrine. Because the singer felt his true home to be
there, he prayed that his soul might not be gathered with sinners,
_i.e._ that he might not be involved in their fate. He has had no
fellowship with them in their evil, and therefore he asks that he may
be separate from them in their punishment. To "gather the soul" is
equivalent to taking away the life. God's judgments sort out
characters and bring like to like, as the tares are bound in bundles
or as, with so different a purpose, Christ made the multitudes sit
down by companies on the green sward. General judgments are not
indiscriminate. The prayer of the psalmist may not have looked beyond
exemption from calamities or from death, but the essence of the faith
which it expresses is eternally true: that distinction of attitude
towards God and goodness must secure distinction of lot, even though
external circumstances are identical. The same things are not the same
to men so profoundly different. The picture of the evil-doers from
whom the psalmist recoils is darker in these last verses than before.
It is evidently a portrait and points to a state of society in which
violence, outrage, and corruption were rampant. The psalmist washed
his hands in innocency, but these men had violence and bribes in
theirs. They were therefore persons in authority, prostituting
justice. The description fits too many periods too well to give a clue
to the date of the psalm.

Once more the consciousness of difference and the resolve not to be
like such men break forth in the closing couple of verses. The psalm
began with the profession that he had walked in his integrity; it ends
with the vow that he will. It had begun with the prayer "Judge me"; it
ends with the expansion of it into "Redeem me"--_i.e._, from existing
dangers, from evil-doers, or from their fate--and "Be gracious unto
me," the positive side of the same petition. He who purposes to walk
uprightly has the right to expect God's delivering and giving hand to
be extended to him. The resolve to walk uprightly unaccompanied with
the prayer for that hand to hold up is as rash as the prayer without
the resolve is vain. But if these two go together, quiet confidence
will steal into the heart; and though there be no change in
circumstances, the mood of mind will be so soothed and lightened that
the suppliant will feel that he has suddenly emerged from the steep
gorge where he had been struggling and shut up, and stands on the
level ground of the "shining table-lands, whereof our God Himself is
sun and moon." Such peaceful foretaste of coming security is the
forerunner which visits the faithful heart. Gladdened by it, the
psalmist is sure that his desire of compassing God's altar with praise
will be fulfilled, and that, instead of compulsory association with
the "congregation of evil-doers," he will bless Jehovah "in the
congregations" where His name is loved and find himself among those
who, like himself, delight in His praise.




                              PSALM XXVII.

   1  Jehovah is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear?
      Jehovah is the fortress of my life; for whom should I tremble?
   2  When evil-doers drew near against me, to devour my flesh,
      My oppressors and my foes, they stumbled and fell.
   3  Though a host encamp against me,
      My heart fears not;
      Though war rises against me,
      Even then am I confident.

   4  One thing have I asked from Jehovah; that will I seek:
      That I may dwell in the house of Jehovah all the days of my life,
      To gaze upon the pleasantness of Jehovah and to meditate in His
            palace.
   5  For He will hide me in a bower in the day of evil;
      He will secrete me in the secret of His tent;
      On a rock will He lift me.
   6  And now shall my head be lifted above my foes around me,
      And I will sacrifice in His tent sacrifices of joy;
      I will sing and I will harp to Jehovah.

   7  Hear, Jehovah, when I cry with my voice;
      And be gracious to me, and answer me.
   8  To Thee hath my heart said, (when Thou saidst) "Seek ye my face";
      That face of Thine, Jehovah, will I seek.
   9  Hide not Thy face from me:
      Repulse not Thy servant in anger;
      My help Thou hast been:
      Cast me not off, and forsake me not, O God of my salvation
  10  For my father and my mother have forsaken me;
      But Jehovah will take me up.

  11  Show me, Jehovah, Thy way,
      And lead me in a level path, because of those who lie in wait for
            me.
  12  Give me not up to the desire of my oppressors,
      For false witnesses have risen against me, and such as breathe out
            violence.
  13  If I had not believed that I should see the goodness of Jehovah
      In the land of the living----!
  14  Wait on Jehovah;
      Be strong, and let thine heart take courage, and wait on Jehovah.


The hypothesis that two originally distinct psalms or fragments are
here blended has much in its favour. The rhythm and style of the
latter half (ver. 7 to end) are strikingly unlike those of the former
part, and the contrast of feeling is equally marked, and is in the
opposite direction from that which is usual, since it drops from
exultant faith to at least plaintive, if not anxious, petition. But
while the phenomena are plain and remarkable, they do not seem to
demand the separation suggested. Form and rhythm are elastic in the
poet's hands, and change in correspondence with his change of mood.
The flowing melody of the earlier part is the natural expression of
its sunny confidence, and the harsher strains of the later verses fit
no less well their contents. Why may not the key change to a minor,
and yet the voice be the same? The fall from jubilant to suppliant
faith is not unexampled in other psalms (cf. ix. and xxv.), nor in
itself unnatural. Dangers, which for a moment cease to press, do
recur, however real the victory over fear has been, and in this
recrudescence of the consciousness of peril, which yet does not
loosen, but tighten, the grasp of faith, this ancient singer speaks
the universal experience; and his song becomes more precious and more
fitted for all lips than if it had been unmingled triumph. One can
better understand the original author passing in swift transition from
the one to the other tone, than a later editor deliberately appending
to a pure burst of joyous faith and aspiration a tag which flattened
it. The more unlike the two halves are, the less probable is it that
their union is owing to any but the author of both. The fire of the
original inspiration could fuse them into homogeneousness; it is
scarcely possible that a mechanical patcher should have done so. If,
then, we take the psalm as a whole, it gives a picture of the
transitions of a trustful soul surrounded by dangers, in which all
such souls may recognise their own likeness.

The first half (vv. 1-6) is the exultant song of soaring faith. But even
in it there sounds an undertone. The very refusal to be afraid glances
sideways at outstanding causes for fear. The very names of Jehovah as
"Light, Salvation," "the Stronghold of my life," imply darkness, danger,
and besetting foes. The resolve to keep alight the fire of courage and
confidence in the face of encamping foes and rising wars is much too
energetic to be mere hypothetical courage. The hopes of safety in
Jehovah's tent, of a firm standing on a rock, and of the head being
lifted above surrounding foes are not the hopes of a man at ease, but of
one threatened on all sides, and triumphant only because he clasps
Jehovah's hand. The first words of the psalm carry it all in germ. By a
noble dead-lift of confidence, the singer turns from foes and fears to
stay himself on Jehovah, his light and salvation, and then, in the
strength of that assurance, bids back his rising fears to their dens. "I
will trust, and not be afraid," confesses the presence of fear, and,
like our psalm, unveils the only reasonable counteraction of it in the
contemplation of what God is. There is much to fear unless He is our
light, and they who will not begin with the psalmist's confidence have
no right to repeat his courage.

To a devout man the past is eloquent with reasons for confidence, and
in ver. 2 the psalm points to a past fact. The stumbling and falling
of former foes, who came open-mouthed at him, is not a hypothetical
case, but a bit of autobiography, which lives to nourish present
confidence. It is worth notice that the language employed has
remarkable correspondence with that used in the story of David's fight
with Goliath. There the same word as here is twice employed to
describe the Philistine's advance (1 Sam. xvii. 41, 48). Goliath's
vaunt, "I will give thy flesh to the fowls of the air and to the
beasts of the field," may have supplied the mould for the expression
here, and the fall of the giant, with his face to the earth and the
smooth stone in his brain, is narrated with the same word as occurs in
the psalm. It might well be that when David was a fugitive before Saul
the remembrance of his victory over Goliath should have cheered him,
just as that of his earlier prowess against bear and lion heartened
him to face the Philistine bully; and such recollections would be all
the more natural since jealousy of the fame that came to him from that
feat had set the first light to Saul's hatred. Ver. 3 is not to be
left swinging _in vacuo_, a cheap vow of courage in hypothetical
danger. The supposed case is actual fact, and the expressions of trust
are not only assertions for the future, but statements of the present
temper of the psalmist: "I _do_ not fear; I _am_ confident."

The confidence of ver. 3 is rested not only on Jehovah's past acts,
but on the psalmist's past and present set of soul towards Him. That
seems to be the connecting link between vv. 1-3 and 4-6. Such desire,
the psalmist is sure, cannot but be answered, and in the answer all
safety is included. The purest longing after God, as the deepest,
most fixed yearning of a heart, was never more nobly expressed.
Clearly the terms forbid the limitation of meaning to mere external
presence in a material sanctuary. "All the days of my life" points to
a continuance inward and capable of accomplishment, wherever the body
may be. The exclusiveness and continuity of the longing, as well as
the gaze on God which is its true object, are incapable of the lower
meaning, while, no doubt, the externals of worship supply the mould
into which these longings are poured. But what the psalmist wants is
what the devout soul in all ages and stages has wanted: the abiding
consciousness of the Divine presence; and the prime good which makes
that presence so infinitely and exclusively desirable to him is the
good which draws all such souls in yearning, namely the vision of God.
The lifelong persistence and exclusiveness of the desire are such as
all must cherish if they are to receive its fruition. Blessed are they
who are delivered from the misery of multiplied and transient aims
which break life into fragments by steadfastly and continually
following one great desire, which binds all the days each to each, and
in its single simplicity encloses and hallows and unifies the else
distracting manifoldness! That life is filled with light, however it
may be ringed round with darkness, which has the perpetual vision of
God, who is its light. Very beautifully does the psalm describe the
occupation of God's guest as "gazing upon the pleasantness of
Jehovah." In that expression the construction of the verb with a
preposition implies a steadfast and penetrating contemplation, and the
word rendered "beauty" or "pleasantness" may mean "friendliness," but
is perhaps better taken in a more general meaning, as equivalent to
the whole gathered delightsomeness of the Divine character, the
supremely fair and sweet. "To inquire" may be rendered "to consider";
but the rendering "meditate [or contemplate] in" is better, as the
palace would scarcely be a worthy object of consideration; and it is
natural that the gaze on the goodness of Jehovah should be followed by
loving meditation on what that earnest look had seen. The two acts
complete the joyful employment of a soul communing with God: first
perceiving and then reflecting upon His uncreated beauty of goodness.

Such intimacy of communion brings security from external dangers. The
guest has a claim for protection. And that is a subsidiary reason for
the psalmist's desire as well as a ground of his confidence. Therefore
the assurance of ver. 5 follows the longing of ver. 4. "A pavilion,"
as the Hebrew text reads, has been needlessly corrected in the margin
into "His pavilion" (A.V.). "It is not God's dwelling, as the
following 'tent' is, but a booth ... as an image of protection from
heat and inclemency of weather (Isa. iv. 6)" (Hupfeld). God's dwelling
is a "tent," where He will shelter His guests. The privilege of asylum
is theirs. Then, with a swift change of figure, the psalmist expresses
the same idea of security by elevation on a rock, possibly conceiving
the tent as pitched there. The reality of all is that communion with
God secures from perils and enemies, an eternal truth, if the true
meaning of security is grasped. Borne up by such thoughts, the singer
feels himself lifted clear above the reach of surrounding foes, and,
with the triumphant "now" of ver. 6, stretches out his hand to bring
future deliverance into the midst of present distress. Faith can blend
the seasons, and transport June and its roses into December's snows.
Deliverance suggests thankfulness to a true heart, and its
anticipation calls out prophetic "songs in the night."

But the very brightness of the prospect recalls the stern reality of
present need, and the firmest faith cannot keep on the wing
continually. In the first part of the psalm it sings and soars; in the
second the note is less jubilant, and it sings and sinks; but in both
it is faith. Prayer for deliverance is as really the voice of faith as
triumph in the assurance of deliverance is, and he who sees his foes
and yet "believes to see the goodness of Jehovah" is not far below him
who gazes only on the beauty of the Lord. There is a parallelism
between the two halves of the psalm worth noting. In the former part
the psalmist's confidence reposed on the two facts of past deliverance
and of his past and continuous "seeking after" the one good; in the
second his prayers repose on the same two grounds, which occur in
inverted order. "That will I seek after" (ver. 4), is echoed by "Thy
face will I seek" (ver. 8). To seek the face is the same substantially
as to desire to "gaze on the pleasantness of Jehovah." The past
experience of the fall of foes (ver. 2) is repeated in "Thou hast been
my help." On these two pleas the prayer in which faith speaks itself
founds. The former is urged in vv. 8 and 9 with some harshness of
construction, which is smoothed over, rightly as regards meaning, in
the A.V. and R.V. But the very brokenness of the sentence adds to the
earnestness of the prayer: "To Thee my heart has said, Seek ye my
face; Thy face, Jehovah, will I seek." The answering heart repeats the
invitation which gave it courage to seek before it responds with its
resolve. The insertion of some such phrase as "in answer to Thy word"
before "seek ye" helps the sense in a translation, but mars the
vigour of the original. The invitation is not quoted from any
Scripture, but is the summary of the meaning of all God's
self-revelation. He is ever saying, "Seek ye my face." Therefore He
cannot but show it to a man who takes Him at His word and pleads that
word as the warrant for his petition. "I have never said to the seed
of Jacob, Seek ye my face in vain." The consistency of the Divine
character ensures His satisfying the desires which He has implanted.
He will neither stultify Himself nor tantalise men by setting them on
quests which end in disappointment. In a similar manner, the psalm
urges the familiar argument from God's past, which reposes on the
confidence of unalterable grace and inexhaustible resources. The
psalmist had no cold abstract doctrine of immutability as a Divine
attribute. His conception was intensely practical. Since God has
helped in the past, He will help in the future, because He is God, and
because He is "the God of my salvation." He cannot reverse His action
nor stay His hand until His dealings with His servants have vindicated
that name by completing the process to which it binds Him.

The prayer "Forsake me not" is based upon a remarkable ground in ver.
10: "For my father and my mother have forsaken me." That seems a
singular plea for a mature man, who has a considerably varied
experience of life behind him, to urge. It is generally explained as a
proverbial expression, meaning no more than the frequent complaints in
the Psalter of desertion by friends and lovers. Cheyne (Commentary in
loc.) sees in it a clear indication that the speaker is the afflicted
nation, comparing itself to a sobbing child deserted by its parents.
But it is at least noteworthy that, when David was hard pressed at
Adullam, he bestowed his father and mother for safety with the king of
Moab (1 Sam. xxi. 3, 4). It is objected that this was not their
"forsaking" him, but it was, at least, their "leaving" him, and might
well add an imaginative pang as well as a real loss to the fugitive.
So specific a statement as that of the psalm can scarcely be weakened
down into proverb or metaphor. The allusion may be undiscoverable, but
the words sound uncommonly like the assertion of a fact, and the fact
referred to is the only known one which in any degree fits them.

The general petitions of vv. 7-10 become more specific as the song
nears its close. As in Psalm xxv., guidance and protection are the
psalmist's needs now. The analogy of other psalms suggests an ethical
meaning for "the plain path" of ver. 11; and that signification,
rather than that of a safe road, is to be preferred, for the sake of
preserving a difference between this and the following prayer for
deliverance. The figures of his enemies stand out more threateningly
than before (ver. 12). Is that all his gain from his prayer? Is it not
a faint-hearted descent from ver. 6, where, from the height of his
Divine security, he looked down on them far below, and unable to reach
him? Now they have "risen up," and he has dropped down among them. But
such changes of mood are not inconsistent with unchanged faith, if
only the gaze which discerns the precipice at either side is not
turned away from the goal ahead and above, nor from Him who holds up
His servant. The effect of that clearer sight of the enemies is very
beautifully given in the abrupt half-sentence of ver. 13: "If I had
not believed to see the goodness of Jehovah in the land of the
living!" As he thinks of his foes, he breaks into an exclamation,
which he leaves unfinished. The omission is easy to supply. He would
have been their victim but for his faith. The broken words tell of his
recoil from the terrible possibility forced on him by the sight of the
formidable enemies. Well for us if we are but driven the closer to
God, in conscious helplessness, by the sight of dangers and
antagonisms! Faith does not falter, though it is keenly conscious of
difficulties. It is not preserved by ignoring facts, but should be by
them impelled to clasp God more firmly as its only safety.

So the psalm goes back to the major key at last, and in the closing
verse prayer passes into self-encouragement. The heart that spoke to
God now speaks to itself. Faith exhorts sense and soul to "wait on
Jehovah." The self-communing of the psalmist, beginning with exultant
confidence and merging into prayer thrilled with consciousness of need
and of weakness, closes with bracing him up to courage, which is not
presumption, because it is the fruit of waiting on the Lord. He who
thus keeps his heart in touch with God will be able to obey the
ancient command, which had rung so long before in the ears of Joshua
in the plains of Jericho and is never out of date, "Be strong and of a
good courage"; and none but those who wait on the Lord will be at once
conscious of weakness and filled with strength, aware of the foes and
bold to meet them.




                             PSALM XXVIII.

  1  Unto Thee, Jehovah, I cry;
     My Rock, be not deaf to me,
     Lest Thou be silent to me,
     And I become as those who go down to the pit.
  2  Hear the voice of my supplications in my crying to Thee for help,
     In my lifting my hands to Thy holy shrine.

  3  Drag me not away with wicked men, and with workers of iniquity,
     Speaking peace with their neighbours,
     And evil is in their hearts.
  4  Give them according to their doings and according to the evil of
            their deeds;
     According to the work of their hands give them;
     Return their desert to them.
  5  For they pay no heed to the doings of Jehovah
     Nor to the work of His hands;
     He shall cast them down, and not build them up.

  6  Blessed be Jehovah
     For He has heard the voice of my supplications.
  7  Jehovah is my fortress and my shield;
     In Him has my heart trusted, and I am helped;
     So my heart leaps [for joy], and by my song will I praise Him.

  8  Jehovah is their strength (or the strength of His people),
     And a fortress of salvation for His anointed is He.
  9  Save Thy people, and bless Thine inheritance
     And shepherd them, and carry them even for evermore.


The unquestionable resemblances to Psalm xxvi. scarcely require that
this should be considered its companion. The differences are as obvious
as the likenesses. While the prayer "Draw me not away with the wicked"
and the characterisation of these are alike in both, the further
emphatic prayer for retribution here and the closing half of this psalm
have nothing corresponding to them in the other. This psalm is built on
the familiar plan of groups of two verses each, with the exception that
the prayer, which is its centre, runs over into three. The course of
thought is as familiar as the structure. Invocation is followed by
petition, and that by exultant anticipation of the answer as already
given; and all closes with wider petitions for the whole people.

Vv. 1, 2, are a prelude to the prayer proper, bespeaking the Divine
acceptance of it, on the double ground of the psalmist's helplessness
apart from God's help and of his outstretched hands appealing to God
enthroned above the mercy-seat. He is in such straits that, unless his
prayer brings an answer in act, he must sink into the pit of Sheol,
and be made like those that lie huddled there in its darkness. On the
edge of the slippery <DW72>, he stretches out his hands toward the
innermost sanctuary (for so the word rendered, by a mistaken
etymology, "oracle" means). He beseeches God to hear, and blends the
two figures of deafness and silence as both meaning the withholding of
help. Jehovah seems deaf when prayer is unanswered, and is silent when
He does not speak in deliverance. This prelude of invocation throbs
with earnestness, and sets the pattern for suppliants, teaching them
how to quicken their own desires as well as how to appeal to God by
breathing to Him their consciousness that only His hand can keep them
from sliding down into death.

The prayer itself (vv. 3-5) touches lightly on the petition that the
psalmist may be delivered from the fate of the wicked, and then launches
out into indignant description of their practices and solemn invocation
of retribution upon them. "Drag away" is parallel with, but stronger
than, "Gather not" in xxvi. 9. Commentators quote Job xxiv. 22, where
the word is used of God's dragging the mighty out of life by His power,
as a struggling criminal is haled to the scaffold. The shuddering recoil
from the fate of the wicked is accompanied with vehement loathing of
their practices. A man who keeps his heart in touch with God cannot but
shrink, as from a pestilence, from complicity with evil, and the depth
of his hearty hatred of it is the measure of his right to ask that he
may not share in the ruin it must bring, since God is righteous. One
type of evil-doers is the object of the psalmist's special abhorrence:
false friends with smooth tongues and daggers in their sleeves, the
"dissemblers" of Psalm xxvi.; but he passes to the more general
characterisation of the class, in his terrible prayer for retribution,
in vv. 4, 5. The sin of sins, from which all specific acts of evil flow,
is blindness to God's "deeds" and to "the work of His hands," His acts
both of mercy and of judgment. Practical atheism, the indifference which
looks upon nature, history, and self, and sees no signs of a mighty hand
tender, pure, and strong, ever active in them all, will surely lead the
purblind "Agnostics" to do "works of their hands" which, for lack of
reference to Him, fail to conform to the highest ideal and draw down
righteous judgment. But the blindness to God's work here meant is that
of an averted will rather than that of mistaken understanding, and from
the stem of such a thorn the grapes of holy living cannot be gathered.
Therefore the psalmist is but putting into words the necessary result of
such lives when from suppliant he becomes prophet, and declares that "He
shall cast them down, and not build them up." The stern tone of this
prayer marks it as belonging to the older type of religion, and its
dissimilarity to the New Testament teaching is not to be slurred over.
No doubt the element of personal enmity is all but absent, but it is not
the prayer which those who have heard "Father, forgive them," are to
copy. Yet, on the other hand, the wholesome abhorrence of evil, the
solemn certitude that sin is death, the desire that it may cease from
the world, and the lowly petition that it may not drag us into fatal
associations are all to be preserved in Christian feeling, while
softened by the light that falls from Calvary.

As in many psalms, the faith which prays passes at once into the faith
which possesses. This man, when he "stood praying, believed that he
had what he asked," and, so believing, had it. There was no change in
circumstances, but he was changed. There is no fear of going down into
the pit now, and the rabble of evil-doers have disappeared. This is
the blessing which every true suppliant may bear away from the throne,
the peace which passeth understanding, the sure pledge of the Divine
act which answers prayer. It is the first gentle ripple of the
incoming tide; high water is sure to come at the due hour. So the
psalmist is exuberant and happily tautological in telling how his
trusting heart has become a leaping heart, and help has been flashed
back from heaven as swiftly as his prayer had travelled thither.

The closing strophe (vv. 8, 9) is but loosely connected with the body of
the psalm except on one supposition. What if the singer were king over
Israel, and if the dangers threatening him were public perils? That
would explain the else singular attachment of intercession for Israel to
so intensely personal a supplication. It is most natural that God's
"anointed," who has been asking deliverance for himself, should widen
his petitions to take in that flock of which he was but the
under-shepherd, and should devolve the shepherding and carrying of it on
the Divine Shepherd-King, of whom he was the shadowy representative. The
addition of one letter changes "their" in ver. 8 into "to His people," a
reading which has the support of the LXX. and of some manuscripts and
versions and is recommended by its congruity with the context. Cheyne's
suggestion that "His anointed" is the high-priest is only conjecture.
The reference of the expression to the king who is also the psalmist
preserves the unity of the psalm. The Christian reader cannot but think
of the true King and Intercessor, whose great prayer before His passion
began, like our psalm, with petitions for Himself, but passed into
supplication for His little flock and for all the unnumbered millions
"who should believe on" Him "through their word."




                              PSALM XXIX.

