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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

                        ALEXANDER MACLAREN, D.D.



                              _VOLUME II._
                         PSALMS XXXIX.-LXXXIX.



                          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
                        ALEXANDER MACLAREN, D.D.




                              _VOLUME II._
                         PSALMS XXXIX.-LXXXIX.





                          HODDER AND STOUGHTON
                        LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO




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




                                CONTENTS

                         PAGE

  PSALM XXXIX.              1

    "   XL.                14

    "   XLI.               30

    "   XLII., XLIII.      41

    "   XLIV.              54

    "   XLV.               63

    "   XLVI.              79

    "   XLVII.             86

    "   XLVIII.            92

    "   XLIX.             100

    "   L.                115

    "   LI.               125

    "   LII.              142

    "   LIII.             148

    "   LIV.              151

    "   LV.               158

    "   LVI.              171

    "   LVII.             180

    "   LVIII.            189

    "   LIX.              198

    "   LX.               209

    "   LXI.              216

    "   LXII.             223

    "   LXIII.            232

    "   LXIV.             241

    "   LXV.              246

    "   LXVI.             255

    "   LXVII.            264

    "   LXVIII.           269

    "   LXIX.             293

    "   LXX.              306

    "   LXXI.             308

    "   LXXII.            315

    "   LXXIII.           333

    "   LXXIV.            348

    "   LXXV.             359

    "   LXXVI.            366

    "   LXXVII.           371

    "   LXXVIII.          382

    "   LXXIX.            396

    "   LXXX.             404

    "   LXXXI.            414

    "   LXXXII.           425

    "   LXXXIII.          431

    "   LXXXIV.           440

    "   LXXXV.            451

    "   LXXXVI.           461

    "   LXXXVII.          470

    "   LXXXVIII.         477

    "   LXXXIX.           487




                              PSALM XXXIX.

   1  I said, I will guard my ways, that I sin not with my tongue;
      I will put a muzzle on my mouth
      So long as the wicked is before me.
   2  I made myself dumb in still submission,
      I kept silence joylessly,
      And my sorrow was stirred.
   3  My heart was hot within me;
      While I mused the fire blazed up;
      I spake with my tongue.

   4  Make me, Jehovah, to know my end,
      And the measure of my days, what it is;
      Let me know how fleeting I am.
   5  Behold, as handbreadths hast Thou made my days,
      And my lifetime is as nothing before Thee;
      Surely nothing but a breath is every man, stand he ever so firm.
                Selah.
   6  Surely every man goes about like a shadow;
      Surely for a breath do they make [such a stir];
      He heaps up [goods] and knows not who will gather them.

   7  And now what wait I for, Lord?
      My hope--to Thee it goes.
   8  From all my transgressions deliver me;
      Make me not a reproach of the fool.
   9  I make myself dumb, I open not my mouth,
      For Thou hast done [it].

  10  Remove Thy stroke from me;
      I am wasted by the assault of Thy hand.
  11  When with rebukes for iniquity Thou correctest a man,
      Like a moth Thou frayest away his gracefulness;
      Surely every man is [but] a breath. Selah.

  12  Hear my prayer, Jehovah, and give ear to my cry;
      At my weeping be not silent:
      For I am a guest with Thee,
      And a sojourner like all my fathers.
  13  Look away from me, that I may brighten up,
      Before I go hence and be no more.


Protracted suffering, recognised as chastisement for sin, had wasted
the psalmist's strength. It had been borne for a while in silence,
but the rush of emotion had burst the floodgates. The psalm does not
repeat the words which forced themselves from the hot heart, but
preserves for us the calmer flow which followed. It falls into four
parts, the first three of which contain three verses each, and the
fourth is expanded into four, divided into two couples.