   1  Give to Jehovah, ye sons of God,
      Give to Jehovah glory and strength.
   2  Give to Jehovah the glory of His name;
      Bow down to Jehovah in holy attire.

   3  The voice of Jehovah is upon the waters;
      The God of glory thunders;
      Jehovah is on many waters.
   4  The voice of Jehovah is with power;
      The voice of Jehovah is with majesty.

   5  The voice of Jehovah shivers the cedars;
      Yea, Jehovah shivers the cedars of Lebanon,
   6  And makes them leap like a calf,
      Lebanon and Sirion like a young wild ox.
   7  The voice of Jehovah hews out flames of fire.

   8  The voice of Jehovah shakes the wilderness;
      Jehovah shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.
   9  The voice of Jehovah makes the hinds calve, and strips the woods:
      And in His palace every one is saying, Glory!

  10  Jehovah sat enthroned for the Flood;
      And Jehovah sits King for ever.
  11  Jehovah will give strength to His people;
      Jehovah will bless His people with peace.


The core of this psalm is the magnificent description of the
thunderstorm rolling over the whole length of the land. That picture
is framed by two verses of introduction and two of conclusion, which
are connected, inasmuch as the one deals with the "glory to God in the
highest" which is the echo of the tempest in angels' praises, and the
other with the "peace on earth" in which its thunders die away.

The invocation in vv. 1, 2, is addressed to angels, whatever may be
the exact rendering of the remarkable title by which they are summoned
in ver. 1. It is all but unique, and the only other instance of its
use (Psalm lxxxix. 6) establishes its meaning, since "holy ones" is
there given as synonymous in the verses preceding and following. The
most probable explanation of the peculiar phrase (B'ne Elim) is that
of Gesenius, Ewald, Delitzsch, and Riehm in his edition of Hupfeld's
Commentary: that it is a double plural, both members of the compound
phrase being inflected. Similarly "mighty men of valour" (1 Chron.
vii. 5) has the second noun in the plural. This seems more probable
than the rendering "sons of the gods." The psalmist summons these
lofty beings to "give" glory and strength to Jehovah, that is, to
ascribe to Him the attributes manifested in His acts, or, as ver. 2
puts it, "the glory of His name," _i.e._, belonging to His character
as thus revealed. The worship of earth is regarded as a type of that
of heaven, and as here, so there, they who bow before Him are to be
clothed in "holy attire." The thought underlying this ringing summons
is that even angels learn the character of God from the exhibitions of
His power in the Creation, and as they sang together for joy at first,
still attend its manifestations with adoration. The contrast of their
praise with the tumult and terror on earth, while the thunder growls
in the sky, is surely not unintended. It suggests the different
aspects of God's dread deeds as seen by them and by men, and carries a
tacit lesson true of all calamities and convulsions. The thunder-cloud
hangs boding in its piled blue blackness to those who from beneath
watch the slow crumbling away of its torn edges and the ominous
movements in its sullen heart or hear the crashes from its depths,
but, seen from above, it is transfigured by the light that falls on
its upper surface; and it stretches placid before the throne, like the
sea of glass mingled with fire. Whatever may be earth's terror,
heaven's echo of God's thunders is praise.

Then the storm bursts. We can hear it rolling in the short periods,
mostly uniform in structure and grouped in verses of two clauses each,
the second of which echoes the first, like the long-drawn roll that
pauses, slackens, and yet persists. Seven times "the voice of Jehovah"
is heard, like the apocalyptic "seven thunders before the throne." The
poet's eye travels with the swift tempest, and his picture is full of
motion, sweeping from the waters above the firmament to earth and from
the northern boundary of the land to the far south. First we hear the
mutterings in the sky (ver. 3). If we understood "the waters" as
meaning the Mediterranean, we should have the picture of the storm
working up from the sea; but it is better to take the expression as
referring to the super-terrestrial reservoirs or the rain flood stored
in the thunder-clouds. Up there the peals roll before their fury
shakes the earth. It was not enough in the poet's mind to call the
thunder the voice of Jehovah, but it must be brought into still closer
connection with Him by the plain statement that it is He who
"thunders" and who rides on the storm-clouds as they hurry across the
sky. To catch tones of a Divine voice, full of power and majesty, in a
noise so entirely explicable as a thunderclap, is, no doubt,
unscientific; but the Hebrew contemplation of nature is occupied with
another set of ideas than scientific, and is entirely unaffected by
these. The psalmist had no notion of the physical cause of thunder,
but there is no reason why a man who can make as much electricity as
he wants by the grinding of a dynamo and then use it to carry his
trivial messages should not repeat the psalmist's devout assertion. We
can assimilate all that physicists can tell us, and then, passing into
another region, can hear Jehovah speaking in thunder. The psalm begins
where science leaves off.

While the psalmist speaks the swift tempest has come down with a roar
and a crash on the northern mountains, and Lebanon and "Sirion" (a
Sidonian name for Hermon) reel, and the firm-boled, stately cedars are
shivered. The structure of the verses already noticed, in which the
second clause reduplicates, with some specialising, the thought of the
first, makes it probable that in ver. 6 _a_ the mountains, and not the
cedars, are meant by them. The trees are broken; the mountains shake.
An emendation has been proposed, by which "Lebanon" should be
transferred from ver. 5 to ver. 6 and substituted for "them" so as to
bring out this meaning more smoothly, but the roughness of putting the
pronoun in the first clause and the nouns to which it refers in the
second is not so considerable as to require the change. The image of
the mountains "skipping" sounds exaggerated to Western ears, but is
not infrequent in Scripture, and in the present instance is simply a
strong way of expressing the violence of the storm, which seems even
to shake the steadfast mountains that keep guard over the furthest
borders of the land. Nor are we to forget that here there may be some
hint of a parable in nature. The heights are thunder-smitten; the
valleys are safe. "The day of the Lord shall be upon all the cedars of
Lebanon that are high and lifted up, ... and upon all the high
mountains" (Isa. ii. 13, 14).

The two-claused verses are interrupted by one of a single clause (ver.
7), the brevity of which vividly suggests the suddenness and speed of
the flash: "The voice of Jehovah cleaves [or, hews out] fire flames."
The thunder is conceived of as the principal phenomenon and as creating
the lightning, as if it hewed out the flash from the dark mass of cloud.
A corrected accentuation of this short verse divides it into three
parts, perhaps representing the triple zigzag; but in any case the one
solitary, sudden fork, blazing fiercely for a moment and then swallowed
up in the gloom, is marvellously given. It is further to be noted that
this single lightning gleam parts the description of the storm into two,
the former part painting it as in the north, the latter as in the
extreme south. It has swept over the whole length of the land, while we
have been watching the flash. Now it is rolling over the wide plain of
the southern desert. The precise position of Kadesh is keenly debated,
but it was certainly in the eastern part of the desert region on the
southern border. It, too, shakes, low-lying as it is; and far and wide
over its uninhabited levels the tempest ranges. Its effects there are
variously understood. The parallelism of clauses and the fact that
nowhere else in the picture is animal life introduced give great
probability to the very slight alteration required in ver. 9 _a_, in
order to yield the rendering "pierces the oaks" (Cheyne), instead of
"makes the hinds calve" which harmonises admirably with the next clause;
but, on the other hand, the premature dropping of the young of wild
animals from fear is said to be an authentic fact, and gives a
defensible trait to the picture, which is perhaps none the less striking
for the introduction of one small piece of animated nature. In any case
the next clause paints the dishevelled forest trees, with scarred bark,
broken boughs, and strewn leaves, after the fierce roar and flash, wind
and rain, have swept over them. The southern border must have been very
unlike its present self, or the poet's thoughts must have travelled
eastwards, among the oaks on the other side of the Arabah, if the local
colouring of ver. 9 is correct.

While tumult of storm and crash of thunder have been raging and
rolling below, the singer hears "a deeper voice across the storm," the
songs of the "sons of God" in the temple palace above, chanting the
praise to which he had summoned them. "In His temple every one is
saying, Glory!" That is the issue of all storms. The clear eyes of the
angels see, and their "loud uplifted trumpets" celebrate, the lustrous
self-manifestation of Jehovah, who rides upon the storm, and makes the
rush of the thunder minister to the fruitfulness of earth.

But what of the effects down here? The concluding strophe (vv. 10, 11)
tells. Its general sense is clear, though the first clause of ver. 10
is ambiguous. The source of the difficulty in rendering is twofold.
The preposition may mean "for"--_i.e._, in order to bring about--or,
according to some, "on," or "above," or "at." The word rendered
"flood" is only used elsewhere in reference to the Noachic deluge, and
here has the definite article, which is most naturally explained as
fixing the reference to that event; but it has been objected that the
allusion would be far-fetched and out of place, and therefore the
rendering "rain-storm" has been suggested. In the absence of any
instance of the word's being used for anything but the Deluge, it is
safest to retain that meaning here. There must, however, be combined
with that rendering an allusion to the torrents of thunder rain,
which closed the thunderstorm. These could scarcely be omitted. They
remind the singer of the downpour that drowned the world, and his
thought is that just as Jehovah "sat"--_i.e._, solemnly took His place
as King and Judge--in order to execute that act of retribution, so, in
all subsequent smaller acts of an analogous nature, He "will sit
enthroned for ever." The supremacy of Jehovah over all transient
tempests and the judicial punitive nature of these are the thoughts
which the storm has left with him. It has rolled away; God, who sent
it, remains throned above nature and floods: they are His ministers.

And all ends with a sweet, calm word, assuring Jehovah's people of a
share in the "strength" which spoke in the thunder, and, better still,
of peace. That close is like the brightness of the glistening earth,
with freshened air, and birds venturing to sing once more, and a sky
of deeper blue, and the spent clouds low and harmless on the horizon.
Beethoven has given the same contrast between storm and after-calm in
the music of the Pastoral Symphony. Faith can listen to the wildest
crashing thunder in quiet confidence that angels are saying, "Glory!"
as each peal rolls, and that when the last, low mutterings are hushed,
earth will smile the brighter, and deeper peace will fall on trusting
hearts.




                               PSALM XXX.

   1  Thee will I exalt, Jehovah, for me hast Thou lifted up,
      And not made my foes rejoice over me.
   2  Jehovah, my God,
      I cried loudly to Thee, and Thou healedst me.
   3  Jehovah, Thou hast brought up from Sheol my soul;
      Thou hast revived me from among those who descend to the pit.

   4  Make music to Jehovah, ye who are favoured by Him;
      And thank His holy Name.
   5  For a moment passes in His anger,
      A life in His favour;
      In the evening comes weeping as a guest,
      And at morn [there is] a shout of joy.

   6  But I--I said in my security,
      I shall not be moved for ever.
   7  Jehovah, by Thy favour Thou hadst established strength to my
            mountain;
      Thou didst hide Thy face: I was troubled.

   8  To Thee, Jehovah, I cried;
      And to the Lord I made supplication.
   9  "What profit is in my blood when I descend to the pit?
      Can dust thank Thee? can it declare Thy faithfulness?
  10  Hear, Jehovah, and be gracious to me;
      Jehovah, be my Helper!"

  11  Thou didst turn for me my mourning to dancing;
      Thou didst unloose my sackcloth and gird me with gladness,
  12  To the end that [my] glory should make music to Thee, and not be
            silent:
      Jehovah, my God, for ever will I thank Thee.


The title of this psalm is apparently a composite, the usual "Psalm of
David" having been enlarged by the awkward insertion of "A Song at the
Dedication of the House," which probably indicates its later
liturgical use, and not its first destination. Its occasion was
evidently a deliverance from grave peril; and, whilst its tone is
strikingly inappropriate if it had been composed for the inauguration
of temple, tabernacle, or palace, one can understand how the venerable
words, which praised Jehovah for swift deliverance from impending
destruction, would be felt to fit the circumstances and emotions of
the time when the Temple, profaned by the mad acts of Antiochus
Epiphanes, was purified and the ceremonial worship restored. Never had
Israel seemed nearer going down to the pit; never had deliverance come
more suddenly and completely. The intrusive title is best explained as
dating from that time and indicating the use then found for the song.

It is an outpouring of thankfulness, and mainly a leaf from the
psalmist's autobiography, interrupted only by a call to all who share
Jehovah's favour to help the single voice to praise Him (vv. 4, 5).
The familiar arrangement in pairs of verses is slightly broken twice,
vv. 1-3 being linked together as a kind of prelude and vv. 8-10 as a
repetition of the singer's prayer. His praise breaks the barrier of
silence and rushes out in a flood. The very first word tells of his
exuberant thankfulness, and stands in striking relation to God's act
which evokes it. Jehovah has raised him from the very sides of the
pit, and therefore what shall he do but exalt Jehovah by praise and
commemoration of His deeds? The song runs over in varying expressions
for the one deliverance, which is designated as lifting up,
disappointment of the malignant joy of enemies, healing, rescue from
Sheol and the company who descend thither, by restoration to life.
Possibly the prose fact was recovery from sickness, but the metaphor
of healing is so frequent that the literal use of the word here is
questionable. As Calvin remarks, sackcloth (ver. 11) is not a sick
man's garb. These glad repetitions of the one thought in various forms
indicate how deeply moved the singer was, and how lovingly he brooded
over his deliverance. A heart truly penetrated with thankfulness
delights to turn its blessings round and round, and see how prismatic
lights play on their facets, as on revolving diamonds. The same warmth
of feeling, which glows in the reiterated celebration of deliverance,
impels to the frequent direct mention of Jehovah. Each verse has that
name set on it as a seal, and the central one of the three (ver. 2),
not content with it only, grasps Him as "my God," manifested as such
with renewed and deepened tenderness by the recent fact that "I cried
loudly unto Thee, and Thou healedst me." The best result of God's
goodness is a firmer assurance of a personal relation to Him. "This is
an enclosure of a common without damage: to make God mine own, to find
that all that God says is spoken to me" (Donne). The stress of these
three verses lies on the reiterated contemplation of God's fresh act
of mercy and on the reiterated invocation of His name, which is not
vain repetition, but represents distinct acts of consciousness,
drawing near to delight the soul in thoughts of Him. The psalmist's
vow of praise and former cry for help could not be left out of view,
since the one was the condition and the other the issue of
deliverance, but they are slightly touched. Such claiming of God for
one's own and such absorbing gaze on Him are the intended results of
His deeds, the crown of devotion, and the repose of the soul.

True thankfulness is expansive, and joy craves for sympathy. So the
psalmist invites other voices to join his song, since he is sure that
others there are who have shared his experience. It has been but one
instance of a universal law. He is not the only one whom Jehovah has
treated with loving-kindness, and he would fain hear a chorus
supporting his solo. Therefore he calls upon "the favoured of God" to
swell the praise with harp and voice and to give thanks to His "holy
memorial," _i.e._ the name by which His deeds of grace are
commemorated. The ground of their praise is the psalmist's own case
generalised. A tiny mirror may reflect the sun, and the humblest
person's history, devoutly pondered, will yield insight into God's
widest dealings. This, then, is what the psalmist had learned in
suffering, and wishes to teach in song: that sorrow is transient and
joy perennial. A cheerful optimism should be the fruit of experience,
and especially of sorrowful experience. The antitheses in ver. 5 are
obvious. In the first part of the verse "anger" and "favour" are
plainly contrasted, and it is natural to suppose that "a moment" and
"life" are so too. The rendering, then, is, "A moment passes in His
anger, a life [_i.e._, a lifetime] in His favour." Sorrow is brief;
blessings are long. Thunderstorms occupy but a small part of summer.
There is usually less sickness than health in a life. But memory and
anticipation beat out sorrow thin, so as to cover a great space. A
little solid matter, diffused by currents, will discolour miles of a
stream. Unfortunately we have better memories for trouble than for
blessing, and the smart of the rose's prickles lasts longer in the
flesh than its fragrance in the nostril or its hue in the eye. But the
relation of ideas here is not merely that of contrast. May we not say
that just as the "moment" is included in the "life," so the "anger" is
in the "favour"? Probably that application of the thought was not
present to the psalmist, but it is an Old Testament belief that "whom
the Lord loveth He chasteneth," and God's anger is the aversion of
holy love to its moral opposite. Hence comes the truth that varying
and sometimes opposite Divine methods have one motive and one purpose,
as the same motion of the earth brings summer and winter in turn.
Since the desire of God is to make men partakers of His holiness, the
root of chastisement is love, and hours of sorrow are not
interruptions of the continuous favour which fills the life.

A like double antithesis moulds the beautiful image of the last clause.
Night and morning are contrasted, as are weeping and joy; and the latter
contrast is more striking, if it be observed that "joy" is literally a
"joyful shout," raised by the voice that had been breaking into audible
weeping. The verb used means to lodge for a night, and thus the whole is
a picture of two guests, the one coming, sombre-robed, in the hour
befitting her, the other, bright-garmented, taking the place of the
former, when all things are dewy and sunny, in the morning. The thought
may either be that of the substitution of joy for sorrow, or of the
transformation of sorrow into joy. No grief lasts in its first
bitterness. Recuperative forces begin to tell by slow degrees. "The low
beginnings of content" appear. The sharpest-cutting edge is partially
blunted by time and what it brings. Tender green drapes every ruin.
Sorrow is transformed into something not undeserving of the name of joy.
Griefs accepted change their nature. "Your sorrow shall be turned into
joy." The man who in the darkness took in the dark guest to sit by his
fireside finds in the morning that she is transfigured, and her name is
Gladness. Rich vintages are gathered on the crumbling lava of the
quiescent volcano. Even for irremediable losses and immedicable griefs,
the psalmist's prophecy is true, only that for these "the morning" is
beyond earth's dim dawns, and breaks when this night which we call life,
and which is wearing thin, is past. In the level light of that sunrise,
every raindrop becomes a rainbow, and every sorrow rightly--that is,
submissively--borne shall be represented by a special and particular
joy.

But the thrilling sense of recent deliverance runs in too strong a
current to be long turned aside, even by the thought of others'
praise; and the personal element recurs in ver. 6, and persists till
the close. This latter part falls into three well-marked minor
divisions: the confession of self-confidence, bred of ease and
shattered by chastisement, in vv. 6, 7; the prayer of the man startled
into renewed dependence in vv. 8-10; and the closing reiterated
commemoration of mercies received and vow of thankful praise, which
echoes the first part, in vv. 11, 12.

In ver. 6 the psalmist's foolish confidence is emphatically contrasted
with the truth won by experience and stated in ver. 5. "The law of
God's dealings is so, but I--I thought so and so." The word rendered
"prosperity" may be taken as meaning also security. The passage from
the one idea to the other is easy, inasmuch as calm days lull men to
sleep, and make it hard to believe that "to-morrow shall" not "be as
this day." Even devout hearts are apt to count upon the continuance of
present good. "Because they have no changes, therefore they fear not
God." The bottom of the crater of Vesuvius had once great trees
growing, the produce of centuries of quiescence. It would be difficult
to think, when looking at them, that they would ever be torn up and
whirled aloft in flame by a new outburst. While continual peril and
change may not foster remembrance of God, continuous peace is but too
apt to lull to forgetfulness of Him. The psalmist was beguiled by
comfort into saying precisely what "the wicked said in his heart"
(Psalm x. 6). How different may be the meaning of the same words on
different lips! The mad arrogance of the godless man's confidence, the
error of the good man rocked to sleep by prosperity, and the warranted
confidence of a trustful soul are all expressed by the same words; but
the last has an addition which changes the whole: "_Because He is at
my right hand_, I shall not be moved." The end of the first man's
boast can only be destruction; that of the third's faith will
certainly be "pleasures for evermore"; that of the second's lapse from
dependence is recorded in ver. 7. The sudden crash of his false
security is graphically reproduced by the abrupt clauses without
connecting particles. It was the "favour" already celebrated which
gave the stability which had been abused. Its effect is described in
terms of which the general meaning is clear, though the exact
rendering is doubtful. "Thou hast [or hadst] established strength to
my mountain" is harsh, and the proposed emendation (Hupfeld, Cheyne,
etc.), "hast set me on strong mountains," requires the addition to the
text of the pronoun. In either case, we have a natural metaphor for
prosperity. The emphasis lies on the recognition that it was God's
work, a truth which the psalmist had forgotten and had to be taught by
the sudden withdrawal of God's countenance, on which followed his own
immediate passage from careless security to agitation and alarm. The
word "troubled" is that used for Saul's conflicting emotions and
despair in the witch's house at Endor, and for the agitation of
Joseph's brethren when they heard that the man who had their lives in
his hand was their wronged brother. Thus alarmed and filled with
distracting thoughts was the psalmist. "Thou didst hide Thy face,"
describes his calamities in their source. When the sun goes in, an
immediate gloom wraps the land, and the birds cease to sing. But the
"trouble" was preferable to "security," for it drove to God. Any
tempest which does that is better than calm which beguiles from Him;
and, since all His storms are meant to "drive us to His breast," they
come from His "favour."

The approach to God is told in vv. 8-10, of which the two latter are a
quotation of the prayer then wrung from the psalmist. The ground of
this appeal for deliverance from a danger threatening life is as in
Hezekiah's prayer (Isa. xxxviii. 18, 19), and reflects the same
conception of the state of the dead as Psalm vi. 5. If the suppliant
dies, his voice will be missed from the chorus which sings God's
praise on earth. "The dust" (_i.e._, the grave) is a region of
silence. Here, where life yielded daily proofs of God's "truth"
(_i.e._, faithfulness), it could be extolled, but there dumb tongues
could bring Him no "profit" of praise. The boldness of the thought
that God is in some sense advantaged by men's magnifying of His
faithfulness, the cheerless gaze into the dark realm, and the
implication that to live is desired not only for the sake of life's
joys, but in order to show forth God's dealings, are all remarkable.
The tone of the prayer indicates the imperfect view of the future life
which shadows many psalms, and could only be completed by the
historical facts of the Resurrection and Ascension. Concern for the
honour of the Old Testament revelation may, in this matter, be
stretched to invalidate the distinctive glory of the New, which has
"brought life and immortality to light."

With quick transition, corresponding to the swiftness of the answer to
prayer, the closing pair of verses tells of the instantaneous change
which that answer wrought. As in the earlier metaphor weeping was
transformed into joy, here mourning is turned into dancing, and God's
hand unties the cord which loosely bound the sackcloth robe, and arrays
the mourner in festival attire. The same conception of the sweetness of
grateful praise to the ear of God which was presented in the prayer
recurs here, where the purpose of God's gifts is regarded as being man's
praise. The thought may be construed so as to be repulsive, but its true
force is to present God as desiring hearts' love and trust, and as
"seeking such to worship Him," because therein they will find supreme
and abiding bliss. "My glory," that wonderful personal being, which in
its lowest debasement retains glimmering reflections caught from God, is
never so truly glory as when it "sings praise to Thee," and never so
blessed as when, through a longer "for ever" than the psalmist saw
stretching before him, it "gives thanks unto Thee."




                              PSALM XXXI.

   1  In Thee, Jehovah, have I taken refuge: let me never be ashamed;
      In Thy righteousness deliver me.
   2  Bend down Thine ear to me: speedily extricate me;
      Be to me for a refuge-rock, for a fortress-house, to save me.
   3  For my rock and my fortress art Thou,
      And for Thy name's sake wilt guide me and lead me.
   4  Thou wilt bring me from the net which they have hidden for me,
      For Thou art my defence.

   5  Into Thy hand I commend my spirit;
      Thou hast redeemed me, Jehovah, God of faithfulness.
   6  I hate the worshippers of empty nothingnesses;
      And I--to Jehovah do I cling.
   7  I will exult and be joyful in Thy loving-kindness,
      Who hast beheld my affliction,
      [And] hast taken note of the distresses of my soul,
   8  And hast not enclosed me in the hand of the enemy;
      Thou hast set my feet at large.

   9  Be merciful to me, Jehovah, for I am in straits;
      Wasted away in grief is my eye,--my soul and my body.
  10  For my life is consumed with sorrow,
      And my years with sighing;
      My strength reels because of mine iniquity,
      And my bones are wasted.
  11  Because of all my adversaries I am become a reproach
      And to my neighbours exceedingly, and a fear to my acquaintances;
      They who see me without flee from me.
  12  I am forgotten, out of mind, like a dead man;
      I am like a broken vessel.
  13  For I hear the whispering of many,
      Terror on every side;
      In their consulting together against me,
      To take away my life do they scheme.
  14  And I--on Thee I trust, Jehovah;
      I say, My God art Thou.
  15  In Thy hand are my times;
      Rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my pursuers.
  16  Make Thy face to shine upon Thy servant;
      Save me in Thy loving-kindness.
  17  Jehovah, I shall not be shamed, for I cry to Thee;
      The wicked shall be shamed, shall be silent in Sheol.
  18  Dumb shall the lying lips be made,
      That speak arrogance against the righteous,
      In pride and contempt.

  19  How great is Thy goodness which Thou dost keep in secret for them
            who fear Thee,
      Dost work before the sons of men for them who take refuge in Thee.
  20  Thou dost shelter them in the shelter of Thy face from the plots
            of men;
      Thou keepest them in secret in an arbour from the strife of
            tongues.
  21  Blessed be Jehovah,
      For He has done marvels of loving-kindness for me in a strong
            city!
  22  And I--I said in my agitation, I am cut off from before Thine
            eyes,
      But truly Thou didst hear the voice of my supplication in my
            crying aloud to Thee.
  23  Love Jehovah, all His beloved;
      Jehovah keeps faithfulness,
      And repays overflowingly him that practises pride.
  24  Be strong, and let your heart take courage,
      All ye that wait on Jehovah.


The swift transitions of feeling in this psalm may seem strange to
colder natures whose lives run smoothly, but reveal a brother-soul to
those who have known what it is to ride on the top of the wave and then
to go down into its trough. What is peculiar to the psalm is not only
the inclusion of the whole gamut of feeling, but the force with which
each key is struck and the persistence through all of the one ground
tone of cleaving to Jehovah. The poetic temperament passes quickly from
hope to fear. The devout man in sorrow can sometimes look away from a
darkened earth to a bright sky, but the stern realities of pain and loss
again force themselves in upon him. The psalm is like an April day, in
which sunshine and rain chase each other across the plain.

          "The beautiful uncertain weather,
           Where gloom and glory meet together,"

makes the landscape live, and is the precursor of fruitfulness.

The stream of the psalmist's thoughts now runs in shadow of grim
cliffs and vexed by opposing rocks, and now opens out in sunny
stretches of smoothness; but its source is "In Thee, Jehovah, do I
take refuge" (ver. 1): and its end is "Be strong, and let your heart
take courage, all ye that wait for Jehovah" (ver. 24).

The first turn of the stream is in vv. 1-4, which consist of petitions
and their grounds. The prayers reveal the suppliant's state. They are
the familiar cries of an afflicted soul common to many psalms, and
presenting no special features. The needs of the human heart are
uniform, and the cry of distress is much alike on all lips. This
sufferer asks, as his fellows have done and will do, for deliverance, a
swift answer, shelter and defence, guidance and leading, escape from the
net spread for him. These are the commonplaces of prayer, which God is
not wearied of hearing, and which fit us all. The last place to look for
originality is in the "sighing of such as be sorrowful." The pleas on
which the petitions rest are also familiar. The man who trusts in
Jehovah has a right to expect that his trust will not be put to shame,
since God is faithful. Therefore the first plea is the psalmist's faith,
expressed in ver. 1 by the word which literally means to flee to a
refuge. The fact that he has done so makes his deliverance a work of
God's "righteousness." The metaphor latent in "flee for refuge" comes
into full sight in that beautiful plea in ver. 3, which unsympathetic
critics would call illogical, "_Be_ for me a refuge-rock, for ... Thou
_art_ my rock." Be what Thou art; manifest Thyself in act to be what
Thou art in nature: be what I, Thy poor servant, have taken Thee to be.
My heart has clasped Thy revelation of Thyself and fled to this strong
tower. Let me not be deceived and find it incapable of sheltering me
from my foes. "Therefore for Thy name's sake," or because of that
revelation and for its glory as true in men's sight, deliver me. God's
nature as revealed is the strongest plea with Him, and surely that
cannot but be potent and acceptable prayer which says, Be what Thou art,
and what Thou hast taught me to believe Thee.

Vv. 5-8 prolong the tone of the preceding, with some difference,
inasmuch as God's past acts are more specifically dwelt on as the
ground of confidence. In this turn of the stream, faith does not so
much supplicate as meditate, plucking the flower of confidence from
the nettle of past dangers and deliverances, and renewing its acts of
surrender. The sacred words which Jesus made His own on the cross, and
which have been the last utterance of so many saints, were meant by
the psalmist to apply to life, not to death. He laid his spirit as a
precious deposit in God's hand, assured that He was able to keep that
which was committed to Him. Often had he done this before, and now he
does it once more. Petitions pass into surrender. Resignation as well
as confidence speaks. To lay one's life in God's hand is to leave the
disposal of it to Him, and such absolute submission must come as the
calm close and incipient reward of every cry for deliverance. Trust
should not be hard to those who can remember. So Jehovah's past
redemptions--_i.e._, deliverances from temporal dangers--are its
ground here; and these avail as pledges for the future, since He is
"the God of truth," who can never falsify His past. The more
nestlingly a soul clings to God, the more vehemently will it recoil
from other trust. Attraction and repulsion are equal and contrary. The
more clearly it sees God's faithfulness and living power as a reality
operating in its life, the more penetrating will be its detection of
the falseness of other helpers. "Nothingnesses of emptiness" are they
all to one who has felt the clasp of that great, tender hand; and
unless the soul feels them to be such, it will never strongly clutch
or firmly hold its true stay. Such trust has its crown in joyful
experience of God's mercy even before the actual deliverance comes to
pass, as wind-borne fragrance meets the traveller before he sees the
spice gardens from which it comes. The cohortative verbs in ver. 7 may
be petition ("Let me exult"), or they may be anticipation of future
gladness, but in either case some waft of joy has already reached the
singer, as how could it fail to do, when his faith was thus renewing
itself, and his eyes gazing on God's deeds of old? The past tenses in
vv. 7, 8, refer to former experiences. God's sight of the psalmist's
affliction was not idle contemplation, but implied active
intervention. To "take note of the distresses of my soul" (or
possibly, "of my soul in distresses") is the same as to care for it.
It is enough to know that God sees the secret sorrows, the obscure
trials which can be told to none. He loves as well as knows, and looks
on no griefs which He will not comfort nor on any wounds which He is
not ready to bind up. The psalmist was sure that God had seen, because
he had experienced His delivering power, as he goes on joyfully to
tell. The figure in ver. 8 _a_ points back to the act of trust in ver.
5. How should God let the hand of the enemy close round and crush the
spirit which had been entrusted to His own hand? One sees the greedy
fingers of the foe drawing themselves together on their prey as on a
fly, but they close on nothing. Instead of suffering constraint the
delivered spirit walks at liberty. They who are enclosed in God's hand
have ample room there; and unhindered activity, with the ennobling
consciousness of freedom, is the reward of trust.

Is it inconceivable that such sunny confidence should be suddenly
clouded and followed, as in the third turn of thought (vv. 9-13), by
plaintive absorption in the sad realities of present distress? The
very remembrance of a brighter past may have sharpened the sense of
present trouble. But it is to be noted that these complaints are
prayer, not aimless, self-pitying wailing. The enumeration of miseries
which begins with "Have mercy upon me, for----," has a hidden hope
tinging its darkness, like the faint flush of sunrise on clouds. There
is no such violent change of tone as is sometimes conceived; but the
pleas of the former parts are continued in this section, which adds
the psalmist's sore need to God's past and the suppliant's faith, as
another reason for Jehovah's help. He begins with the effects of his
trouble on himself in body and soul; thence he passes to its
consequences on those around him, and finally he spreads before God
its cause: plots against his life. The resemblances to Psalm vi. and
to several parts of Jeremiah are unmistakable. In vv. 9, 10, the
physical and mental effects of anxiety are graphically described.
Sunken eyes, enfeebled soul, wasted body, are gaunt witnesses of his
distress. Cares seem to him to have gnawed his very bones, so weak is
he. All that he can do is to sigh. And worse than all, conscience
tells him that his own sin underlies his trouble, and so he is without
inward stay. The picture seems exaggerated to easy-going, prosperous
people; but many a sufferer has since recognised himself in it as in a
mirror, and been thankful for words which gave voice to his pained
heart and cheered him with the sense of companionship in the gloom.

Vv. 11, 12, are mainly the description of the often-repeated
experience of friends forsaking the troubled. "Because of all my
adversaries" somewhat anticipates ver. 13 in assigning the reason for
the cowardly desertion. The three phrases "neighbours,"
"acquaintance," and "those who see me without" indicate concentric
circles of increasing diameter. The psalmist is in the middle; and
round him are, first, neighbours, who pour reproach on him, because of
his enemies, then the wider range of "acquaintances," afraid to have
anything to do with one who has such strong and numerous foes, and
remotest of all, the chance people met on the way who fly from Him, as
infected and dangerous. "They all forsook Him and fled." That bitter
ingredient mingles in every cup of sorrow. The meanness of human
nature and the selfishness of much apparent friendship are
commonplaces, but the experience of them is always as painful and
astonishing, as if nobody besides had ever suffered therefrom. The
roughness of structure in ver. 11 _b_, "and unto my neighbours
exceedingly," seems to fit the psalmist's emotion, and does not need
the emendation of "exceedingly" into "burden" (Delitzsch) or "shaking
of the head" (Cheyne).

In ver. 12 the desertion is bitterly summed up, as like the oblivion
that waits for the dead. The unsympathising world goes on its way, and
friends find new interests and forget the broken man, who used to be
so much to them, as completely as if he were in his grave, or as they
do the damaged cup, flung on the rubbish heap. Ver. 13 discloses the
nature of the calamity which has had these effects. Whispering
slanders buzz round him; he is ringed about with causes for fear,
since enemies are plotting his death. The use of the first part of the
verse by Jeremiah does not require the hypothesis of his authorship of
the psalm, nor of the prophet's priority to the psalmist. It is always
a difficult problem to settle which of two cases of the employment of
the same phrase is original and which quotation. The criteria are
elastic, and the conclusion is very often arrived at in deference to
preconceived ideas. But Jeremiah uses the phrase as if it were a
proverb or familiar expression, and the psalmist as if it were the
freshly struck coinage of his own experience.

Again the key changes, and the minor is modulated into confident
petition. It is the test of true trust that it is deepened by the
fullest recognition of dangers and enemies. The same facts may feed
despair and be the fuel of faith. This man's eyes took in all
surrounding evils, and these drove him to avert his gaze from them and
fix it on Jehovah. That is the best thing that troubles can do for us.
If they, on the contrary, monopolise our sight, they turn our hearts
to stone; but if we can wrench our stare from them, they clear our
vision to see our Helper. In vv. 14-18 we have the recoil of the
devout soul to God, occasioned by its recognition of need and
helplessness. This turn of the psalm begins with a strong emphatic
adversative: "But I--I trust in Jehovah." We see the man flinging
himself into the arms of God. The word for "trust" is the same as in
ver. 6, and means to _hang_ or _lean upon_, or, as we say, to _depend
on_. He utters his trust in his prayer, which occupies the rest of
this part of the psalm. A prayer, which is the voice of trust, does
not begin with petition, but with renewed adherence to God and happy
consciousness of the soul's relation to Him, and thence melts into
supplication for the blessings which are consequences of that
relation. To feel, on occasion of the very dreariness of
circumstances, that God is mine, makes miraculous sunrise at midnight.
Built on that act of trust claiming its portion in God, is the
recognition of God's all-regulating hand, as shaping the psalmist's
"times," the changing periods, each of which has its definite
character, responsibilities, and opportunities. Every man's life is a
series of crises, in each of which there is some special work to be
done or lesson to be learned, some particular virtue to be cultivated
or sacrifice made. The opportunity does not return. "It might have
been once; and we missed it, lost it for ever."

But the psalmist is thinking rather of the varying complexion of his
days as bright or dark; and looking beyond circumstances, he sees God.
The "hand of mine enemies" seems shrivelled into impotence when
contrasted with that great hand, to which he has committed his spirit,
and in which are his "times"; and the psalmist's recognition that it
holds his destiny is the ground of his prayer for deliverance from the
foes' paralysed grasp. They who feel the tender clasp of an almighty
hand need not doubt their security from hostile assaults. The
petitions proper are three in number: for deliverance, for the light
of God's face, and for "salvation." The central petition recalls the
priestly blessing (Num. vi. 25). It asks for consciousness of God's
friendship and for the manifestation thereof in safety from present
dangers. That face, turned in love to a man, can "make a sunshine in a
shady place," and brings healing on its beams. It seems best to take
the verbs in vv. 17, 18, as futures and not optatives. The prayer
passes into assurance of its answer, and what was petition in ver. 1
is now trustful prediction: "I shall not be ashamed, for I cry to
Thee." With like elevation of faith, the psalmist foresees the end of
the whispering defamers round him: shame for their vain plots and
their silent descent to the silent land. The loudest outcry against
God's lovers will be hushed some day, and the hands that threatened
them will be laid motionless and stiff across motionless breasts. He
who stands by God and looks forward, can, by the light of that face,
see the end of much transient bluster, "with pride and contempt,"
against the righteous. Lying lips fall dumb; praying lips, like the
psalmist's, are opened to show forth God's praise. His prayer is
audible still across the centuries; the mutterings of his enemies only
live in his mention of them.

That assurance prepares the way for the noble burst of thanksgiving, as
for accomplished deliverance, which ends the psalm, springing up in a
joyous outpouring of melody, like a lark from a bare furrow. But there
is no such change of tone as to warrant the supposition that these last
verses (19-24) are either the psalmist's later addition or the work of
another, nor do they oblige us to suppose that the whole psalm was
written after the peril which it commemorates had passed. Rather the
same voice which triumphantly rings out in these last verses has been
sounding in the preceding, even in their saddest strains. The ear
catches a twitter hushed again and renewed more than once before the
full song breaks out. The psalmist has been absorbed with his own
troubles till now, but thankfulness expands his vision, and suddenly
there is with him a multitude of fellow-dependants on God's goodness. He
hungers alone, but he feasts in company. The abundance of God's
"goodness" is conceived of as a treasure stored, and in part openly
displayed, before the sons of men. The antithesis suggests manifold
applications of the contrast, such as the inexhaustibleness of the mercy
which, after all revelation, remains unrevealed, and, after all
expenditure, has not perceptibly diminished in its shining mass, as of
bullion in some vault; or the varying dealings of God, who sometimes,
while sorrow is allowed to have its scope, seems to keep His riches of
help under lock and key, and then again flashes them forth in deeds of
deliverance; or the difference between the partial unfolding of these on
earth and the full endowment of His servants with "riches in glory"
hereafter. All these carry the one lesson that there is more in God than
any creature or all creatures have ever drawn from Him or can ever draw.
The repetition of the idea of hiding in ver. 20 is a true touch of
devout poetry. The same word is used for laying up the treasure and for
sheltering in a pavilion from the jangle of tongues. The wealth and the
poor men who need it are stored together, as it were; and the place
where they both lie safe is God Himself. How can they be poor who are
dwelling close beside infinite riches? The psalmist has just prayed that
God would make His face to shine upon him; and now he rejoices in the
assurance of the answer, and knows himself and all like-minded men to be
hidden in that "glorious privacy of light," where evil things cannot
live. As if caught up to and "clothed with the sun," he and they are
beyond the reach of hostile conspiracies, and have "outsoared the shadow
of" earth's antagonisms. The great thought of security in God has never
been more nobly expressed than by that magnificent metaphor of the light
inaccessible streaming from God's face to be the bulwark of a poor man.

The personal tone recurs for a moment in vv. 21, 22, in which it is
doubtful whether we hear thankfulness for deliverance anticipated as
certain and so spoken of as past, since it is as good as done, or for
some recently experienced marvel of loving-kindness, which heartens the
psalmist in present trouble. If this psalm is David's, the reference may
be to his finding a city of refuge, at the time when his fortunes were
very low, in Ziklag, a strange place for a Jewish fugitive to be
sheltered. One can scarcely help feeling that the allusion is so
specific as to suggest historical fact as its basis. At the same time it
must be admitted that the expression may be the carrying on of the
metaphor of the hiding in a pavilion. The "strong city" is worthily
interpreted as being God Himself, though the historical explanation is
tempting. God's mercy makes a true man ashamed of his doubts, and
therefore the thanksgiving of ver. 21 leads to the confession of ver.
22. Agitated into despair, the psalmist had thought that he was "cut off
from God's eyes"--_i.e._, hidden so as not to be helped--but the event
has showed that God both heard and saw him. If alarm does not so make us
think that God is blind to our need and deaf to our cry as to make us
dumb, we shall be taught the folly of our fears by His answers to our
prayers. These will have a voice of gentle rebuke, and ask us, "O thou
of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" He delivers first, and
lets the deliverance stand in place of chiding.

The whole closes with a summons to all whom Jehovah loves to love Him
for His mercy's sake. The joyful singer longs for a chorus to join his
single voice, as all devout hearts do. He generalises his own
experience, as all who have for themselves experienced deliverance are
entitled and bound to do, and discerns that in his single case the
broad law is attested that the faithful are guarded whatever dangers
assail, and "the proud doer" abundantly repaid for all his contempt
and hatred of the just. Therefore the last result of contemplating
God's ways with His servants is an incentive to courage, strength, and
patient waiting for the Lord.




                              PSALM XXXII.

   1  Blessed he whose transgression is taken away, whose sin is
            covered,
   2  Blessed the man to whom Jehovah reckons not iniquity,
      In whose spirit is no guile.

   3  When I kept silence, my bones rotted away,
      Through my roaring all the day.
   4  For day and night Thy hand weighed heavily upon me;
      My sap was turned [as] in droughts of summer. Selah.

   5  My sin I acknowledged to Thee, and my iniquity I covered not,
      I said, I will confess because of my transgressions to Jehovah,
      And Thou--Thou didst take away the iniquity of my sin. Selah.

   6  Because of this let every one beloved [of Thee] pray to Thee in a
            time of finding;
      Surely when great waters are in flood, to him they shall not
            reach.
   7  Thou art a shelter for me; from trouble wilt Thou preserve me,
      [With] shouts of deliverance wilt encircle me. Selah.

   8  I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou
            shouldest go;
      I will counsel thee, [with] mine eye upon thee.
   9  Be not ye like horse, like mule, without understanding,
      Whose harness to hold them in is bit and bridle,
      Else no coming near to thee.
  10  The wicked has many sorrows,
      And he who trusts in Jehovah--with loving-kindness will He
            encircle him.

  11  Rejoice in Jehovah, and exult, ye righteous;
      And shout joyfully, all ye upright of heart.


One must have a dull ear not to hear the voice of personal experience in
this psalm. It throbs with emotion, and is a burst of rapture from a
heart tasting the sweetness of the new joy of forgiveness. It is hard
to believe that the speaker is but a personification of the nation, and
the difficulty is recognised by Cheyne's concession that we have here
"principally, though not exclusively, a national psalm." The old opinion
that it records David's experience in the dark time when, for a whole
year, he lived impenitent after his great sin of sense, and was then
broken down by Nathan's message and restored to peace through pardon
following swiftly on penitence, is still defensible, and gives a fit
setting for this gem. Whoever was the singer, his song goes deep down to
permanent realities in conscience and in men's relations to God, and
therefore is not for an age, but for all time. Across the dim waste of
years, we hear this man speaking our sins, our penitence, our joy; and
the antique words are as fresh, and fit as close to our experiences, as
if they had been welled up from a living heart to-day. The theme is the
way of forgiveness and its blessedness; and this is set forth in two
parts: the first (vv. 1-5) a leaf from the psalmist's autobiography, the
second (ver. 6 to end) the generalisation of individual experience and
its application to others. In each part the prevailing division of
verses is into strophes of two, each containing two members, but with
some irregularity.

The page from the psalmist's confessions (vv. 1-5) begins with a burst
of rapturous thankfulness for the joy of forgiveness (vv. 1, 2),
passes to paint in dark colours the misery of sullen impenitence (vv.
3, 4), and then, in one longer verse, tells with glad wonder how
sudden and complete was the transition to the joy of forgiveness by
the way of penitence. It is a chart of one man's path from the depths
to the heights, and avails to guide all.

The psalmist begins abruptly with an exclamation (Oh, the blessedness,
etc.). His new joy wells up irrepressibly. To think that he who had gone
so far down in the mire, and had locked his lips in silence for so long,
should find himself so blessed! Joy so exuberant cannot content itself
with one statement of its grounds. It runs over in synonyms for sin and
its forgiveness, which are not feeble tautology. The heart is too full
to be emptied at one outpouring, and though all the clauses describe the
same things, they do so with differences. This is true with regard to
the words both for sin and for pardon. The three designations of the
former present three aspects of its hideousness. The first, rendered
("transgression,") conceives of it as rebellion against rightful
authority, not merely breach of an impersonal law, but breaking away
from a rightful king. The second ("sin") describes it as missing a mark.
What is in regard to God rebellion is in regard to myself missing the
aim, whether that aim be considered as that which a man is, by his very
make and relations, intended to be and do, or as that which he proposes
to himself by his act. All sin tragically fails to hit the mark in both
these senses. It is a failure as to reaching the ideal of conduct, "the
chief end of man," and not less so as to winning the satisfaction sought
by the deed. It keeps the word of promise to the ear, and breaks it to
the hope, ever luring by lying offers; and if it gives the poor delights
which it holds out, it ever adds something that embitters them, like
spirits of wine methylated and made undrinkable. It is always a blunder
to do wrong. The last synonym ("iniquity") means crookedness or
distortion, and seems to embody the same idea as our words "right" and
"wrong," namely the contrast between the straight line of duty and the
contorted lines drawn by sinful hands. What runs parallel with law is
right; what diverges is wrong. The three expressions for pardon are also
eloquent in their variety. The first word means taken away or lifted
off, as a burden from aching shoulders. It implies more than holding
back penal consequences; it is the removal of sin itself, and that not
merely in the multitudinousness of its manifestations in act, but in the
depth of its inward source. This is the metaphor which Bunyan has made
so familiar by his picture of the pilgrim losing his load at the cross.
The second ("covered") paints pardon as God's shrouding the foul thing
from His pure eyes, so that His action is no longer determined by its
existence. The third describes forgiveness as God's not reckoning a
man's sin to him, in which expression hovers some allusion to cancelling
a debt. The clause "in whose spirit is no guile" is best taken as a
conditional one, pointing to sincerity which confesses guilt as a
condition of pardon. But the alternative construction as a continuation
of the description of the forgiven man is quite possible; and if thus
understood, the crowning blessing of pardon is set forth as being the
liberation of the forgiven spirit from all "guile" or evil. God's kiss
of forgiveness sucks the poison from the wound.