In the first part (vv. 1-3) the frustrated resolve of silence is
recorded. Its motive was fear of sinning in speech "while the wicked
is before me." That phrase is often explained as meaning that the
sight of the prosperity of the godless in contrast with his own
sorrows tempted the singer to break out into arraigning God's
providence, and that he schooled himself to look at their insolent
ease unmurmuringly. But the psalm has no other references to other
men's flourishing condition; and it is more in accordance with its
tone to suppose that his own pains, and not their pleasures, prompted
to the withheld words. The presence of "the wicked" imposed on his
devout heart silence as a duty. We do not complain of a friend's
conduct in the hearing of his enemies. God's servants have to watch
their speech about Him when godless ears are listening, lest hasty
words should give occasion for malicious glee or blasphemy. So, for
God's honour, the psalmist put restraint on himself. The word rendered
"bridle" in ver. 2 by the A.V. and R.V. is better taken as muzzle,
for a muzzle closes the lips, and a bridle does not. The resolution
thus energetically expressed was vigorously carried out: "I made
myself dumb in still submission; I kept silence." And what came of
it? "My sorrow was stirred." Grief suppressed is increased, as all
the world knows. The closing words of ver. 2 _b_ (lit. _apart from
good_) are obscure, and very variously understood, some regarding
them as an elliptical form of "from good and bad," and expressing
completeness of silence; others taking "the good" to mean "the law, or
the praise of God, or good-fortune, or such words as would serve to
protect the singer from slanders." "But the preposition here employed,
when it follows a verb meaning silence, does not introduce that
concerning which silence is kept, but a negative result of silence"
(Hupfeld). The meaning, then, is best given by some such paraphrase
as "joylessly" or "and I had no comfort" (R.V.). The hidden sorrow
gnawed beneath the cloak like a fire in a hollow tree; it burned
fiercely unseen, and ate its way at last into sight. Locked lips
make hearts hotter. Repression of utterance only feeds the fire, and
sooner or later the "muzzle" is torn off, and pent-up feeling breaks
into speech, often the wilder for the violence done to nature by the
attempt to deny it its way. The psalmist's motive was right, and in a
measure his silence was so; but his resolve did not at first go deep
enough. It is the heart, not the mouth, that has to be silenced. To
build a dam across a torrent without diminishing the sources that
supply its waters only increases weight and pressure, and ensures a
muddy flood when it bursts.

Does the psalm proceed to recount what its author said when he broke
silence? It may appear so at first sight. On the other hand, the calm
prayer which follows, beginning with ver. 4, is not of the character
of the wild and whirling words which were suppressed for fear of
sinning, nor does the fierce fire of which the psalm has been speaking
flame in it. It seems, therefore, more probable that those first
utterances, in which the overcharged heart relieved itself, and which
were tinged with complaint and impatience, are not preserved, and did
not deserve to be, and that the pathetic, meditative petitions of
the rest of the psalm succeeded them, as after the first rush of the
restrained torrent comes a stiller flow. Such a prayer might well have
been offered "while the wicked is before me," and might have been laid
to heart by them. Its thoughts are as a cool hand laid on the singer's
hot heart. They damp the fire burning in him. There is no surer remedy
for inordinate sensibility to outward sorrows than fixed convictions
of life's brevity and illusoriness; and these are the two thoughts
which the prayer casts into sweet, sad music.

It deals with commonplaces of thought, which poets and moralists
have been singing and preaching since the world began, in different
tones and with discordant applications, sometimes with fierce revolt
against the inevitable, sometimes with paralysing consciousness of
it, sometimes using these truths as arguments for base pleasures and
aims, sometimes toying with them as occasions for cheap sentiment and
artificial pathos, sometimes urging them as motives for strenuous
toil. But of all the voices which have ever sung or prophesied of
life's short span and shadowy activities, none is nobler, saner,
healthier, and calmer than this psalmist's. The stately words in
which he proclaimed the transiency of all earthly things are not
transient. They are "nothing but a breath," but they have outlasted
much that seemed solid, and their music will sound as long as man
is on his march through time. Our "days" have a "measure"; they
are a limited period, and the Measurer is God. But this fleeting
creature man has an obstinate fancy of his permanence, which is not
all bad indeed--since without it there would be little continuity of
purpose or concentration of effort--but may easily run to extremes
and hide the fact that there is an end. Therefore the prayer for
Divine illumination is needed, that we may not be ignorant of that
which we know well enough, if we would bethink ourselves. The solemn
convictions of ver. 5 are won by the petitions of ver. 4. He who asks
God to make him know his end has already gone far towards knowing
it. If he seeks to estimate the "measure" of his days, he will soon
come to the clear conviction that it is only the narrow space that
may be covered by one or two breadths of a hand. So do noisy years
shrink when heaven's chronology is applied to them. A lifetime looks
long, but set against God's eternal years, it shrivels to an all but
imperceptible point, having position, but not magnitude.

The thought of brevity naturally draws after it that of illusoriness.
Just because life is so frail does it assume the appearance of being
futile. Both ideas are blended in the metaphors of "a breath" and "a
shadow." There is a solemn earnestness in the threefold "surely,"
confirming each clause of the seer's insight into earth's hollowness.
How emphatically he puts it in the almost pleonastic language,
"Surely nothing but a breath is every man, stand he ever so firm."
The truth proclaimed is undeniably certain. It covers the whole
ground of earthly life, and it includes the most prosperous and
firmly established. "A breath" is the very emblem of transiency and
of unsubstantiality. Every solid body can be melted and made gaseous
vapour, if heat enough is applied. They who habitually bring human
life "before Thee" dissolve into vapour the solid-seeming illusions
which cheat others, and save their own lives from being but a breath
by clearly recognising that they are.