Retrospect of the dismal depth from which it has climbed is natural to a
soul sunning itself on high. Therefore on the overflowing description of
present blessedness follows a shuddering glance downwards to past
unrest. Sullen silence caused the one; frank acknowledgment brought the
other. He who will not speak his sin to God has to groan. A dumb
conscience often makes a loud-voiced pain. This man's sin had indeed
missed its aim; for it had brought about three things: rotting bones
(which may be but a strong metaphor or may be a physical fact), the
consciousness of God's displeasure dimly felt as if a great hand were
pressing him down, and the drying up of the sap of his life, as if the
fierce heat of summer had burned the marrow in his bones. These were the
fruits of pleasant sin, and by reason of them many a moan broke from his
locked lips. Stolid indifference may delay remorse, but its serpent fang
strikes soon or later, and then strength and joy die. The Selah
indicates a swell or prolongation of the accompaniment, to emphasise
this terrible picture of a soul gnawing itself.

The abrupt turn to description of the opposite disposition in ver. 5
suggests a sudden gush of penitence. As at a bound, the soul passes from
dreary remorse. The break with the former self is complete, and effected
in one wrench. Some things are best done by degrees; and some, of which
forsaking sin is one, are best done quickly. And as swift as the resolve
to crave pardon, so swift is the answer giving it. We are reminded of
that gospel compressed into a verse, "David said unto Nathan, I have
sinned against the Lord. And Nathan said unto David, The Lord also hath
put away thy sin." Again the three designations of sin are employed,
though in different order; and the act of confession is thrice
mentioned, as that of forgiveness was. The fulness and immediateness of
pardon are emphatically given by the double epithet "the iniquity of thy
sin" and by the representation that it follows the resolve to confess,
and does not wait for the act. The Divine love is so eager to forgive
that it tarries not for actual confession, but anticipates it, as the
father interrupts the prodigal's acknowledgment with gifts and welcome.
The Selah at the end of ver. 5 is as triumphant as that at the close of
ver. 4 had been sad. It parts the autobiographical section from the more
general one which follows.

In the second part the solitary soul translates its experience into
exhortations for all, and woos men to follow on the same path, by
setting forth in rich variety the joys of pardon. The exhortation
first dwells on the positive blessings associated with penitence (vv.
6, 7), and next on the degradation and sorrow involved in obstinate
hard-heartedness (vv. 8-10). The natural impulse of him who has known
both is to beseech others to share his happy experience, and the
psalmist's course of thought obeys that impulse, for the future "shall
pray" (R.V.) is better regarded as hortatory "let ... pray." "Because
of this" does not express the contents of the petitions, but their
reason. The manifestation of God as infinitely ready to forgive should
hearten to prayer; and, since God's beloved need forgiveness day by
day, even though they may not have fallen into such gross sin as this
psalmist, there is no incongruity in the exhortation being addressed
to them. "He that is washed" still needs that feet fouled in muddy
ways should be cleansed. Every time of seeking by such prayer is a
"time of finding"; but the phrase implies that there is a time of not
finding, and, in its very graciousness, is heavy with warning against
delay. With forgiveness comes security. The penitent, praying,
pardoned man is set as on a rock islet in the midst of floods, whether
these be conceived of as temptation to sin or as calamities. The
hortatory tone is broken in ver. 7 by the recurrence of the personal
element, since the singer's heart was too full for silence; but there
is no real interruption, for the joyous utterance of one's own faith
is often the most winning persuasive, and a devout man can scarcely
hold out to others the sweetness of finding God without at the same
time tasting what he offers. Unless he does, his words will ring
unreal. "Thou art a shelter for me" (same word as in xxvii. 5, xxxi.
20), is the utterance of trust; and the emphasis is on "my." To hide
in God is to be "preserved from trouble," not in the sense of being
exempt, but in that of not being overwhelmed, as the beautiful last
clause of v. 7 shows, in which "shouts of deliverance" from trouble
which had pressed are represented by a bold, but not harsh, metaphor
as ringing the psalmist round. The air is filled with jubilant voices,
the echoes of his own. The word rendered "songs" or preferably
"shouts" is unusual, and its consonants repeat the last three of the
preceding word ("shalt preserve me"). These peculiarities have led to
the suggestion that we have in it a "dittograph." If so, the remaining
words of the last clause would read, "Thou wilt compass me about with
deliverance," which would be a perfectly appropriate expression. But
probably the similarity of letters is a play upon words, of which we
have another example in the preceding clause where the consonants of
the word for "trouble," reappear in their order in the verb "wilt
preserve." The shout of joy is caught up by the Selah.

But now the tone changes into solemn warning against obstinate disregard
of God's leading. It is usual to suppose that the psalmist still speaks,
but surely "I will counsel thee, with mine eye upon thee," does not fit
human lips. It is to be observed, too, that in ver. 8 a single person is
addressed, who is most naturally taken to be the same as he who spoke
his individual faith in ver. 7. In other words, the psalmist's
confidence evokes a Divine response, and that brief interchange of
clinging trust and answering promise stands in the midst of the appeal
to men, which it scarcely interrupts. Ver. 9 may either be regarded as
the continuance of the Divine voice, or perhaps better, as the
resumption by the psalmist of his hortatory address. God's direction as
to duty and protection in peril are both included in the promise of ver.
8. With His eye upon His servant, He will show him the way, and will
keep him ever in sight as he travels on it. The beautiful meaning of the
A.V., that God guides with a glance those who dwell near enough to Him
to see His look, is scarcely contained in the words, though it is true
that the sense of pardon binds men to Him in such sweet bonds that they
are eager to catch the faintest indications of His will, and "His looks
command, His lightest words are spells."

Vv. 9, 10, are a warning against brutish obstinacy. The former verse
has difficulties in detail, but its drift is plain. It contrasts the
gracious guidance which avails for those made docile by forgiveness
and trust with the harsh constraint which must curb and coerce mulish
natures. The only things which such understand are bits and bridles.
They will not come near to God without such rough outward constraint,
any more than an unbroken horse will approach a man unless dragged by
a halter. That untamableness except by force is the reason why "many
sorrows" must strike "the wicked." If these are here compared to "bit"
and "bridle," they are meant to drive to God, and are therefore
regarded as being such mercies as the obstinate are capable of
receiving. Obedience extorted by force is no obedience, but approach
to God compelled by sorrows that restrain unbridled licence of tempers
and of sense is accepted as a real approach and then is purged into
access with confidence. They who are at first driven are afterwards
drawn, and taught to know no delight so great as that of coming and
keeping near God.

The antithesis of "wicked" and "he that trusteth in Jehovah" is
significant as teaching that faith is the true opposite of sinfulness.
Not less full of meaning is the sequence of trust, righteousness, and
uprightness of heart in vv. 10, 11. Faith leads to righteousness, and
they are upright, not who have never fallen, but who have been raised
from their fall by pardon. The psalmist had thought of himself as
compassed with shouts of deliverance. Another circle is cast round him
and all who, with him, trust Jehovah. A ring of mercies, like a fiery
wall, surrounds the pardoned, faithful soul, without a break through
which a real evil can creep. Therefore the encompassing songs of
deliverance are continuous as the mercies which they hymn, and in the
centre of that double circle the soul sits secure and thankful.

The psalm ends with a joyful summons to general joy. All share in the
solitary soul's exultation. The depth of penitence measures the height
of gladness. The breath that was spent in "roaring all the day long"
is used for shouts of deliverance. Every tear sparkles like a diamond
in the sunshine of pardon, and he who begins with the lowly cry for
forgiveness will end with lofty songs of joy and be made, by God's
guidance and Spirit, righteous and upright in heart.




                             PSALM XXXIII.

   1  Rejoice aloud, ye righteous, in Jehovah,
      For the upright praise is seemly.
   2  Give thanks to Jehovah with harp;
      With ten-stringed psaltery play unto Him.
   3  Sing to Him a new song,
      Strike well [the strings] with joyful shouts.

   4  For upright is the word of Jehovah,
      And all His work is in faithfulness.
   5  He loves righteousness and judgment,
      Of Jehovah's loving-kindness the earth is full.
   6  By the word of Jehovah the heavens were made,
      And all their host by the breath of His mouth.
   7  Who gathereth as an heap the waters of the sea,
      Who layeth up the deeps in storehouses.
   8  Let all the earth fear Jehovah,
      Before Him let all inhabitants of the world stand in awe.
   9  For He, He spoke and it was;
      He, He commanded and it stood.
  10  Jehovah has brought to nothing the counsel of the nations,
      He has frustrated the designs of the peoples.
  11  The counsel of Jehovah shall stand for ever,
      The designs of His heart to generation after generation.

  12  Blessed is the nation whose God is Jehovah,
      The people He has chosen for an inheritance for Himself.
  13  From heaven Jehovah looks down,
      He beholds all the sons of men.
  14  From the place where He sits, He gazes
      On all the inhabitants of earth:--
  15  Even He who forms the hearts of them all,
      Who marks all their works.
  16  A king is not saved by the greatness of [his] army,
      A hero is not delivered by the greatness of [his] strength.
  17  A horse is a vain thing for safety;
      And by the greatness of its strength it does not give escape.
  18  Behold the eye of Jehovah is on them who fear Him,
      On them who hope for His loving-kindness,
  19  To deliver their soul from death,
      And to keep them alive in famine.

  20  Our soul waits for Jehovah,
      Our help and our shield is He.
  21  For in Him shall our heart rejoice,
      For in His holy name have we trusted.
  22  Let Thy loving-kindness, Jehovah, be upon us,
      According as we have hoped for Thee.


This is the last of the four psalms in Book I. which have no title,
the others being Psalms i., ii., which are introductory, and x. which
is closely connected with ix. Some have endeavoured to establish a
similar connection between xxxii. and xxxiii.; but, while the closing
summons to the righteous in the former is substantially repeated in
the opening words of the latter, there is little other trace of
connection, except the references in both to "the eye of Jehovah"
(xxxii. 8, xxxiii. 18); and no two psalms could be more different in
subject and tone than these. The one is full of profound, personal
emotion, and deals with the depths of experience; the other is devoid
of personal reference, and is a devout, calm contemplation of the
creative power and providential government of God. It is kindred with
the later type of psalms, and has many verbal allusions connecting it
with them. It has probably been placed here simply because of the
similarity just noticed between its beginning and the end of the
preceding. The reasons for the arrangement of the psalter were, so far
as they can be traced, usually such merely verbal coincidences. To one
who has been travelling through the heights and depths, the storms and
sunny gleams of the previous psalms, this impersonal didactic
meditation, with its historical allusions and entire ignoring of sins
and sorrows, is indeed "a new song." It is apparently meant for
liturgical use, and falls into three unequal parts; the first three
verses and the last three being prelude and conclusion, the former
summoning the "righteous" to praise Jehovah, the latter putting words
of trust and triumph and prayer into their mouths. The central mass
(vv. 4-19) celebrates the creative and providential work of God, in
two parts, of which the first extends these Divine acts over the world
(vv. 4-11) and the second concentrates them on Israel (vv. 12-19).

The opening summons to praise takes us far away from the solitary
wrestlings and communings in former psalms. Now

          "The singers lift up their voice,
             And the trumpets make endeavour,
           Sounding, 'In God rejoice!
             In Him rejoice for ever!'"

But the clear recognition of purity as the condition of access to God
speaks in this invocation as distinctly as in any of the preceding.
"The righteous" whose lives conform to the Divine will, and only they
can shout aloud their joy in Jehovah. Praise fits and adorns the lips
of the "upright" only, whose spirits are without twist of self-will
and sin. The direction of character expressed in the word is
horizontal rather than vertical, and is better represented by
"straight" than "upright." Praise gilds the gold of purity and adds
grace even to the beauty of holiness. Experts tell us that the
_kinnor_ (harp, A.V. and R.V.) and _nebel_ (psaltery) were both
stringed instruments, differing in the position of the sounding board,
which was below in the former and above in the latter, and also in the
covering of the strings (_v._ Delitzsch, Eng. transl. of latest ed.,
I. 7, n.). The "new song" is not necessarily the psalm itself, but may
mean other thanksgivings evoked by God's meditated-on goodness. But,
in any case, it is noteworthy that the occasions of the new song are
very old acts, stretching back to the first creation and continued
down through the ages. The psalm has no trace of special recent
mercies, but to the devout soul the old deeds are never antiquated,
and each new meditation on them breaks into new praise. So
inexhaustible is the theme that all generations take it up in turn,
and find "songs unheard" and "sweeter" with which to celebrate it.
Each new rising of the old sun brings music from the lips of Memnon,
as he sits fronting the east. The facts of revelation must be sung by
each age and soul for itself, and the glowing strains grow cold and
archaic, while the ancient mercies which they magnify live on bright
and young. There is always room for a fresh voice to praise the old
gospel, the old creation, the old providence.

This new song is saturated with reminiscences of old ones, and deals
with familiar thoughts which have come to the psalmist with fresh
power. He magnifies the moral attributes manifested in God's
self-revelation, His creative Word, and His providential government.
"The word of Jehovah," in ver. 4, is to be taken in the wide sense of
every utterance of His thought or will ("non accipi pro doctrina, sed
pro mundi gubernandi ratione," Calvin). It underlies His "works," as
is more largely declared in the following verses. It is "upright," the
same word as in ver. 1, and here equivalent to the general idea of
morally perfect. The acts which flow from it are "in faithfulness,"
correspond to and keep His word. The perfect word and works have for
source the deep heart of Jehovah, which loves "righteousness and
judgment," and therefore speaks and acts in accordance with these.
Therefore the outcome of all is a world full of God's loving-kindness.
The psalmist has won that "serene and blessed mood" in which the
problem of life seems easy, and all harsh and gloomy thoughts have
melted out of the sky. There is but one omnipotent Will at work
everywhere, and that is a Will whose law for itself is the love of
righteousness and truth. The majestic simplicity and universality of
the cause are answered by the simplicity and universality of the
result, the flooding of the whole world with blessing. Many another
psalm shows how hard it is to maintain such a faith in the face of the
terrible miseries of men, and the more complex "civilisation" becomes,
the harder it grows; but it is well to hear sometimes the one clear
note of gladness without its chord of melancholy.

The work of creation is set forth in vv. 6-9, as the effect of the
Divine word alone. The psalmist is fascinated not by the glories
created, but by the wonder of the process of creation. The Divine will
uttered itself, and the universe was. Of course the thought is parallel
with that of Genesis, "God said, Let there be ... and there was...." Nor
are we to antedate the Christian teaching of a personal Word of God, the
agent of creation. The old versions and interpreters, followed by
Cheyne, read "as in a bottle" for "as an heap," vocalising the text
differently from the present pointing; but there seems to be an allusion
to the wall of waters at the passage of the Red Sea, the same word being
used in Miriam's song; with "depths" in the next clause, there as here
(Exod. xv. 8). What is meant, however, here, is the separation of land
and water at first, and possibly the continuance of the same power
keeping them still apart, since the verbs in ver. 7 are participles,
which imply continued action. The image of "an heap" is probably due to
the same optical delusion which has coined the expression "the high
seas," since, to an eye looking seawards from the beach, the level
waters seem to rise as they recede; or it may merely express the
gathering together in a mass. Away out there, in that ocean of which the
Hebrews knew so little, were unplumbed depths in which, as in vast
storehouses, the abundance of the sea was shut up, and the ever-present
Word which made them at first was to them instead of bolts and bars.
Possibly the thought of the storehouses suggested that of the Flood when
these were opened, and that thought, crossing the psalmist's mind, led
to the exhortation in ver. 8 to fear Jehovah, which would more naturally
have followed ver. 9. The power displayed in creation is, however, a
sufficient ground for the summons to reverent obedience, and ver. 9 may
be but an emphatic repetition of the substance of the foregoing
description. It is eloquent in its brevity and juxtaposition of the
creative word and the created world. "It stood,"--"the word includes
much: first, the coming into being (_Entstehen_), then, the continued
subsistence (_Bestehen_), lastly, attendance (_Dastehen_) in readiness
for service" (Stier).

From the original creation the psalmist's mind runs over the ages
between it and him, and sees the same mystical might of the Divine
Will working in what we call providential government. God's bare word
has power without material means. Nay, His very thoughts unspoken are
endowed with immortal vigour, and are at bottom the only real powers
in history. God's "thoughts stand," as creation does, lasting on
through all men's fleeting years. With reverent boldness the psalm
parallels the processes (if we may so speak) of the Divine mind with
those of the human; "counsel" and "thoughts" being attributed to both.
But how different the issue of the solemn thoughts of God and those of
men, in so far as they are not in accordance with His! It unduly
narrows the sweep of the psalmist's vision to suppose that he is
speaking of a recent experience when some assault on Israel was
repelled. He is much rather linking the hour of creation with to-day
by one swift summary of the net result of all history. The only
stable, permanent reality is the will of God, and it imparts derived
stability to those who ally themselves with it, yielding to its
counsels and moulding their thoughts by its. "He that doeth the will
of God abideth for ever," but the shore of time is littered with
wreckage, the sad fragments of proud fleets which would sail in the
teeth of the wind and went to pieces on the rocks.

From such thoughts the transition to the second part of the main body
of the psalm is natural. Vv. 12-19 are a joyous celebration of the
blessedness of Israel as the people of so great a God. The most
striking feature of these verses is the pervading reference to the
passage of the Red Sea which, as we have already seen, has 
ver. 7. From Miriam's song come the designation of the people as God's
"inheritance," and the phrase "the place of His habitation" (Exod. xv.
17). The "looking upon the inhabitants of the earth," and the thought
that the "eye of Jehovah is upon them that fear Him, to deliver their
soul in death" (vv. 14, 18), remind us of the Lord's looking from the
pillar on the host of Egyptians and the terrified crowd of fugitives,
and of the same glance being darkness to the one and light to the
other. The abrupt introduction of the king not saved by his host, and
of the vanity of the horse for safety, are explained if we catch an
echo of Miriam's ringing notes, "Pharaoh's chariots and his host hath
He cast into the sea.... The horse and his rider hath He thrown into
the sea" (Exod. xv. 4, 21).

If this historical allusion be not recognised, the connection of these
verses is somewhat obscure, but still discernible. The people who
stand in special relation to God are blessed, because that eye, which
sees all men, rests on them in loving-kindness and with gracious
purpose of special protection. This contrast of God's universal
knowledge and of that knowledge which is accompanied with loving care
is the very nerve of these verses, as is shown by the otherwise
aimless repetition of the thought of God's looking down on men. There
is a wide all-seeingness, characterised by three words in an ascending
scale of closeness of observance, in vv. 13, 14. It is possible to God
as being Creator: "He fashions their hearts individually," or "one by
one," seems the best interpretation of ver. 15 _a_, and thence is
deduced His intimate knowledge of all His creatures' doings. The
sudden turn to the impotence of earthly might, as illustrated by the
king and the hero and the battle-horse, may be taken as intended to
contrast the weakness of such strength both with the preceding picture
of Divine omniscience and almightiness, and with the succeeding
assurance of safety in Jehovah. The true reason for the blessedness of
the chosen people is that God's eye is on them, not merely with cold
omniscience nor with critical considering of their works, but with the
direct purpose of sheltering them from surrounding evil. But the
stress of the characterisation of these guarded and nourished
favourites of heaven is now laid not upon a Divine act of choice, but
upon their meek looking to Him. His eye meets with love the upturned
patient eye of humble expectance and loving fear.

What should be the issue of such thoughts, but the glad profession of
trust, with which the psalm fittingly ends, corresponding to the
invocation to praise which began it? Once in each of these three closing
verses do the speakers profess their dependence on God. The attitude of
waiting with fixed hope and patient submission is the characteristic of
God's true servants in all ages. In it are blended consciousness of
weakness and vulnerability, dread of assault, reliance on Divine Love,
confidence of safety, patience, submission and strong aspiration.

These were the tribal marks of God's people, when this was "a new
song"; they are so to-day, for, though the Name of the Lord be more
fully known by Christ, the trust in it is the same. A threefold good
is possessed, expected and asked as the issue of this waiting. God is
"help and shield" to those who exercise it. Its sure fruit is joy in
Him, since He will answer the expectance of His people, and will make
His name more fully known and more sweet to those who have clung to
it, in so far as they knew it. The measure of hope in God is the
measure of experience of His loving-kindness, and the closing prayer
does not allege hope as meriting the answer which it expects, but
recognises that desire is a condition of possession of God's best
gifts, and knows it to be most impossible of all impossibilities that
hope fixed on God should be ashamed. Hands, lifted empty to heaven in
longing trust, will never drop empty back and hang listless, without a
blessing in their grasp.




                              PSALM XXXIV.

   1  ([Hebrew: alef]) I will bless Jehovah at all times,
      Continually shall His praise be in my mouth.
   2  ([Hebrew: bet]) In Jehovah my soul shall boast herself,
      The humble shall hear and rejoice.
   3  ([Hebrew: gimel]) Magnify Jehovah with me,
      And let us exalt His name together.

   4  ([Hebrew: dalet]) I sought Jehovah and He answered me,
      And from all my terrors did He deliver me.
   5  ([Hebrew: he]) They looked to Him and were brightened,
      ([Hebrew: vav]) And their faces did not blush.
   6  ([Hebrew: zayin]) This afflicted man cried and Jehovah heard,
      And from all his distresses saved him.
   7  ([Hebrew: het]) The angel of Jehovah encamps round them that fear
            Him,
      And delivers them.
   8  ([Hebrew: tet]) Taste and see that Jehovah is good;
      Happy the man that takes refuge in Him.
   9  ([Hebrew: yod]) Fear Jehovah, ye His holy ones;
      For there is no want to them that fear Him.
  10  ([Hebrew: kaf]) Young lions famish and starve,
      But they that seek Jehovah shall not want any good.

  11  ([Hebrew: lamed]) Come [my] sons, hearken to me;
      I will teach you the fear of Jehovah.
  12  ([Hebrew: mem]) Who is the man who desires life,
      Who loves [many] days, in order to see good?
  13  ([Hebrew: nun]) Keep thy tongue from evil,
      And thy lips from speaking deceit.
  14  ([Hebrew: samekh]) Depart from evil and do good;
      Seek peace and pursue it.
  15  ([Hebrew: ayin]) The eyes of Jehovah are toward the righteous,
      And His ears are towards their loud cry.
  16  ([Hebrew: pe]) The face of Jehovah is against the doers of evil
      To cut off their remembrance from the earth.
  17  ([Hebrew: tsadi]) The righteous cry and Jehovah hears;
      And from all their straits He rescues them.
  18  ([Hebrew: qof]) Jehovah is near to the broken in heart,
      And the crushed in spirit He saves.
  19  ([Hebrew: resh]) Many are the afflictions of the righteous;
      But from them all Jehovah delivers him.
  20  ([Hebrew: shin]) He keeps all his bones,
      Not one of them is broken.
  21  ([Hebrew: tav]) Evil shall slay the wicked;
      And the haters of the righteous shall be held guilty.
  22  ([Hebrew: pe]) Jehovah redeems the soul of His servants;
      And not held guilty shall any be who take refuge in Him.


The occasion of this psalm, according to the superscription, was that
humiliating and questionable episode, when David pretended insanity to
save his life from the ruler of Goliath's city of Gath. The set of
critical opinion sweeps away this tradition as unworthy of serious
refutation. The psalm is acrostic, therefore of late date; there are no
references to the supposed occasion; the careless scribe has blundered
"blindly" (Hupfeld) in the king's name, mixing up the stories about
Abraham and Isaac in Genesis with the legend about David at Gath; the
didactic, gnomical cast of the psalm speaks of a late age. But the
assumption that acrostic structure is necessarily a mark of late date is
not by any means self-evident, and needs more proof than is forthcoming;
the absence of plain allusions to the singer's circumstances cuts both
ways, and suggests the question, how the attribution to the period
stated arose, since there is nothing in the psalm to suggest it; the
blunder of the king's name is perhaps not a blunder after all, but, as
the Genesis passages seem to imply, "Abimelech" (the father of the King)
may be a title, like Pharaoh, common to Philistine "kings," and Achish
may have been the name of the reigning Abimelech; the proverbial style
and somewhat slight connection and progress of thought are necessary
results of acrostic fetters. If the psalm be David's, the contrast
between the degrading expedient which saved him and the exalted
sentiments here is remarkable, but not incredible. The seeming idiot
scrabbling on the gate is now saint, poet, and preacher; and, looking
back on the deliverance won by a trick, he thinks of it as an instance
of Jehovah's answer to prayer! It is a strange psychological study; and
yet, keeping in view the then existing standard of morality as to
stratagems in warfare, and the wonderful power that even good men have
of ignoring flaws in their faith and faults in their conduct, we may
venture to suppose that the event which evoked this song of thanksgiving
and is transfigured in ver. 4 is the escape by craft from Achish. To
David his feigning madness did not seem inconsistent with trust and
prayer.

Whatever be the occasion of the psalm, its course of thought is
obvious. There is first a vow of praise in which others are summoned
to unite (vv. 1-3); then follows a section in which personal
experience and invocation to others are similarly blended (vv. 4-10);
and finally a purely didactic section, analysing the practical
manifestations of "the fear of the Lord" and enforcing it by the
familiar contrast of the blessedness of the righteous and the
miserable fate of the ungodly. Throughout we find familiar turns of
thought and expression, such as are usual in acrostic psalms.

The glad vow of unbroken praise and undivided trust, which begins the
psalm, sounds like the welling over of a heart for recent mercy. It
seems easy and natural while the glow of fresh blessings is felt, to
"rejoice in the Lord always, and again to say Rejoice." Thankfulness
which looks forward to its own cessation, and takes into account the
distractions of circumstance and changes of mood which will surely
come, is too foreseeing. Whether the vow be kept or no, it is well
that it should be made; still better is it that it should be kept, as
it may be, even amid distracting circumstances and changing moods. The
incense on the altar did not flame throughout the day, but, being
fanned into a glow at morning and evening sacrifice, it smouldered
with a thread of fragrant smoke continually. It is not only the
exigencies of the acrostic which determine the order in ver. 2: "In
Jehovah shall my soul boast,"--_in Him_, and not in self or worldly
ground, of trust and glorying. The ideal of the devout life, which in
moments of exaltation seems capable of realisation, as in clear
weather Alpine summits look near enough to be reached in an hour, is
unbroken praise and undivided reliance on and joy in Jehovah. But
alas--how far above us the peaks are! Still to see them ennobles, and
to strive to reach them secures an upward course.

The solitary heart hungers for sympathy in its joy, as in its sorrow;
but knows full well that such can only be given by those who have
known like bitterness and have learned submission in the same way. We
must be purged of self in order to be glad in another's deliverance,
and must be pupils in the same school in order to be entitled to take
his experience as our encouragement, and to make a chorus to his solo
of thanksgiving. The invocation is so natural an expression of the
instinctive desire for companionship in praise that one needs not to
look for any particular group to whom it is addressed; but if the
psalm be David's, the call is not inappropriate in the mouth of the
leader of his band of devoted followers.

The second section of the psalm (vv. 4-10) is at first biographical,
and then generalises personal experience into broad universal truth.
But even in recounting what befell himself, the singer will not eat
his morsel alone, but is glad to be able at every turn to feel that he
has companions in his happy experience. Vv. 4, 5 are a pair, as are
vv. 6, 7, and in each the same fact is narrated first in reference to
the single soul, and then in regard to all the servants of Jehovah.
"This poor man" is by most of the older expositors taken to be the
psalmist, but by the majority of moderns supposed to be an
individualising way of saying, "poor men." The former explanation
seems to me the more natural, as preserving the parallelism between
the two groups of verses. If so, the close correspondence of
expression in vv. 4 and 6 is explained, since the same event is
subject of both. In both is the psalmist's appeal to Jehovah
presented; in the one as "seeking" with anxious eagerness, and in the
other as "crying" with the loud call of one in urgent need of
immediate rescue. In both, Divine acceptance follows close on the cry,
and in both immediately ensues succour. "He delivered me from all my
fears," and "saved him out of all his troubles," correspond entirely,
though not verbally. In like manner vv. 5 and 7 are alike in extending
the blessing of the unit so as to embrace the class. The absence of
any expressed subject of the verb in ver. 5 makes the statement more
comprehensive, like the French "_on_," or English "they." To "look
unto Him" is the same thing as is expressed in the individualising
verses by the two phrases, "sought," and "cried unto," only the
metaphor is changed into that of silent, wistful directing of
beseeching and sad eyes to God. And its issue is beautifully told, in
pursuance of the metaphor. Whoever turns his face to Jehovah will
receive reflected brightness on his face; as when a mirror is directed
sunwards, the dark surface will flash into sudden glory. Weary eyes
will gleam. Faces turned to the sun are sure to be radiant.

The hypothesis of the Davidic authorship gives special force to the
great assurance of ver. 7. The fugitive, in his rude shelter in the
cave of Adullam, thinks of Jacob, who, in his hour of defenceless
need, was heartened by the vision of the angel encampment surrounding
his own little band, and named the place "Mahanaim," the two camps.
That fleeting vision was a temporary manifestation of abiding reality.
Wherever there is a camp of them that fear God, there is another, of
which the helmed and sworded angel that appeared to Joshua is Captain,
and the name of every such place is Two Camps. That is the sight which
brightens the eyes that look to God. That mysterious personality, "the
Angel of the Lord," is only mentioned in the Psalter here and in Psalm
xxxv. In other places, He appears as the agent of Divine
communications, and especially as the guide and champion of Israel. He
is "the angel of God's face," the personal revealer of His presence
and nature. His functions correspond to those of the Word in John's
Gospel, and these, conjoined with the supremacy indicated in his name,
suggest that "_the_ Angel of the Lord" is, in fact, the everlasting
Son of the Father, through whom the Christology of the New Testament
teaches that all Revelation has been mediated. The psalmist did not
know the full force of the name, but he believed that there was a
Person, in an eminent and singular sense God's messenger, who would
cast his protection round the devout, and bid inferior heavenly
beings draw their impregnable ranks about them. Christians can tell
more than he could, of the Bearer of the name. It becomes them to be
all the surer of His protection.

Just as the vow of ver. 1 passed into invocation, so does the personal
experience of vv. 4-7 glide into exhortation. If such be the experience
of poor men, trusting in Jehovah, how should the sharers in it be able
to withhold themselves from calling on others to take their part in the
joy? The depth of a man's religion may be roughly, but on the whole
fairly, tested by his irrepressible impulse to bring other men to the
fountain from which he has drunk. Very significantly does the psalm call
on men to "taste and see," for in religion experience must precede
knowledge. The way to "taste" is to "trust" or to "take refuge in"
Jehovah. "Crede et manducasti," says Augustine. The psalm said it before
him. Just as the act of appealing to Jehovah was described in a
threefold way in vv. 4-6, so a threefold designation of devout men
occurs in vv. 8-10. They "trust," are "saints," they "seek." Faith,
consecration and aspiration are their marks. These are the essentials of
the religious life, whatever be the degree of revelation. These were its
essentials in the psalmist's time, and they are so to-day. As abiding as
they, are the blessings consequent. These may all be summed up in
one--the satisfaction of every need and desire. There are two ways of
seeking for satisfaction: that of effort, violence and reliance on one's
own teeth and claws to get one's meat; the other that of patient,
submissive trust. Were there lions prowling round the camp at Adullam,
and did the psalmist take their growls as typical of all vain attempts
to satisfy the soul? Struggle and force and self-reliant efforts leave
men gaunt and hungry. He who takes the path of trust and has his supreme
desires set on God, and who looks to Him to give what he himself cannot
wring out of life, will get first his deepest desires answered in
possessing God, and will then find that the One great Good is an
encyclopaedia of separate goods. They that "seek Jehovah" shall assuredly
find Him, and in Him everything. He is multiform, and His goodness takes
many shapes, according to the curves of the vessels which it fills.
"Seek ye first the kingdom of God ... and all these things shall be
added unto you."

The mention of the "fear of the Lord" prepares the way for the
transition to the third part of the psalm. It is purely didactic, and,
in its simple moral teaching and familiar contrast of the fates of
righteous and ungodly, has affinities with the Book of Proverbs; but
these are not so special as to require the supposition of
contemporaneousness. It is unfashionable now to incline to the Davidic
authorship; but would not the supposition that the "children," who are
to be taught the elements of religion, are the band of outlaws who
have gathered round the fugitive, give appropriateness to the
transition from the thanksgiving of the first part to the didactic
tone of the second? We can see them sitting round the singer in the
half-darkness of the cave, a wild group, needing much control and yet
with faithful hearts, and loyal to their leader, who now tells them
the laws of his camp, at the same time as he sets forth the broad
principles of that morality, which is the garment and manifestation
among men of the "fear of the Lord." The relations of religion and
morals were never more clearly and strikingly expressed than in the
simple language of this psalm, which puts the substance of many
profound treatises in a nutshell, when it expounds the "fear of
Jehovah" as consisting in speaking truth, doing good, abhorring evil
and seeking peace even when it seems to flee from us. The primal
virtues are the same for all ages and stages of revelation. The
definition of good and evil may vary and become more spiritual and
inward, but the dictum that it is good to love and do good shines
unalterable. The psalmist's belief that doing good was the sure way to
enjoy good was a commonplace of Old Testament teaching, and under a
Theocracy was more distinctly verified by outward facts than now; but
even then, as many psalms show, had exceptions so stark as to stir
many doubts. Unquestionably good in the sense of blessedness is
inseparable from good in the sense of righteousness, as evil which is
suffering is from evil which is sin, but the conception of what
constitutes blessedness and sorrow must be modified so as to throw
most weight on inward experiences, if such necessary coincidence is to
be maintained in the face of patent facts.

The psalmist closes his song with a bold statement of the general
principle that goodness is blessedness and wickedness is wretchedness;
but he finds his proof mainly in the contrasted relation to Jehovah
involved in the two opposite moral conditions. He has no vulgar
conception of blessedness as resulting from circumstances. The
loving-kindness of Jehovah is, in his view, prosperity, whatever be
the aspect of externals. So with bold symbols, the very grossness of
the letter of which shields them from misinterpretation, he declares
this as the secret of all blessedness, that Jehovah's eyes are towards
the righteous and His ears open to their cry. The individual
experiences of vv. 5 and 6 are generalised. The eye of God--_i.e._
His loving observance--rests upon and blesses those whose faces are
turned to Him, and His ear hears the poor man's cry. The grim
antithesis, which contains in itself the seeds of all unrest, is that
the "face of Jehovah"--_i.e._ His manifested presence, the same face
in the reflected light of which the faces of the righteous are lit up
with gladness and dawning glory--is against evil doers. The moral
condition of the beholder determines the operation of the light of
God's countenance upon him. The same presence is light and darkness,
life and death. Evil and its doers shrivel and perish in its beams, as
the sunshine kills creatures whose haunt is the dark, or as Apollo's
keen light-arrows slew the monsters of the slime. All else follows
from this double relationship.

The remainder of the psalm runs out into a detailed description of the
joyful fate of the lovers of good broken only by one tragic verse (21),
like a black rock in the midst of a sunny stream, telling how evil and
evil-doers end. In ver. 17, as in ver. 5, the verb has no subject
expressed, but the supplement of A.V. and R.V., "the righteous," is
naturally drawn from the context and is found in the LXX., whether as
part of the original text, or as supplement thereto, is unknown. The
construction may, as in ver. 6, indicate that whoever cries to Jehovah
is heard. Hitzig and others propose to transpose vv. 15 and 16, so as to
get a nearer subject for the verb in the "righteous" of ver. 15, and
defend the inversion by referring to the alphabetic order in Lam. ii.,
iii., iv., where similarly Pe precedes Ayin; but the present order of
verses is better as putting the principal theme of this part of the
psalm--the blessedness of the righteous--in the foreground, and the
opposite thought as its foil. The main thought of vv. 17-20 is nothing
more than the experience of vv. 4-7 thrown into the form of general
maxims. They are the commonplaces of religion, but come with strange
freshness to a man, when they have been verified in his life. Happy they
who can cast their personal experience into such proverbial sayings,
and, having by faith individualised the general promises, can
re-generalise the individual experience! The psalmist does not promise
untroubled outward good. His anticipation is of troubled lives,
delivered because of crying to Jehovah. "Many are the afflictions," but
more are the deliverances. Many are the blows and painful is the
pressure, but they break no bones, though they rack and wrench the
frame. Significant, too, is the sequence of synonyms--righteous,
broken-hearted, crushed in spirit, servants, them that take refuge in
Jehovah. The first of these refers mainly to conduct, the second to that
submission of will and spirit which sorrow rightly borne brings about,
substantially equivalent to "the humble" or "afflicted" of vv. 2 and 6,
the third again deals mostly with practice, and the last touches the
foundation of all service, submission, and righteousness, as laid in the
act of faith in Jehovah.

The last group of vv. 21, 22, puts the teaching of the psalm in one
terrible contrast, "Evil shall slay the wicked." It were a mere
platitude if by "evil" were meant misfortune. The same thought of the
inseparable connection of the two senses of that word, which runs
through the context, is here expressed in the most terse fashion. To
do evil is to suffer evil, and all sin is suicide. Its wages is death.
Every sin is a strand in the hangman's rope, which the sinner nooses
and puts round his own neck. That is so because every sin brings
guilt, and guilt brings retribution. Much more than "desolate" is
meant in vv. 21 and 22. The word means _to be condemned_ or _held
guilty_. Jehovah is the Judge; before His bar all actions and
characters are set: His unerring estimate of each brings with it, here
and now, consequences of reward and punishment which prophesy a
future, more perfect judgment. The redemption of the soul of God's
servants is the antithesis to that awful experience; and they only,
who take refuge in Him, escape it. The full Christian significance of
this final contrast is in the Apostle's words, "There is therefore now
no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus."




                              PSALM XXXV.

   1  Plead my cause, Jehovah, with those who plead against me;
      Fight with those who fight with me.
   2  Grasp target and shield,
      And stand up in my help,
   3  And unsheathe lance and battle-axe (?) against my pursuers;
      Say to my soul, Thy salvation am I.

   4  Be the seekers after my life put to shame and dishonoured;
      Be the plotters of my hurt turned back and confounded
   5  Be they as chaff before the wind,
      And the angel of Jehovah striking them down!
   6  Be their path darkness and slipperiness,
      And the angel of Jehovah pursuing them!

   7  For without provocation have they hidden for me their net;
      Without provocation have they dug a pit for my life.
   8  May destruction light on him unawares,
      And his net which he hath hidden snare him;
      Into destruction (the pit?)--may he fall therein!

   9  And my soul shall exult in Jehovah,
      Shall rejoice in His salvation.
  10  All my bones shall say, Jehovah, who is like Thee,
      Delivering the afflicted from a stronger than he,
      Even the afflicted and poor from his spoiler?

  11  Unjust witnesses rise up;
      Of what I know not they ask me.
  12  They requite me evil for good--
      Bereavement to my soul!
  13  But I--in their sickness my garment was sackcloth,
      I afflicted my soul by fasting,
      And my prayer--may it return again (do thou return?) to my own
            bosom.
  14  As [for] my friend or brother, I dragged myself about (bowed
            myself down?);
      As one mourning for a mother, I bowed down (dragged myself about?)
            in squalid attire.
  15  And at my tottering they rejoice and assemble themselves;
      Abjects and those whom I know not assemble against me;
      They tear me, and cease not,
  16  Like the profanest of buffoons for a bit of bread,
      Gnashing their teeth at me.

  17  Lord, how long wilt Thou look on?
      Bring back my soul from their destructions,
      My only one from the young lions.
  18  I will praise Thee in the great congregation;
      Among people strong [in number] will I sound Thy praise.

  19  Let not my enemies wrongfully rejoice over me,
      Nor my haters without provocation wink the eye.
  20  For it is not peace they speak,
      And against the quiet of the land they plan words of guile.
  21  And they open wide their mouth against me;
      They say, Oho! Oho! our eyes have seen.

  22  Thou hast seen, Jehovah: be not deaf;
      Lord, be not far from me!
  23  Arouse Thyself, and awake for my judgment,
      My God and my Lord, for my suit!
  24  Judge me according to Thy righteousness, Jehovah, my God,
      And let them not rejoice over me.

  25  Let them not say in their hearts, Oho! our desire!
      Let them not say, We have swallowed him.
  26  Be those who rejoice over my calamity put to shame and confounded
            together!
      Be those who magnify themselves against me clothed in shame and
            dishonour!

  27  May those who delight in my righteous cause sound out their
            gladness and rejoice,
      And say continually, Magnified be Jehovah,
      Who delights in the peace of His servant.
  28  And my tongue shall meditate Thy righteousness,
      All day long Thy praise.


The psalmist's life is in danger. He is the victim of ungrateful
hatred. False accusations of crimes that he never dreamed of are
brought against him. He professes innocence, and appeals to Jehovah to
be his Advocate and also his Judge. The prayer in ver. 1 a uses the
same word and metaphor as David does in his remonstrance with Saul (1
Sam. xxiv. 15). The correspondence with David's situation in the
Sauline persecution is, at least, remarkable, and goes far to sustain
the Davidic authorship. The distinctly individual traits in the psalm
are difficulties in the way of regarding it as a national psalm.
Jeremiah has several coincidences in point of expression and
sentiment, which are more naturally accounted for as reminiscences by
the prophet than as indications that he was the psalmist. His genius
was assimilative, and liked to rest itself on earlier utterances.

The psalm has three parts, all of substantially the same import, and
marked off by the conclusion of each being a vow of praise and the
main body of each being a cry for deliverance, a characterisation of
the enemy as ungrateful and malicious, and a profession of the
singer's innocence. We do not look for melodious variations of note in
a cry for help. The only variety to be expected is in its shrill
intensity and prolongation. The triple division is in accordance with
the natural feeling of completeness attaching to the number. If there
is any difference between the three sets of petitions, it may be
observed that the first (vv. 1-10) alleges innocence and vows praise
without reference to others; that the second (vv. 11-18) rises to a
profession not only of innocence, but of beneficence and affection met
by hate, and ends with a vow of public praise; and that the final
section (vv. 19-28) has less description of the machinations of the
enemy and more prolonged appeal to Jehovah for His judgment, and ends,
not with a solo of the psalmist's gratitude, but with a chorus of his
friends, praising God for his "prosperity."

The most striking features of the first part are the boldness of the
appeal to Jehovah to fight for the psalmist and the terrible
imprecations and magnificent picture in vv. 5, 6. The relation between
the two petitions of ver. 1, "Plead with those who plead against the"
and "Fight with them that fight against me," may be variously
determined. Both may be figurative, the former drawn from legal
processes, the latter from the battle-field. But more probably the
psalmist was really the object of armed attack, and the "fighting" was
a grim reality. The suit against him was being carried on, not in a
court, but in the field. The rendering of the R.V. in ver. 1, "Strive
with ... who strive against me," obscures the metaphor of a lawsuit,
which, in view of its further expansion in vv. 23, 24 (and in
"witnesses" in ver. 11?), is best retained. That is a daring flight of
reverent imagination which thinks of the armed Jehovah as starting to
His feet to help one poor man. The attitude anticipates Stephen's
vision of "the Son of man standing," not throned in rest, but risen in
eager sympathy and intent to succour. But the panoply in which the
psalmist's faith arrays Jehovah, is purely imaginative and, of course,
has nothing parallel in the martyr's vision. The "target" was smaller
than the "shield" (2 Chron. ix. 15, 16). Both could not be wielded at
once, but the incongruity helps to idealise the bold imagery and to
emphasise the Divine completeness of protecting power. It is the
psalmist, and not his heavenly Ally, who is to be sheltered. The two
defensive weapons are probably matched by two offensive ones in ver.
3. The word rendered in the A.V. "stop" ("the way" being a supplement)
is more probably to be taken as the name of a weapon, a battle-axe
according to some, a dirk or dagger according to others. The ordinary
translation gives a satisfactory sense, but the other is more in
accordance with the following preposition, with the accents, and with
the parallelism of target and shield. In either case, how beautifully
the spiritual reality breaks through the warlike metaphor! This armed
Jehovah, grasping shield and drawing spear, utters no battle shout,
but whispers consolation to the trembling man crouching behind his
shield. The outward side of the Divine activity, turned to the foe, is
martial and menacing; the inner side is full of tender, secret
breathings of comfort and love.

The previous imagery of the battle-field and the Warrior God moulds the
terrible wishes in vv. 4-6, which should not be interpreted as having a
wider reference than to the issue of the attacks on the psalmist. The
substance of them is nothing more than the obverse of his wish for his
own deliverance, which necessarily is accomplished by the defeat of his
enemies. The "moral difficulty" of such wishes is not removed by
restricting them to the special matter in hand, but it is unduly
aggravated if they are supposed to go beyond it. However restricted,
they express a stage of feeling far beneath the Christian, and the
attempt to slur over the contrast is in danger of hiding the glory of
midday for fear of not doing justice to the beauty of morning twilight.
It is true that the "imprecations" of the Psalter are not the offspring
of passion, and that the psalmists speak as identifying their cause with
God's; but when all such considerations are taken into account, these
prayers against enemies remain distinctly inferior to the code of
Christian ethics. The more frankly the fact is recognised, the better.
But, if we turn from the moral to the poetic side of these verses, what
stern beauty there is in that awful picture of the fleeing foe, with
the angel of Jehovah pressing hard on their broken ranks! The hope which
has been embodied in the legends of many nations, that the gods were
seen fighting for their worshippers, is the psalmist's faith, and in its
essence is ever true. That angel, whom we heard of in the previous psalm
as defending the defenceless encampment of them that fear Jehovah,
fights with and scatters the enemies like chaff before the wind. One
more touch of terror is added in that picture of flight in the dark, on
a slippery path, with the celestial avenger close on the fugitives'
heels, as when the Amorite kings fled down the pass of Beth-horon, and
"Jehovah cast great stones from heaven upon them." AEschylus or Dante has
nothing more concentrated or suggestive of terror and beauty than this
picture.

The psalmist's consciousness of innocence is the ground of his prayer
and confidence. Causeless hatred is the lot of the good in this evil
world. Their goodness is cause enough; for men's likes and dislikes
follow their moral character. Virtue rebukes, and even patient endurance
irritates. No hostility is so hard to turn into love as that which has
its origin, not in the attitude of its object, but in instinctive
consciousness of contrariety in the depths of the soul. Whoever wills to
live near God and tries to shape his life accordingly may make up his
mind to be the mark for many arrows of popular dislike, sometimes
lightly tipped with ridicule, sometimes dipped in gall, sometimes
steeped in poison, but always sharpened by hostility. The experience is
too uniform to identify the poet by it, but the correspondence with
David's tone in his remonstrances with Saul is, at least, worthy of
consideration. The familiar figures of the hunter's snare and pitfall
recur here, as expressing crafty plans for destruction, and pass, as in
other places, into the wish that the lex talionis may fall on the
would-be ensnarer. The text appears to be somewhat dislocated and
corrupted in vv. 7, 8. The word "pit" is needless in ver. 7 _a_, since
snares are not usually spread in pits, and it is wanted in the next
clause, and should therefore probably be transposed. Again, the last
clause of ver. 8, whether the translation of the A.V. or of the R.V. be
adopted, is awkward and feeble from the repetition of "destruction," but
if we read "pit," which involves only a slight change of letters, we
avoid tautology, and preserve the reference to the two engines of craft:
"Let his net which he spread catch him; in the pit--let him fall
therein!" The enemy's fall is the occasion of glad praise, not because
his intended victim yields to the temptation to take malicious delight
in his calamity (_Schadenfreude_). His own deliverance, not the other's
destruction, makes the singer joyful in Jehovah, and what he vows to
celebrate is not the retributive, but the delivering, aspect of the
Divine act. In such joy there is nothing unworthy of the purest
forgiving love to foes. The relaxation of the tension of anxiety and
fear brings the sweetest moments, in the sweetness of which soul and
body seem to share, and the very bones, which were consumed and waxed
old (vi. 3, xxxii. 3), are at ease, and, in their sense of well-being,
have a tongue to ascribe it to Jehovah's delivering hand. No physical
enjoyment surpasses the delight of simple freedom from long torture of
pain, nor are there many experiences so poignantly blessed as that of
passing out of tempest into calm. Well for those who deepen and hallow
such joy by turning it into praise, and see even in the experiences of
their little lives tokens of the incomparable greatness and
unparalleled love of their delivering God!

Once more the singer plunges into the depths, not because his faith
fails to sustain him on the heights which it had won, but because it
would travel the road again, in order to strengthen itself by persistent
prayers which are not "vain repetitions." The second division (vv.
11-18) runs parallel with the first, with some differences. The
reference to "unjust witnesses" and their charges of crimes which he had
never dreamed of may be but the reappearance of the image of a lawsuit,
as in ver. 1, but is more probably fact. We may venture to think of the
slanders which poisoned Saul's too jealous mind, just as in "They
requite me evil for good" we have at least a remarkable verbal
coincidence with the latter's burst of tearful penitence (1 Sam. xxiv.
17): "Thou art more righteous than I, for thou hast rendered unto me
good, whereas I have rendered unto thee evil." What a wail breaks the
continuity of the sentence in the pathetic words of ver. 12
_b_!--"Bereavement to my soul!" The word is used again in Isa. xlviii.
7, 8, and there is translated "loss of children." The forlorn man felt
as if all whom he loved were swept away, and he left alone to face the
storm. The utter loneliness of sorrow was never more vividly expressed.
The interjected clause sounds like an agonised cry forced from a man on
the rack. Surely we hear in it not the voice of a personified nation,
but of an individual sufferer, and if we have been down into the depths
ourselves, we recognise the sound. The consciousness of innocence
marking the former section becomes now the assertion of active sympathy,
met by ungrateful hate. The power of kindness is great, but there are
ill-conditioned souls which resent it. There is too much truth in the
cynical belief that the sure way to make an enemy is to do a kindness.
It is all too common an experience that the more abundantly one loves,
the less he is loved. The highest degree of unrequited participation in
others' sorrows is seen in Him who "Himself took our sicknesses." This
psalmist so shared in those of his foes that in sackcloth and with
fasting he prayed for their healing. Whether the prayer was answered to
them or not, it brought reflex blessing to him, for self-forgetting
sympathy is never waste, even though it does not secure returns of
gratitude. "Your peace shall return to you again," though it may not
bring peace to nor with a jangling household. Riehm (in Hupfeld)
suggests the transposition of the verbs in 14 _a_ and _b_: "I _bowed
down_ as though he had been my friend or brother; I _went_ in mourning,"
etc., the former clause painting the drooping head of a mourner, the
latter his slow walk and sad attire, either squalid or black.

The reverse of this picture of true sympathy is given in the conduct
of its objects when it was the psalmist's turn to sorrow. Gleefully
they flock together to mock and triumph. His calamity was as good as a
feast to the ingrates. Vv. 15 and 16 are in parts obscure, but the
general sense is clear. The word rendered "abjects" is unique, and
consequently its meaning is doubtful, and various conjectural
emendations have been proposed--_e.g._, "foreigners," which, as
Hupfeld says, is "as foreign to the connection as can be," "smiting,"
and others--but the rendering "abjects," or men of low degree, gives
an intelligible meaning. The comparison in ver. 16 _a_ is extremely
obscure. The existing text is harsh; "profane of mockers for a cake"
needs much explanation to be intelligible. "Mockers for a cake" are
usually explained to be hangers-on at feasts who found wit for dull
guests and were paid by a share of good things, or who crept into
favour and entertainment by slandering the objects of the host's
dislike. Another explanation, suggested by Hupfeld as an alternative,
connects the word rendered "mockers" with the imagery in "tear" (ver.
15) and "gnash" (ver. 16) and "swallow" (ver. 25), and by an
alteration of one letter gets the rendering "like profane
cake-devourers," so comparing the enemies to greedy gluttons, to whom
the psalmist's ruin is a dainty morsel eagerly devoured.

The picture of his danger is followed, as in the former part, by the
psalmist's prayer. To him God's beholding without interposing is
strange, and the time seems protracted; for the moments creep when
sorrow-laden, and God's help seems slow to tortured hearts. But the
impatience which speaks of itself to Him is soothed, and, though the
man who cries, _How long?_ may feel that his life lies as among lions,
he will swiftly change his note of petition into thanksgiving. The
designation of the life as "my only one," as in xxii. 20, enhances the
earnestness of petition by the thought that, once lost, it can never
be restored. A man has but one life; therefore he holds it so dear.
The mercy implored for the single soul will be occasion of praise
before many people. Not now, as in vv. 9, 10, is the thankfulness a
private soliloquy. Individual blessings should be publicly
acknowledged, and the praise accruing thence may be used as a plea
with God, who delivers men that they may "show forth the excellencies
of Him who hath called them out of" trouble into His marvellous peace.

The third division (ver. 18 to end) goes over nearly the same ground
as before, with the difference that the prayer for deliverance is
more extended, and that the resulting praise comes from the great
congregation, joining in as chorus in the singer's solo. The former
references to innocence and causeless hatred, lies and plots,
open-mouthed rage, are repeated. "Our eyes have seen," say the
enemies, counting their plots as good as successful and snorting
contempt of their victim's helplessness; but he bethinks him of
another eye, and grandly opposes God's sight to theirs. Usually that
Jehovah sees is, in the Psalter, the same as His helping; but here, as
in ver. 17, the two things are separated, as they so often are, in
fact, for the trial of faith. God's inaction does not disprove His
knowledge, but the pleading soul presses on Him His knowledge as a
plea that He would not be deaf to its cry nor far from its help. The
greedy eyes of the enemy round the psalmist gloat on their prey; but
he cries aloud to his God, and dares to speak to Him as if He were
deaf and far off, inactive and asleep. The imagery of the lawsuit
reappears in fuller form here. "My cause" in ver. 23 is a noun cognate
with the verb rendered "plead" or "strive" in ver. 1; "Judge me" in
ver. 24 does not mean, Pronounce sentence on my character and conduct,
but, Do me right in this case of mine _versus_ my gratuitous foes.

Again recurs the prayer for their confusion, which clearly has no
wider scope than concerning the matter in hand. It is no breach of
Christian charity to pray that hostile devices may fail. The vivid
imagination of the poet hears the triumphant exclamations of gratified
hatred: "Oho! our desire!" "We have swallowed him," and sums up the
character of his enemies in the two traits of malicious joy in his
hurt and self-exaltation in their hostility to him.

At last the prayer, which has run through so many moods of feeling,
settles itself into restful contemplation of the sure results of
Jehovah's sure deliverance. One receives the blessing; many rejoice in
it. In significant antithesis to the enemies' joy is the joy of the
rescued man's lovers and favourers. Their "saying" stands over against
the silenced boastings of the losers of the suit. The latter
"magnified themselves," but the end of Jehovah's deliverance will be
that true hearts will "magnify" Him. The victor in the cause will give
all the praise to the Judge, and he and his friends will unite in
self-oblivious praise. Those who delight in his righteousness are of
one mind with Jehovah, and magnify Him because He "delights in the
peace of His servant." While they ring out their praises, the humble
suppliant, whose cry has brought the Divine act which has waked all
this surging song, "shall musingly speak in the low murmur of one
entranced by a sweet thought" (Cheyne), or, if we might use a fine old
word, shall "croon" over God's righteousness all the day long. That is
the right end of mercies received. Whether there be many voices to
join in praise or no, one voice should not be silent, that of the
receiver of the blessings, and, even when he pauses in his song, his
heart should keep singing day-long and life-long praises.




                              PSALM XXXVI.

   1  The wicked has an Oracle of Transgression within his heart;
      There is no fear of God before his eyes.
   2  For it speaks smooth things to him in his imagination (eyes)
      As to finding out his iniquity, as to hating [it].

   3  The words of his mouth are iniquity and deceit;
      He has ceased being wise, doing good.
   4  He plots mischief upon his bed;
      He sets himself firmly in a way [that is] not good;
      Evil he loathes not.

   5  Jehovah, Thy loving-kindness is in the heavens,
      Thy faithfulness is unto the clouds.
   6  Thy righteousness is like the mountains of God,
      Thy judgments a mighty deep;
      Man and beast preservest Thou, Jehovah.

   7  How precious is Thy loving-kindness, Jehovah, O God!
      And the sons of men in the shadow of Thy wings take refuge.
   8  They are satisfied from the fatness of Thy house,
      And [of] the river of Thy delights Thou givest them to drink.
   9  For with Thee is the fountain of life;
      In Thy light do we see light.

  10  Continue Thy loving-kindness to those who know Thee,
      And Thy righteousness to the upright in heart.
  11  Let not the foot of pride come against me,
      And the hand of the wicked--let it not drive me forth.

  12  There the workers of iniquity are fallen;
      They are struck down, and are not able to rise.


The supposition that the sombre picture of "the wicked" in vv. 1-4 was
originally unconnected with the glorious hymn in vv. 5-9 fails to give
weight to the difference between the sober pace of pedestrian prose and
the swift flight of winged poetry. It fails also in apprehending the
instinctive turning of a devout meditative spectator from the darkness
of earth and its sins to the light above. The one refuge from the sad
vision of evil here is in the faith that God is above it all, and that
His name is Mercy. Nor can the blackness of the one picture be anywhere
so plainly seen as when it is set in front of the brightness of the
other. A religious man, who has laid to heart the miserable sights of
which earth is full, will scarcely think that the psalmist's quick
averting of his eyes from these to steep them in the light of God is
unnatural, or that the original connection of the two parts of this
psalm is an artificial supposition. Besides this, the closing section of
prayer is tinged with references to the first part, and derives its
_raison d'etre_ from it. The three parts form an organic whole.

The gnarled obscurity of the language in which the "wicked" is described
corresponds to the theme, and contrasts strikingly with the limpid flow
of the second part. "The line, too, labours" as it tries to tell the
dark thoughts that move to dark deeds. Vv. 1, 2, unveil the secret
beliefs of the sinner, vv. 3, 4, his consequent acts. As the text
stands, it needs much torturing to get a tolerable meaning out of ver.
1, and the slight alteration, found in the LXX. and in some old
versions, of "his heart" instead of "my heart" smooths the difficulty.
We have then a bold personification of "Transgression" as speaking in
the secret heart of the wicked, as in some dark cave, such as heathen
oracle-mongers haunted. There is bitter irony in using the sacred word
which stamped the prophets' utterances, and which we may translate
"oracle," for the godless lies muttered in the sinner's heart. This is
the account of how men come to do evil: that there is a voice within
whispering falsehood. And the reason why that bitter voice has the
shrine to itself is that "there is no fear of God before" the man's
"eyes." The two clauses of ver. 1 are simply set side by side, leaving
the reader to spell out their logical relation. Possibly the absence of
the fear of God may be regarded as both the occasion and the result of
the oracle of Transgression, since, in fact, it is both. Still more
obscure is ver. 2. Who is the "flatterer"? The answers are conflicting.
The "wicked," say some, but if so, "in his own eyes" is superfluous;
"God," say others, but that requires a doubtful meaning for
"flatters"--namely, "treats gently"--and is open to the same objection
as the preceding in regard to "in his own eyes." The most natural
supposition is that "transgression," which was represented in ver. 1 as
speaking, is here also meant. Clearly the person in whose eyes the
flattery is real is the wicked, and therefore its speaker must be
another. "Sin beguiled me," says Paul, and therein echoes this psalmist.
Transgression in its oracle is one of "those juggling fiends that palter
with us in a double sense," promising delights and impunity. But the
closing words of ver. 2 are a crux. Conjectural emendations have been
suggested, but do not afford much help. Probably the best way is to take
the text as it stands, and make the best of it. The meaning it yields is
harsh, but tolerable: "to find out his sin, to hate" (it?). Who finds
out sin? God. If He is the finder, it is He who also "hates"; and if it
is sin that is the object of the one verb, it is most natural to suppose
it that of the other also. The two verbs are infinitives, with the
preposition of purpose or of reference prefixed. Either meaning is
allowable. If the preposition is taken as implying reference, the sense
will be that the glosing whispers of sin deceive a man in regard to the
discovery of his wrong-doing and God's displeasure at it. Impunity is
promised, and God's holiness is smoothed down. If, on the other hand,
the idea of purpose is adopted, the solemn thought emerges that the
oracle is spoken with intent to ruin the deluded listener and set his
secret sins in the condemning light of God's face. Sin is cruel, and a
traitor. This profound glimpse into the depths of a soul without the
fear of God is followed by the picture of the consequences of such
practical atheism, as seen in conduct. It is deeply charged with
blackness and unrelieved by any gleam of light. Falsehood, abandonment
of all attempts to do right, insensibility to the hallowing influences
of nightly solitude, when men are wont to see their evil more clearly in
the dark, like phosphorus streaks on the wall, obstinate planting the
feet in ways not good, a silenced conscience which has no movement of
aversion to evil--these are the fruits of that oracle of Transgression
when it has its perfect work. We may call such a picture the
idealisation of the character described, but there have been men who
realised it, and the warning is weighty that such a uniform and
all-enwrapping darkness is the terrible goal towards which all listening
to that bitter voice tends. No wonder that the psalmist wrenches himself
swiftly away from such a sight!

The two strophes of the second division (vv. 5, 6, and 7-9) present
the glorious realities of the Divine name in contrast with the false
oracle of vv. 1, 2, and the blessedness of God's guests in contrast
with the gloomy picture of the "wicked" in vv. 3, 4. It is noteworthy
that the first and last-named "attributes" are the same.
"Loving-kindness" begins and ends the glowing series. That stooping,
active love encloses, like a golden circlet, all else that men can
know or say of the perfection whose name is God. It is the white beam
into which all colours melt, and from which all are evolved. As
science feels after the reduction of all forms of physical energy to
one, for which there is no name but energy, all the adorable glories
of God pass into one, which He has bidden us call love. "Thy
loving-kindness is in the heavens," towering on high. It is like some
Divine aether, filling all space. The heavens are the home of light.
They arch above every head; they rim every horizon; they are filled
with nightly stars; they open into abysses as the eye gazes; they bend
unchanged and untroubled above a weary earth; from them fall
benedictions of rain and sunshine. All these subordinate allusions may
lie in the psalmist's thought, while its main intention is to magnify
the greatness of that mercy as heaven-high.

But mercy standing alone might seem to lack a guarantee of its
duration, and therefore the strength of "faithfulness," unalterable
continuance in a course begun, and adherence to every promise either
spoken in words or implied in creation or providence, is added to the
tenderness of mercy. The boundlessness of that faithfulness is the
main thought, but the contrast of the whirling, shifting clouds with
it is striking. The realm of eternal purpose and enduring act reaches
to and stretches above the lower region where change rules.

But a third glory has yet to be flashed before glad eyes, God's
"righteousness," which here is not merely nor mainly punitive, but
delivering, or, perhaps in a still wider view, the perfect conformity
of His nature with the ideal of ethical completeness. Right is the
same for heaven as for earth, and "whatsoever things are just" have
their home in the bosom of God. The point of comparison with "the
mountains of God" is, as in the previous clauses, their loftiness,
which expresses greatness and elevation above our reach; but the
subsidiary ideas of permanence and sublimity are not to be overlooked.
"The mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed, but His
righteousness endures for ever." There is safe hiding there, in the
fastnesses of that everlasting hill. From character the psalmist
passes to acts, and sets all the Divine dealings forth under the one
category of "judgments," the utterances in act of His judicial
estimate of men. Mountains seem highest and ocean broadest when the
former rise sheer from the water's edge, as Carmel does. The
immobility of the silent hills is wonderfully contrasted with the
ever-moving sea, which to the Hebrew was the very home of mystery. The
obscurity of the Divine judgments is a subject of praise, if we hold
fast by faith in God's loving-kindness, faithfulness, and
righteousness. They are obscure by reason of their vast scale, which
permits the vision of only a fragment. How little of the ocean is seen
from any shore! But there is no arbitrary obscurity. The sea is "of
glass mingled with fire"; and if the eye cannot pierce its depths, it
is not because of any darkening impurity in the crystal clearness, but
simply because not even light can travel to the bottom. The higher up
on the mountains men go, the deeper down can they see into that ocean.
It is a hymn, not an indictment, which says, "Thy judgments are a
great deep." But however the heights tower and the abysses open, there
is a strip of green, solid earth on which "man and beast" live in
safe plenty. The plain blessings of an all-embracing providence should
make it easier to believe in the unmingled goodness of acts which are
too vast for men to judge and of that mighty name which towers above
their conceptions. What they see is goodness; what they cannot see
must be of a piece. The psalmist is in "that serene and blessed mood"
when the terrible mysteries of creation and providence do not
interfere with his "steadfast faith that all which he beholds is full
of blessings." There are times when these mysteries press with
agonising force on devout souls, but there should also be moments when
the pure love of the perfectly good God is seen to fill all space and
outstretch all dimensions of height and depth and breadth. The awful
problems of pain and death will be best dealt with by those who can
echo the rapture of this psalm.

If God is such, what is man's natural attitude to so great and sweet a
name? Glad wonder, accepting His gift as the one precious thing, and
faith sheltering beneath the great shadow of His outstretched wing.
The exclamation in ver. 8, "How precious is Thy loving-kindness!"
expresses not only its intrinsic value, but the devout soul's
appreciation of it. The secret of blessedness and test of true wisdom
lie in a sane estimate of the worth of God's loving-kindness as
compared with all other treasures. Such an estimate leads to trust in
Him, as the psalmist implies by his juxtaposition of the two clauses
of ver. 7, though he connects them, not by an expressed "therefore,"
but by the simple copula. The representation of trust as taking refuge
reappears here, with its usual suggestions of haste and peril. The
"wing" of God suggests tenderness and security. And the reason for
trust is enforced in the designation "sons of men," partakers of
weakness and mortality, and therefore needing the refuge which, in the
wonderfulness of His loving-kindness, they find under the pinions of
so great a God.

The psalm follows the refugees into their hiding-place, and shows how
much more than bare shelter they find there. They are God's guests,
and royally entertained as such. The joyful priestly feasts in the
Temple colour the metaphor, but the idea of hospitable reception of
guests is the more prominent. The psalmist speaks the language of that
true and wholesome mysticism without which religion is feeble and
formal. The root ideas of his delineation of the blessedness of the
fugitives to God are their union with God and possession of Him. Such
is the magical might of lowly trust that by it weak dying "sons of
men" are so knit to the God whose glories the singer has been
celebrating that they partake of Himself and are saturated with His
sufficiency, drink of His delights in some deep sense, bathe in the
fountain of life, and have His light for their organ and medium and
object of sight. These great sentences beggar all exposition. They
touch on the rim of infinite things, whereof only the nearer fringe
comes within our ken in this life. The soul that lives in God is
satisfied, having real possession of the only adequate object. The
variety of desires, appetites, and needs requires manifoldness in
their food, but the unity of our nature demands that all that
manifoldness should be in One. Multiplicity in objects, aims, loves,
is misery; oneness is blessedness. We need a lasting good and an
ever-growing one to meet and unfold the capacity of indefinite growth.
Nothing but God can satisfy the narrowest human capacity.

Union with Him is the source of all delight, as of all true fruition
of desires. Possibly a reference to Eden may be intended in the
selection of the word for "pleasures," which is a cognate with that
name. So there may be allusion to the river which watered that garden,
and the thought may be that the present life of the guest of God is
not all unlike the delights of that vanished paradise. We may perhaps
scarcely venture on supposing that "Thy pleasures" means those which
the blessed God Himself possesses; but even if we take the lower and
safer meaning of those which God gives, we may bring into connection
Christ's own gift to His disciples of His own peace, and His assurance
that faithful servants will "enter into the joy of their Lord."
Shepherd and sheep drink of the same brook by the way and of the same
living fountains above. The psalmist's conception of religion is
essentially joyful. No doubt there are sources of sadness peculiar to
a religious man, and he is necessarily shut out from much of the
effervescent poison of earthly joys drugged with sin. Much in his life
is inevitably grave, stern, and sad. But the sources of joy opened are
far deeper than those that are closed. Surface wells (many of them
little better than open sewers) may be shut up, but an unfailing
stream is found in the desert. Satisfaction and joy flow from God,
because life and light are with Him; and therefore he who is with Him
has them for his. "With Thee is the fountain of life" is true in every
sense of the word "life." In regard to life natural, the saying
embodies a loftier conception of the Creator's relation to the
creature than the mechanical notion of creation. The fountain pours
its waters into stream or basin, which it keeps full by continual
flow. Stop the efflux, and these are dried up. So the great mystery of
life in all its forms is as a spark from a fire, a drop from a
fountain, or, as Scripture puts it in regard to man, a breath from
God's own lips. In a very real sense, wherever life is, there God is,
and only by some form of union with Him or by the presence of His
power, which is Himself, do creatures live. But the psalm is dealing
with the blessings belonging to those who trust beneath the shadow of
God's wing; therefore life here, in this verse, is no equivalent to
mere existence, physical or self-conscious, but it must be taken in
its highest spiritual sense. Union with God is its condition, and that
union is brought to pass by taking refuge with Him. The deep words
anticipated the explicit teaching of the Gospel in so far as they
proclaimed these truths, but the greatest utterance still remained
unspoken: that this life is "in His Son."

Light and life are closely connected. Whether knowledge, purity, or
joy is regarded as the dominant idea in the symbol, or whether all are
united in it, the profound words of the psalm are true. In God's light
we see light. In the lowest region "the seeing eye is from the Lord."
"The inspiration of the Almighty giveth understanding." Faculty and
medium of vision are both of Him. But hearts in communion with God are
illumined, and they who are "in the light" cannot walk in darkness.
Practical wisdom is theirs. The light of God, like the star of the
Magi, stoops to guide pilgrims' steps. Clear certitude as to sovereign
realities is the guerdon of the guests of God. Where other eyes see
nothing but mists, they can discern solid land and the gleaming towers
of the city across the sea. Nor is that light only the dry light by
which we know, but it means purity and joy also; and to "see light" is
to possess these too by derivation from the purity and joy of God
Himself. He is the "master light of all our seeing." The fountain has
become a stream, and taken to itself movement towards men; for the
psalmist's glowing picture is more than fulfilled in Jesus Christ, who
has said, "I am the Light of the world; he that followeth me shall not
walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life."

The closing division is prayer, based both upon the contemplation of
God's attributes in vv. 5, 6, and of the wicked in the first part. This
distinct reference to both the preceding sections is in favour of the
original unity of the psalm. The belief in the immensity of Divine
loving-kindness and righteousness inspires the prayer for their
long-drawn-out (so "continue" means literally) continuance to the
psalmist and his fellows. He will not separate himself from these in his
petition, but thinks of them before himself. "Those who know Thee" are
those who take refuge under the shadow of the great wing. Their
knowledge is intimate, vital; it is acquaintanceship, not mere
intellectual apprehension. It is such as to purge the heart and make its
possessors upright. Thus we have set forth in that sequence of trust,
knowledge, and uprightness stages of growing Godlikeness closely
corresponding to the Gospel sequence of faith, love, and holiness. Such
souls are _capaces Dei_, fit to receive the manifestations of God's
loving-kindness and righteousness; and from such these will never
remove. They will stand stable as His firm attributes, and the spurning
foot of proud oppressors shall not trample on them, nor violent hands be
able to stir them from their steadfast, secure place. The prayer of the
psalm goes deeper than any mere deprecation of earthly removal, and is
but prosaically understood, if thought to refer to exile or the like.
The dwelling-place from which it beseeches that the suppliant may never
be removed is his safe refuge beneath the wing, or in the house, of God.
Christ answered it when He said, "No man is able to pluck them out of my
Father's hand." The one desire of the heart which has tasted the
abundance, satisfaction, delights, fulness of life, and clearness of
light that attend the presence of God is that nothing may draw it
thence.

Prayer wins prophetic certitude. From his serene shelter under the
wing, the suppliant looks out on the rout of battled foes, and sees
the end which gives the lie to the oracle of transgression and its
flatteries. "They are struck down," the same word as in the picture of
the pursuing angel of the Lord in Psalm xxxv. Here the agent of their
fall is unnamed, but one power only can inflict such irrevocable ruin.
God, who is the shelter of the upright in heart, has at last found out
the sinners' iniquity, and His hatred of sin stands ready to "smite
once, and smite no more."




                             PSALM XXXVII.

   1  ([Hebrew: alef]) Heat not thyself because of the evil-doers;
      Be not envious because of the workers of perversity
   2  For like grass shall they swiftly fade,
      And like green herbage shall they wither.

   3  ([Hebrew: bet]) Trust in Jehovah, and do good;
      Inhabit the land, and feed on faithfulness.
   4  And delight thyself in Jehovah,
      And He shall give thee the desires of thy heart.

   5  ([Hebrew: gimel]) Roll thy way upon Jehovah,
      And trust in Him, and He shall do [all that thou dost need].
   6  And He shall bring forth as the light thy righteousness,
      And thy judgment as the noonday.

   7  ([Hebrew: dalet]) Be silent to Jehovah, and wait patiently for
            Him;
      Heat not thyself because of him who makes his way prosperous,
      Because of the man who carries out intrigues.

   8  ([Hebrew: he]) Cease from anger, and forsake wrath;
      Heat not thyself: [it leads] only to doing evil.
   9  For evil-doers shall be cut off;
      And they who wait on Jehovah--they shall inherit the land.

  10  ([Hebrew: vav]) And yet a little while, and the wicked is no more,
      And thou shalt take heed to his place, and he is not [there].
  11  And the meek shall inherit the land,
      And delight themselves in the abundance of peace.

  12  ([Hebrew: zayin]) The wicked intrigues against the righteous,
      And grinds his teeth at him.
  13  The Lord laughs at him,
      For He sees that his day is coming.

  14  ([Hebrew: het]) The wicked draw sword and bend their bow,
      To slay the afflicted and poor,
      To butcher the upright in way;
  15  Their sword shall enter into their own heart,
      And their bows shall be broken.

  16  ([Hebrew: tet]) Better is the little of the righteous
      Than the abundance of many wicked.
  17  For the arms of the wicked shall be broken,
      And Jehovah holds up the righteous.

  18  ([Hebrew: yod]) Jehovah has knowledge of the days of the perfect,
      And their inheritance shall be for ever;
  19  They shall not be put to shame in the time of evil,
      And in the days of famine they shall be satisfied.

  20  ([Hebrew: kaf]) For the wicked shall perish,
      And the enemies of Jehovah shall be like the beauty of the
            pastures;
      They melt away in smoke: they melt away.

  21  ([Hebrew: lamed]) The wicked borrows, and does not pay;
      And the righteous deals generously, and gives.
  22  For His blessed ones shall inherit the earth,
      And His cursed ones shall be cut off.

  23  ([Hebrew: mem]) From Jehovah are a man's steps established,
      And He delighteth in his way;
  24  If he falls, he shall not lie prostrate,
      For Jehovah holds up his hand.

  25  ([Hebrew: nun]) A youth have I been, now I am old,
      And I have not seen a righteous man forsaken,
      Or his seed begging bread.
  26  All day long he is dealing generously and lending,
      And his seed is blessed.

  27  ([Hebrew: samekh]) Depart from evil, and do good;
      And dwell for evermore.
  28  For Jehovah loves judgment,
      And forsakes not them whom He favours.

      ([Hebrew: ayin]) They are preserved for ever
      (The unrighteous are destroyed for ever?),
      And the seed of the wicked is cut off.
  29  The righteous shall inherit the land,
      And dwell thereon for ever.

  30  ([Hebrew: pe]) The mouth of the righteous meditates wisdom,
      And his tongue speaks judgment.
  31  The law of his God is in his heart;
      His steps shall not waver.

  32  ([Hebrew: tsadi]) The wicked watches the righteous,
      And seeks to slay him;
  33  Jehovah will not leave him in his hand,
      And will not condemn him when he is judged.

  34  ([Hebrew: qof]) Wait for Jehovah, and keep His way,
      And He will exalt thee to inherit the land;
      When the wicked is cut off, thou shalt see [it].

  35  ([Hebrew: resh]) I have seen the wicked terror-striking
      And spreading himself abroad like [a tree] native to the soil
            [and] green.
  36  And he passed (I passed by?), and lo, he was not [there];
      And I sought for him, and he was not to be found.

  37  ([Hebrew: shin]) Mark the perfect, and behold the upright;
      For there is a posterity to the man of peace.
  38  And apostates are destroyed together;
      The posterity of the wicked is cut off.

  39  ([Hebrew: tav]) And the salvation of the righteous is from
            Jehovah,
      Their stronghold in time of trouble.
  40  And Jehovah helps them and rescues them;
      He rescues them from the wicked, and saves them,
      Because they take refuge in Him.


There is a natural connection between acrostic structure and didactic
tone, as is shown in several instances, and especially in this psalm.
The structure is on the whole regular, each second verse beginning
with the required letter, but here and there the period is curtailed
or elongated by one member. Such irregularities do not seem to mark
stages in the thought or breaks in the sequence, but are simply
reliefs to the monotony of the rhythm, like the shiftings of the place
of the pause in blank verse, the management of which makes the
difference between a master and a bungler. The psalm grapples with the
problem which tried the faith of the Old Testament saints--namely, the
apparent absence of correlation of conduct with condition--and solves
it by the strong assertion of the brevity of godless prosperity and
the certainty that well-doing will lean to well-being. The principle
is true absolutely in the long run, but there is no reference in the
psalm to the future life. Visible material prosperity is its promise
for the righteous, and the opposite its threatening for the godless.
No doubt retribution is not wholly postponed till another life, but it
does not fall so surely and visibly as this psalm would lead us to
expect. The relative imperfection of the Old Testament revelation is
reflected in the Psalms, faith's answer to Heaven's word. The clear
light of New Testament revelation of the future is wanting, nor could
the truest view of the meaning and blessedness of sorrow be adequately
and proportionately held before Christ had taught it by His own
history and by His words. The Cross was needed before the mystery of
righteous suffering could be fully elucidated, and the psalmist's
solution is but provisional. His faith that infinite love ruled and
that righteousness was always gain, and sin loss, is grandly and
eternally true. Nor is it to be forgotten that he lived and sang in an
order of things in which the Divine government had promised material
blessings as the result of spiritual faithfulness, and that, with
whatever anomalies, modest prosperity did, on the whole, attend the
true Israelite. The Scripture books which wrestle most profoundly with
the standing puzzle of prosperous evil and afflicted goodness are late
books, not merely because religious reflectiveness was slowly evolved,
but because decaying faith had laid Israel open to many wounds, and
the condition of things which accompanied the decline of the ancient
order abounded with instances of triumphant wickedness.

But though this psalm does not go to the bottom of its theme, its
teaching of the blessedness of absolute trust in God's providence is
ever fresh, and fits close to all stages of revelation; and its
prophecies of triumph for the afflicted who trust and of confusion to
the evil-doer need only to be referred to the end to be completely
established. As a theodicy, or vindication of the ways of God with
men, it was true for its age, but the New Testament goes beneath it.
As an exhortation to patient trust and an exhibition of the sure
blessings thereof, it remains what it has been to many generations:
the gentle encourager of meek faith and the stay of afflicted hearts.

Marked progress of thought is not to be looked for in an acrostic
psalm. In the present instance the same ideas are reiterated with
emphatic persistence, but little addition or variation. To the
didactic poet "to write the same things is not grievous," for they are
his habitual thoughts; and for his scholars "it is safe," for there is
no better aid to memory than the cadenced monotony of the same ideas
cast into song and slightly varied. But a possible grouping may be
suggested by observing that the thought of the "cutting off" of the
wicked and the inheritance of the land by the righteous occurs three
times. If it is taken as a kind of refrain, we may cast the psalm into
four portions, the first three of which close with that double
thought. Vv. 1-9 will then form a group, characterised by exhortations
to trust and assurances of triumph. The second section will then be
vv. 10-22, which, while reiterating the ground tone of the whole, does
so with a difference, inasmuch as its main thought is the destruction
of the wicked, in contrast with the triumph of the righteous in the
preceding verses. A third division will be vv. 23-29, of which the
chief feature is the adduction of the psalmist's own experience as
authenticating his teaching in regard to the Divine care of the
righteous, and that extended to his descendants. The last section (vv.
30-40) gathers up all, reasserts the main thesis, and confirms it by
again adducing the psalmist's experience in confirmation of the other
half of his assurances, namely the destruction of the wicked. But the
poet does not wish to close his words with that gloomy picture, and
therefore this last section bends round again to reiterate and
strengthen the promises for the righteous, and its last note is one of
untroubled trust and joy in experienced deliverance.

The first portion (vv. 1-9) consists of a series of exhortations to
trust and patience, accompanied by assurance of consequent blessing.
These are preceded and followed by a dehortation from yielding to the
temptation of fretting against the prosperity of evil-doers, based
upon the assurance of its transitoriness. Thus the positive precepts
inculcating the ideal temper to be cultivated are framed in a setting
of negatives, inseparable from them. The tendency to murmur at
flaunting wrong must be repressed if the disposition of trust is to be
cultivated; and, on the other hand, full obedience to the negative
precepts is only possible when the positive ones have been obeyed with
some degree of completeness. The soul's husbandry must be busied in
grubbing up weeds as well as in sowing; but the true way to take away
nourishment from the baser is to throw the strength of the soil into
growing the nobler crop. "Fret not thyself" (A.V.) is literally, "Heat
not thyself," and "Be not envious" is "Do not glow," the root idea
being that of becoming fiery red. The one word expresses the kindling
emotion, the other its visible sign in the flushed face. Envy, anger,
and any other violent and God-forgetting emotion are included. There
is nothing in the matter in hand worth getting into a heat about, for
the prosperity in question is short-lived. This leading conviction
moulds the whole psalm, and, as we have pointed out, is half of the
refrain. We look for the other half to accompany it, as usual, and we
find it in one rendering of ver. 3, which has fallen into discredit
with modern commentators, and to which we shall come presently; but
for the moment we may pause to suggest that the picture of the herbage
withering as soon as cut, under the fierce heat of the Eastern sun,
may stand in connection with the metaphors in ver. 1. Why should we
blaze with indignation when so much hotter a glow will dry up the cut
grass? Let it wave in brief glory, unmeddled with by us. The scythe
and the sunshine will soon make an end. The precept and its reason are
not on the highest levels of Christian ethics, but they are unfairly
dealt with if taken to mean, Do not envy the wicked man's prosperity,
nor wish it were yours, but solace yourself with the assurance of his
speedy ruin. What is said is far nobler than that. It is, Do not let
the prosperity of unworthy men shake your faith in God's government,
nor fling you into an unwholesome heat, for God will sweep away the
anomaly in due time.

In regard to the positive precepts, the question arises whether ver. 3
_b_ is command or promise, with which is associated another question
as to the translation of the words rendered by the A.V., "Verily thou
shalt be fed," and by the R.V., "Follow after faithfulness." The
relation of the first and second parts of the subsequent verses is in
favour of regarding the clause as promise, but the force of that
consideration is somewhat weakened by the non-occurrence in ver. 3 of
the copula which introduces the promises of the other verses. Still
its omission does not seem sufficient to forbid taking the clause as
corresponding with these. The imperative is similarly used as
substantially a future in ver. 27: "and dwell for evermore." The fact
that in every other place in the psalm where "dwelling in the land" is
spoken of it is a promise of the sure results of trust, points to the
same sense here, and the juxtaposition of the two ideas in the refrain
leads us to expect to find the prediction of ver. 2 followed by its
companion there. On the whole, then, to understand ver. 3 _b_ as
promise seems best. (So LXX., Ewald, Graetz, etc.) What, then, is the
meaning of its last words? If they are a continuation of the promise,
they must describe some blessed effect of trust. Two renderings
present themselves, one that adopted in the R.V. margin, "Feed
securely," and another "Feed on faithfulness" (_i.e._, of God).
Hupfeld calls this an "arbitrary and forced" reference of
"faithfulness"; but it worthily completes the great promise. The
blessed results of trust and active goodness are stable dwelling in
the land and nourishment there from a faithful God. The thoughts move
within the Old Testament circle, but their substance is eternally
true, for they who take God for their portion have a safe abode, and
feed their souls on His unalterable adherence to His promises and on
the abundance flowing thence.

The subsequent precepts bear a certain relation to each other, and,
taken together, make a lovely picture of the inner secret of the
devout life: "Delight thyself in Jehovah; roll thy way on Him; trust
in Him; be silent to Jehovah." No man will commit his way to God who
does not delight in Him; and unless he has so committed his way, he
cannot rest in the Lord. The heart that delights in God, finding its
truest joy in Him and being well and at ease when consciously moving
in Him as an all-encompassing atmosphere and reaching towards Him with
the deepest of its desires, will live far above the region of
disappointment. For it desire and fruition go together. Longings fixed
on Him fulfil themselves. We can have as much of God as we wish. If He
is our delight, we shall wish nothing contrary to nor apart from Him,
and wishes which are directed to Him cannot be in vain. To delight in
God is to possess our delight, and in Him to find fulfilled wishes and
abiding joys. "Commit thy way unto Him," or "Roll it upon Him" in the
exercise of trust; and, as the verse says with grand generality,
omitting to specify an object for the verb, "He will do"--all that is
wanted, or will finish the work. To roll one's way upon Jehovah
implies subordination of will and judgment to Him and quiet confidence
in His guidance. If the heart delights in Him, and the will waits
silent before Him, and a happy consciousness of dependence fills the
soul, the desert will not be trackless, nor the travellers fail to
hear the voice which says, "This is the way; walk ye in it." He who
trusts is led, and God works for him, clearing away clouds and
obstructions. His good may be evil spoken of, but the vindication by
fact will make his righteousness shine spotless; and his cause may be
apparently hopeless, but God will deliver him. He shall shine forth as
the sun, not only in such earthly vindication as the psalmist
prophesied, but more resplendently, as Christian faith has been gifted
with long sight to anticipate, "in the kingdom of my Father." Thus
delighting and trusting, a man may "be silent." Be still before
Jehovah, in the silence of a submissive heart, and let not that
stillness be torpor, but gather thyself together and stretch out thy
hope towards Him. That patience is no mere passive endurance without
murmuring, but implies tension of expectance. Only if it is thus
occupied will it be possible to purge the heart of that foolish and
weakening heat which does no harm to any one but to the man himself.
"Heat not thyself; it only leads to doing evil." Thus the section
returns upon itself and once more ends with the unhesitating
assurance, based upon the very essence of God's covenant with the
nation, that righteousness is the condition of inheritance, and sin
the cause of certain destruction. The narrower application of the
principle, which was all that the then stage of revelation made clear
to the psalmist, melts away for us into the Christian certainty that
righteousness is the condition of dwelling in the true land of
promise, and that sin is always death, in germ or in full fruitage.

The refrain occurs next in ver. 22, and the portion thus marked off
(vv. 10-22) may be dealt with as a smaller whole. After a repetition
(vv. 10, 11) of the main thesis slightly expanded, it sketches in
vivid outline the fury of "the wicked" against "the just" and the grim
retribution that turns their weapons into agents of their destruction.
How dramatically are contrasted the two pictures of the quiet
righteous in the former section and of this raging enemy, with his
gnashing teeth and arsenal of murder! And with what crushing force the
thought of the awful laughter of Jehovah, in foresight of the swift
flight towards the blind miscreant of the day of his fall, which has
already, as it were, set out on its road, smites his elaborate
preparations into dust! Silently the good man sits wrapped in his
faith. Without are raging, armed foes. Above, the laughter of God
rolls thunderous, and from the throne the obedient "day" is winging
its flight, like an eagle with lightning bolts in its claws. What can
the end be but another instance of the solemn lex talionis, by which a
man's evil slays himself?

Various forms of the contrast between the two classes follow, with
considerable repetition and windings. One consideration which has to
be taken into account in estimating the distribution of material
prosperity is strongly put in vv. 16, 17. The good of outward
blessings depends chiefly on the character of their owner. The
strength of the extract from a raw material depends on the solvent
applied, and there is none so powerful to draw out the last drop of
most poignant and pure sweetness from earthly good as is righteousness
of heart. Naboth's vineyard will yield better wine, if Naboth is
trusting in Jehovah, than all the vines of Jezreel or Samaria. "Many
wicked" have not as much of the potentiality of blessedness in all
their bursting coffers as a poor widow may distil out of two mites.
The reasons for that are manifold, but the prevailing thought of the
psalm leads to one only being named here. "For," says ver. 17, "the
arms of the wicked shall be broken." Little is the good of possessions
which cannot defend their owners from the stroke of God's
executioners, but themselves pass away. The poor man's little is much,
because, among other reasons, he is upheld by God, and therefore needs
not to cherish anxiety, which embitters the enjoyments of others.
Again the familiar thought of permanent inheritance recurs, but now
with a glance at the picture just drawn of the destruction coming to
the wicked. There are days and days. God saw that day of ruin
speeding on its errand, and He has loving sympathetic knowledge of the
days of the righteous (i. 6), and holds their lives in His hand;
therefore continuance and abundance are ensured.

The antithetical structure of vv. 16-22 is skilfully varied, so as to
avoid monotony. It is elastic within limits. We note that in the Teth
strophe (vv. 16, 17) each verse contains a complete contrast, while in
the Yod strophe (vv. 18, 19) one half only of the contrast is
presented, which would require a similar expansion of the other over
two verses. Instead of this, however, the latter half is compressed
into one verse (20), which is elongated by a clause. Then in the Lamed
strophe (vv. 21, 22) the briefer form recurs, as in vv. 16, 17. Thus
the longer antithesis is enclosed between two parallel shorter ones,
and a certain variety breaks up the sameness of the swing from one
side to the other, and suggests a pause in the flow of the psalm. The
elongated verse (20) reiterates the initial metaphor of withering
herbage (ver. 2) with an addition, for the rendering "fat of lambs"
must be given up as incongruous, and only plausible on account of the
emblem of smoke in the next clause. But the two metaphors are
independent. Just as in ver. 2, so here, the gay "beauty of the
pastures," so soon to wilt and be changed into brown barrenness,
mirrors the fate of the wicked. Ver. 2 shows the grass fallen before
the scythe; ver. 20 lets us see it in its flush of loveliness, so
tragically unlike what it will be when its "day" has come. The other
figure of smoke is a stereotype in all tongues for evanescence. The
thick wreaths thin away and melt. Another peculiar form of the
standing antithesis appears in the Lamed strophe (vv. 21, 22), which
sets forth the gradual impoverishment of the wicked and prosperity as
well as beneficence of the righteous, and, by the "for" of ver. 22,
traces these up to the "curse and blessing of God, which become
manifest in the final destiny of the two" (Delitzsch). Not dishonesty,
but bankruptcy, is the cause of "not paying again"; while, on the
other hand, the blessing of God not only enriches, but softens, making
the heart which has received grace a well-spring of grace to needy
ones, even if they are foes. The form of the contrast suggests its
dependence on the promises in Deut. xii. 44, xv. 6, 28. Thus the
refrain is once more reached, and a new departure taken.

The third section is shorter than the preceding (vv. 23-29), and has,
as its centre, the psalmist's confirmation from his own experience of
the former part of his antithesis, the fourth section similarly
confirming the second. All this third part is sunny with the Divine
favour streaming upon the righteous, the only reference to the wicked
being in the refrain at the close. The first strophe (vv. 23, 24)
declares God's care for the former under the familiar image of
guidance and support to a traveller. As in vv. 5, 7, the "way" is an
emblem of active life, and is designated as "his" who treads it. The
intention of the psalm, the context of the metaphor, and the
parallelism with the verses just referred to, settle the reference of
the ambiguous pronouns "he" and "his" in ver. 23 _b_. God delights in
the good man's way (i. 6), and that is the reason for His establishing
his goings. "Quoniam Deo grata est piorum via, gressus ipsum ad laetum
finem adducit" (Calvin). That promise is not to be limited to either
the material or moral region. The ground tone of the psalm is that the
two regions coincide in so far as prosperity in the outer is the
infallible index of rightness in the inner. The dial has two sets of
hands, one within and one without, but both are, as it were, mounted
on the same spindle, and move accurately alike. Steadfast treading in
the path of duty and successful undertakings are both included, since
they are inseparable in fact. True, even the fixed faith of the
psalmist has to admit that the good man's path is not always smooth.
If facts had not often contradicted his creed, he would never have
sung his song; and hence he takes into account the case of such a
man's falling, and seeks to reduce its importance by the
considerations of its recoverableness and of God's keeping hold of the
man's hand all the while.

The Nun strophe brings in the psalmist's experience to confirm his
doctrine. The studiously impersonal tone of the psalm is dropped only
here and in the complementary reference to the fall of the wicked (vv.
35, 36). Observation and reflection yield the same results. Experience
seals the declarations of faith. His old eyes have seen much; and the
net result is that the righteous may be troubled, but not abandoned,
and that there is an entail of blessing to their children. In general,
experience preaches the same truths to-day, for, on the whole,
wrong-doing lies at the root of most of the hopeless poverty and
misery of modern society. Idleness, recklessness, thriftlessness,
lust, drunkenness, are the potent factors of it; and if their
handiwork and that of the subtler forms of respectable godlessness and
evil were to be eliminated, the sum of human wretchedness would shrink
to very small dimensions. The mystery of suffering is made more
mysterious by ignoring its patent connection with sin, and by denying
the name of sin to many of its causes. If men's conduct were judged by
God's standard, there would be less wonder at God's judgments
manifested in men's suffering.

The solidarity of the family was more strongly felt in ancient times
than in our days of individualism, but even now the children of the
righteous, if they maintain the hereditary character, do largely
realise the blessing which the psalmist declares is uniformly theirs.
He is not to be tied down to literality in his statement of the
general working of things. What he deals with is the prevailing trend,
and isolated exceptions do not destroy his assertion. Of course
continuance in paternal virtues is presupposed as the condition of
succeeding to paternal good. In the strength of the adduced
experience, a hortatory tone, dropped since ver. 8, is resumed, with
reminiscences of that earlier series of counsels. The secret of
permanence is condensed into two antithetical precepts, to depart from
evil and do good, and the key-note is sounded once more in a promise,
cast into the guise of a commandment (compare ver. 3), of unmoved
habitation, which is, however, not to be stretched to refer to a
future life, of which the psalm says nothing. Such permanent abiding
is sure, inasmuch as Jehovah loves judgment and watches over the
objects of His loving-kindness.

The acrostic sequence fails at this point, if the Masoretic text is
adhered to. There is evident disorder in the division of verses, for
ver. 28 has four clauses instead of the normal two. If the superfluous
two are detached from it and connected as one strophe with ver. 29, a
regular two-versed and four-claused strophe results. Its first word
(L'olam = "for ever") has the Ayin, due in the alphabetical sequence,
in its second letter, the first being a prefixed preposition, which
may be passed over, as in ver. 39 the copula Vav is prefixed to the
initial letter. Delitzsch takes this to be the required letter; but if
so, another irregularity remains, inasmuch as the first couplet of the
strophe should be occupied with the fate of the wicked, as
antithetical to that of the righteous in ver. 29. "They are preserved
for ever" throws the whole strophe out of order. Probably, therefore,
there is textual corruption here, which the LXX. helps in correcting.
It has an evidently double rendering of the clause, as is not
unfrequently the case where there is ambiguity or textual difficulty,
and gives side by side with "They shall be preserved for ever" the
rendering "The lawless shall be hunted out," which can be re-turned
into Hebrew so as to give the needed initial Ayin either in a somewhat
rare word, or in one which occurs in ver. 35. If this correction is
adopted, the anomalies disappear, and strophe, division, acrostic, and
antithetical refrain are all in order.

The last section (ver. 30 to end), like the preceding, has the
psalmist's experience for its centre, and traces the entail of conduct
to a second generation of evil-doers, as the former did to the seed of
the righteous. Both sections begin with the promise of firmness for the
"goings or steps" of the righteous, but the later verses expand the
thought by a fuller description of the moral conditions of stability.
"The law of his God is in his heart." That is the foundation on which
all permanence is built. From that as centre there issue wise and just
words on the one hand and stable deeds on the other. That is true in the
psalmist's view in reference to outward success and continuance, but
still more profoundly in regard to steadfast progress in paths of
righteousness. He who orders his footsteps by God's known will is saved
from much hesitancy, vacillation, and stumbling, and plants a firm foot
even on slippery places.

Once more the picture of the enmity of the wicked recurs, as in vv.
12-14, with the difference that there the emphasis was laid on the
destruction of the plotters, and here it is put on the vindication of
the righteous by acts of deliverance (vv. 32, 33).

In ver. 34 another irregularity occurs, in its being the only verse in
a strophe and being prolonged to three clauses. This may be intended
to give emphasis to the exhortation contained in it, which, like that
in ver. 27, is the only one in its section. The two key words
"inherit" and "cut off" are brought together. Not only are the two
fates set in contrast, but the waiters on Jehovah are promised the
sight of the destruction of the wicked. Satisfaction at the sight is
implied. There is nothing unworthy in solemn thankfulness when God's
judgments break the teeth of some devouring lion. Divine judgments
minister occasion for praise even from pure spirits before the throne,
and men relieved from the incubus of godless oppression may well draw
a long breath of relief, which passes into celebration of His
righteous acts. No doubt there is a higher tone, which remembers ruth
and pity even in that solemn joy; but Christian feeling does not
destroy but modify the psalmist's thankfulness for the sweeping away
of godless antagonism to goodness.

His assurance to those who wait on Jehovah has his own experience as its
guarantee (ver. 35), just as the complementary assurance in ver. 24 had
in ver. 25. The earlier metaphors of the green herbage and the beauty of
the pastures are heightened now. A venerable, wide-spreading giant of
the forests, rooted in its native soil, is grander than those humble
growths; but for lofty cedars or lowly grass the end is the same. Twice
the psalmist stood at the same place; once the great tree laid its large
limbs across the field, and lifted a firm bole: again he came, and a
clear space revealed how great had been the bulk which shadowed it. Not
even a stump was left to tell where the leafy glory had been.

Vv. 37, 38, make the Shin strophe, and simply reiterate the antithesis
which has moulded the whole psalm, with the addition of that reference
to a second generation which appeared in the third and fourth parts. The
word rendered in the A.V. and R.V. "latter end" here means posterity.
The "perfect man" is further designated as a "man of peace."

The psalm might have ended with this gathering together of its
contents in one final emphatic statement, but the poet will not leave
the stern words of destruction as his last. Therefore he adds a sweet,
long-drawn-out close, like the calm, extended clouds, that lie
motionless in the western sky after a day of storm, in which he once
more sings of the blessedness of those who wait on Jehovah. Trouble
will come, notwithstanding his assurances that righteousness is
blessedness; but in it Jehovah will be a fortress home, and out of it
He will save them. However the teaching of the psalm may need
modification in order to coincide with the highest New Testament
doctrine of the relation between righteousness and prosperity, these
confidences need none. For ever and absolutely they are true: in
trouble a stronghold, out of trouble a Saviour, is God to all who
cling to Him. Very beautifully the closing verse lingers on its theme,
and wreathes its thoughts together, with repetition that tells how
sweet they are to the singer: "Jehovah helps them, and _rescues_ them;
He _rescues_ them, ... and saves them." So the measure of the strophe
is complete, but the song flows over in an additional clause, which
points the path for all who seek such blessedness. Trust is peace.
They who take refuge in Jehovah are safe, and their inheritance shall
be for ever. That is the psalmist's inmost secret of a blessed life.




                             PSALM XXXVIII.

   1  Jehovah, not in Thine indignation do Thou rebuke me,
      Nor in Thy hot anger chastise me.
   2  For Thine arrows are come down into me,
      And down upon me comes Thy hand.

   3  There is no soundness in my flesh because of Thy wrath
      There is no health in my bones because of my sin.
   4  For my iniquities have gone over my head;
      As a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.

   5  My bruises smell foully, they run with matter,
      Because of my folly.
   6  I am twisted [with pain]; I am bowed down utterly;
      All the day I drag about in squalid attire.

   7  For my loins are full of burning,
      And there is no soundness in my flesh.
   8  I am exhausted and crushed utterly;
      I roar for the sighing of my heart.

   9  Lord, present to Thee is all my desire,
      And my sighing is not hid from Thee.
  10  My heart flutters, my strength has left me,
      And the light of my eyes--even it is no more with me.

  11  My lovers and friends stand aloof from my stroke,
      And my near [kin] stand far off.
  12  And they who seek after my life set snares [for me],
      And they who desire my hurt speak destruction,
      And meditate deceits all the day.

  13  And I, like a deaf man, do not hear,
      And am like one dumb, who opens not his mouth.
  14  Yea, I am become like a man who hears not,
      And in whose mouth are no counter-pleas.

  15  For for Thee, Jehovah, do I wait;
      Thou, Thou wilt answer, O Lord, my God.
  16  For I said, Lest they should rejoice over me,
      [And] when my foot slips, should magnify themselves over me

  17  For I am ready to fall,
      And my sorrow is continually present to me.
  18  For I must declare my guilt,
      Be distressed for my sin.

  19  And my enemies are lively, they are strong,
      (And my enemies without cause are strong?)
      And they who wrongfully hate me are many;
  20  And, requiting evil for good,
      They are my adversaries because I follow good.

  21  Forsake me not, Jehovah;
      My God, be not far from me.
  22  Haste to my help,
      O God, my salvation.


This is a long-drawn wail, passionate at first, but gradually calming
itself into submission and trust, though never passing from the minor
key. The name of God is invoked thrice (vv. 1, 9, 15), and each time
that the psalmist looks up his burden is somewhat easier to carry, and
some "low beginnings of content" steal into his heart and mingle with
his lament. Sorrow finds relief in repeating its plaint. It is the
mistake of cold-blooded readers to look for consecution of thought in
the cries of a wounded soul; but it is also a mistake to be blind to
the gradual sinking of the waves in this psalm, which begins with
deprecating God's wrath, and ends with quietly nestling close to Him
as "my salvation."

The characteristic of the first burst of feeling is its unbroken
gloom. It sounds the depths of darkness, with which easy-going,
superficial lives are unfamiliar, but whoever has been down into them
will not think the picture overcharged with black. The occasion of the
psalmist's deep dejection cannot be gathered from his words. He, like
all poets who teach in song what they learn in suffering, translates
his personal sorrows into language fitting for others' pains. The
feelings are more important to him and to us than the facts, and we
must be content to leave unsettled the question of his circumstances,
on which, after all, little depends. Only, it is hard for the present
writer, at least, to believe that such a psalm, quivering, as it
seems, with agony, is not the genuine cry of a brother's tortured
soul, but an utterance invented for a personified nation. The close
verbal resemblance of the introductory deprecation of chastisement in
anger to Psalm vi. 1 has been supposed to point to a common
authorship, and Delitzsch takes both psalms, along with Psalms xxxii.,
and li. as a series belonging to the time of David's penitence after
his great fall from purity. But the resemblance in question would
rather favour the supposition of difference of authorship, since
quotation is more probable than self-repetition. Jer. x. 23 is by some
held to be the original, and either Jeremiah himself or some later
singer to have been the author of the psalm. The question of which of
two similar passages is source and which is copy is always ticklish.
Jeremiah's bent was assimilative, and his prophecies are full of
echoes. The priority, therefore, probably lies with one or other of
the psalmists, if there are two.

The first part of the psalm is entirely occupied with the subjective
aspect of the psalmist's affliction. Three elements are conspicuous:
God's judgments, the singer's consciousness of sin, and his mental and
probably physical sufferings. Are the "arrows" and crushing weight of
God's "hand," which he deprecates in the first verses, the same as the
sickness and wounds, whether of mind or body, which he next describes so
pathetically? They are generally taken to be so, but the language of
this section and the contents of the remainder of the psalm rather point
to a distinction between them. It would seem that there are three
stages, not two, as that interpretation would make them. Unspecified
calamities, recognised by the sufferer as God's chastisements, have
roused his conscience, and its gnawing has superinduced mental and
bodily pain. The terribly realistic description of the latter may,
indeed, be figurative, but is more probably literal. The reiterated
synonyms for God's displeasure in vv. 1, 3, show how all the aspects of
that solemn thought are familiar. The first word regards it as an
outburst, or explosion, like a charge of dynamite; the second as
"glowing, igniting"; the third as effervescent, bubbling like lava in a
crater. The metaphors for the effects of this anger in ver. 2 deepen the
impression of its terribleness. It is a fearful fate to be the target
for God's "arrows," but it is worse to be crushed under the weight of
His "hand." The two forms of representation refer to the same facts, but
make a climax. The verbs in ver. 2 are from one root, meaning to come
down, or to lie upon. In 2 _a_ the word is reflexive, and represents the
"arrows" as endowed with volition, hurling themselves down. They
penetrate with force proportionate to the distance which they fall, as a
meteoric stone buries itself in the ground. Such being the wounding,
crushing power of the Divine "anger," its effects on the psalmist are
spread out before God, in the remaining part of this first division,
with plaintive reiteration. The connection which a quickened conscience
discerns between sorrow and sin is strikingly set forth in ver. 3, in
which "thine indignation" and "my sin" are the double fountain-heads of
bitterness. The quivering frame first felt the power of God's anger, and
then the awakened conscience turned inwards and discerned the occasion
of the anger. The three elements which we have distinguished are clearly
separated here, and their connection laid bare.

The second of these is the sense of sin, which the psalmist feels as
taking all "peace" or well-being out of his "bones," as a flood
rolling its black waters over his head, as a weight beneath which he
cannot stand upright, and again as foolishness, since its only effect
has been, to bring to him not what he hoped to win by it, but this
miserable plight.

Then, he pours himself out, with the monotonous repetition so natural
to self-pity, in a graphic accumulation of pictures of disease, which
may be taken as symbolic of mental distress, but are better understood
literally. With the whole, Isa. i. 5, 6, should be compared, nor
should the partial resemblances of Isa. liii. be overlooked. No
fastidiousness keeps the psalmist from describing offensive details.
His body is scourged and livid with parti-, swollen weals from
the lash, and these discharge foul-smelling matter. With this compare
Isa. liii. 5, "His stripes" (same word). Whatever may be thought of
the other physical features of suffering, this must obviously be
figurative. Contorted in pain, bent down by weakness, dragging himself
wearily with the slow gait of an invalid, squalid in attire, burning
with inward fever, diseased in every tortured atom of flesh, he is
utterly worn out and broken (same word as "bruised," Isa. liii. 5).
Inward misery, the cry of the heart, must have outward expression,
and, with Eastern vehemence in utterance of emotions which Western
reticence prefers to let gnaw in silence at the roots of life, he
"roars" aloud because his heart groans.

This vivid picture of the effects of the sense of personal sin will
seem to superficial modern Christianity, exaggerated and alien from
experience; but the deeper a man's godliness, the more will he listen
with sympathy, with understanding and with appropriation of such
piercing laments as his own. Just as few of us are dowered with
sensibilities so keen as to feel what poets feel, in love or hope, or
delight in nature, or with power to express the feelings, and yet can
recognise in their winged words the heightened expression of our own
less full emotions, so the truly devout soul will find, in the most
passionate of these wailing notes, the completer expression of his own
experience. We must go down into the depths and cry to God out of
them, if we are to reach sunny heights of communion. Intense
consciousness of sin is the obverse of ardent aspiration after
righteousness, and that is but a poor type of religion which has not
both. It is one of the glories of the Psalter that both are given
utterance to in it in words which are as vital to-day as when they
first came warm from the lips of these long dead men. Everything in
the world has changed, but these songs of penitence and plaintive
deprecation, like their twin bursts of rapturous communion, were "not
born for death." Contrast the utter deadness of the religious hymns of
all other nations with the fresh vitality of the Psalms. As long as
hearts are penetrated with the consciousness of evil done and loved,
these strains will fit themselves to men's lips.

Because the psalmist's recounting of his pains was prayer and not
soliloquy or mere cry of anguish, it calms him. We make the wound deeper
by turning round the arrow in it, when we dwell upon suffering without
thinking of God; but when, like the psalmist, we tell all to Him,
healing begins. Thus, the second part (vv. 9-14) is perceptibly calmer,
and though still agitated, its thought of God is more trustful, and
silent submission at the close takes the place of the "roaring," the
shrill cry of agony which ended the first part. A further variation of
tone is that, instead of the entirely subjective description of the
psalmist's sufferings in vv. 1-8, the desertion by friends and the
hostility of foes, are now the main elements of trial. There is
comparative peace for a tortured heart in the thought that all its
desire and sighing are known to God. That knowledge is prior to the
heart's prayer, but does not make it needless, for by the prayer the
conviction of the Divine knowledge has entered the troubled soul, and
brought some prelude of deliverance and hope of answer. The devout soul
does not argue "Thou knowest, and I need not speak," but "Thou knowest,
therefore I tell Thee"; and it is soothed in and after telling. He who
begins prayer, by submitting to chastisement and only deprecating the
form of it inflicted by "wrath," will pass to the more gracious thought
of God as lovingly cognisant of both his desire and his sighing, his
wishes and his pains. The burst of the storm is past, when that light
begins to break through clouds, though waves still run high.

How high they still run is plain from the immediate recurrence of the
strain of recounting the singer's sorrows. This recrudescence of woe
after the clear calm of a moment is only too well known to us all in our
sorrows. The psalmist returns to speak of his sickness in ver. 10, which
is really a picture of syncope or fainting. The heart's action is
described by a rare word, which in its root means to go round and round,
and is here in an intensive form expressive of violent motion, or
possibly is to be regarded as a diminutive rather than an intensive,
expressive of the thinner though quicker pulse. Then come collapse of
strength and failure of sight. But this echo of the preceding part
immediately gives place to the new element in the psalmist's sorrow,
arising from the behaviour of friends and foes. The frequent complaint
of desertion by friends has to be repeated by most sufferers in this
selfish world. They keep far away from his "stroke," says the psalm,
using the same word as is employed for leprosy, and as is used in the
verb in Isa. liii. 4 ("stricken"). There is a tone of wonder and
disappointment in the untranslatable play of language in ver. 11 _b_.
"My near relations stand far off." Kin are not always kind. Friends have
deserted because foes have beset him. Probably we have here the facts
which in the previous part are conceived of as the "arrows" of God.

Open and secret enemies laying snares for him, as for some hunted wild
creature, eagerly seeking his life, speaking "destructions" as if they
would fain kill him with their words, and perpetually whispering lies
about him, were recognised by him as instruments of God's judgment,
and evoked his consciousness of sin, which again led to actual
disease. But the bitter schooling led to something else more
blessed--namely, to silent resignation. Like David, when he let Shimei
shriek his curses at him from the hillside and answered not, the
psalmist is deaf and dumb to malicious tongues. He will speak to God,
but to man he is silent, in utter submission of will.

Isaiah liii. 7 gives the same trait in the perfect Sufferer, a faint
foreshadowing of whom is seen in the psalmist; and 1 Peter ii. 23 bids
all who would follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth, like Him open not
their mouths when reviled, but commit themselves to the righteous Judge.

Once more the psalmist lifts his eyes to God, and the third invocation
of the Name is attended by an increase of confidence. In the first
part, "Jehovah" was addressed; in the second the designation "Lord"
was used; in the third, both are united and the appropriating name "my
God" is added. In the closing invocation (v. 22-3) all three reappear,
and each is the plea of a petition. The characteristics of these
closing verses are three: humble trust, the marshalling of its
reasons, and the combination of acknowledgment of sin and professions
of innocence. The growth of trust is very marked, if the first part,
with its synonyms for God's wrath and its deprecation of unmeasured
chastisement and its details of pain, be compared with the quiet hope
and assurance that God will answer, and with that great name "my
Salvation." The singer does not indeed touch the heights of triumphant
faith; but he who can grasp God as his, and can be silent because he
is sure that God will speak by delivering deeds for him and can call
Him his Salvation, has climbed far enough to have the sunshine all
round him, and to be clear of the mists among which his song began.
The best reason for letting the enemy speak on unanswered is the
confidence that a mightier voice will speak. "But thou wilt answer,
Lord, for me" may well make us deaf and dumb to temptations and
threats, calumnies and flatteries.

How does this confidence spring in so troubled a heart? The fourfold
"For" beginning each verse from 15 to 18 weaves them all into a chain.
The first gives the reason for the submissive silence as being quiet
confidence; and the succeeding three may be taken as either dependent
on each other, or, as is perhaps better, as co-ordinate and
all-assigning reasons for that confidence. Either construction yields
worthy and natural meanings. If the former be adopted, trust in God's
undertaking of the silent sufferer's cause is based upon the prayer
which broke his silence. Dumb to men, he had breathed to God his
petition for help, and had buttressed it with this plea "Lest they
rejoice over me," and he had feared that they would, because he knew
that he was ready to fall and had ever before him his pain, and that
because he felt himself forced to lament and confess his sin. But it
seems to yield a richer meaning, if the "For's" be regarded as
co-ordinate. They then become a striking and instructive example of
faith's logic, the ingenuity of pleading which finds encouragements in
discouragements. The suppliant is sure of answer because he has told
God his fear, and yet again because he is so near falling and
therefore needs help so much, and yet again because he has made a
clean breast of his sin. Trust in God's help, distrust of self,
consciousness of weakness, and penitence make anything possible rather
than that the prayer which embodies them should be flung up to an
unanswering God. They are prevalent pleas with Him in regard to which
He will not be "as a man that heareth not, and in whose mouth there is
no reply." They are grounds of assurance to him who prays.

The juxtaposition of consciousness of sin in ver. 18 with the
declaration that love of good was the cause of being persecuted, brings
out the twofold attitude, in regard to God and men, which a devout soul
may permissibly and sometimes must necessarily assume. There may be the
truest sense of sinfulness, along with a clear-hearted affirmation of
innocence in regard to men, and a conviction that it is good and
goodwill to them, not evil in the sufferer, which makes him the butt of
hatred. Not less instructive is the double view of the same facts
presented in the beginning and end of this psalm. They were to the
psalmist first regarded as God's chastisement in wrath, His "arrows" and
heavy "hand," because of sin. Now they are men's enmity, because of his
love of good. Is there not an entire contradiction between these two
views of suffering, its cause and source? Certainly not, but rather the
two views differ only in the angle of vision, and may be combined, like
stereoscopic pictures, into one rounded, harmonious whole. To be able so
to combine them is one of the rewards of such pleading trust as breathes
its plaintive music through this psalm, and wakes responsive notes in
devout hearts still.




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Transcriber's Notes:


Obvious punctuation and spelling errors have been fixed throughout.

Inconsistent hyphenation left as in the original text.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Expositor's Bible: The Psalms,
Vol. 1, by A. Maclaren

*** 