The Selah at the end of ver. 4 does not here seem to mark a logical
pause in thought nor to coincide with the strophe division, but
emphasises by some long-drawn, sad notes the teaching of the words.
The thought runs on unbroken, and ver. 6 is closely linked to ver.
5 by the repeated "surely" and "breath" as well as in subject. The
figure changes from breath to "shadow," literally "image," meaning not
a sculptured likeness, but an _eidolon_, or unsubstantial apparition.

          "The glories of our birth and state
           Are shadows, not substantial things";

and all the movements of men coming and going in the world are but
like a dance of shadows. As they are a breath, so are their aims.
All their hubbub and activity is but like the bustle of ants on
their hill--immense energy and toil, and nothing coming of it all.
If any doubt remained as to the correctness of this judgment of the
aimlessness of man's toil, one fact would confirm the psalmist's
sentence, viz., that the most successful man labours to amass, and has
to leave his piles for another whom he does not know, to gather into
his storehouses and to scatter by his prodigality. There may be an
allusion in the words to harvesting work. The sheaves are piled up,
but in whose barn are they to be housed? Surely, if the grower and
reaper is not the ultimate owner, his toil has been for a breath.

All this is no fantastic pessimism. Still less is it an account of
what life must be. If any man's is nothing but toiling for a breath,
and if he himself is nothing but a breath, it is his own fault. They
who are joined to God have "in their embers something that doth
live"; and if they labour for Him, they do _not_ labour for vanity,
nor do they leave their possessions when they die. The psalmist has
no reference to a future life, but the immediately following strophe
shows that, though he knew that his days were few, he knew, too,
that, if his hope were set on God he was freed from the curse of
illusoriness and grasped no shadow, but the Living Substance, who
would make his life blessedly real and pour into it substantial good.

The effect of such convictions of life's brevity and emptiness should
be to throw the heart back on God. In the third part of the psalm
(vv. 7-9) a higher strain sounds. The singer turns from his dreary
thoughts, which might so easily become bitter ones, to lay hold on
God. What should earth's vanity teach but God's sufficiency? It does
not need the light of a future life to be flashed upon this mean,
swiftly vanishing present in order to see it "apparelled in celestial
light." Without that transforming conception, it is still possible to
make it great and real by bringing it into conscious connection with
God; and if hope and effort are set on Him amid all the smallnesses
and perishablenesses of the outer world, hope will not chase a shadow,
nor effort toil for very vanity. The psalmist sought to calm his hot
heart by the contemplation of his end, but that is a poor remedy for
perturbation and grief unless it leads to actual contact with the one
enduring Substance. It did so with him, and therefore "grief grew
calm," just because "hope was" not "dead." To preach the vanity of all
earthly things to heavy hearts is but pouring vinegar on nitre, unless
it is accompanied with the great antidote to all sad and depreciating
views of life: the thought that in it men may reach their hands beyond
the time-film that enmeshes them and grasp the unchanging God. This
psalm has no reference to life beyond the grave; but it finds in
present communion by waiting and hope, emancipation from the curse
of fleeting triviality which haunts every life separated from Him,
like that which the Christian hope of immortality gives. God is the
significant figure which gives value to the row of ciphers of which
every life is without Him made up. Blessed are they who are driven by
earth's vanity and drawn by God's fulness of love and power to fling
themselves into His arms and nestle there! The strong recoil of the
devout soul from a world which it has profoundly felt to be shadowy,
and its great venture of faith, which is not a venture after all,
were never more nobly or simply expressed than in that quiet "And
now"--things being so--"what wait I for? My hope"--in contrast with
the false directions which other men's takes--"to Thee it turns."

The burden is still on the psalmist's shoulders. His sufferings are not
ended, though his trust has taken the poison out of them. Therefore
his renewed grasp of God leads at once to prayer for deliverance from
his "transgressions," in which cry may be included both sins and their
chastisement. "The fool" is the name of a class, not of an individual,
and, as always in Scripture, denotes moral and religious obliquity, not
intellectual feebleness. The expression is substantially equivalent
to "the wicked" of ver. 1, and a similar motive to that which there
induced the psalmist to be silent is here urged as a plea with God for
the sufferer's deliverance. Taunts launched at a good man suffering will
glance off him and appear to reach his God.

Ver. 9 pleads as a reason for God's deliverance the psalmist's silence
under what he recognised as God's chastisement. The question arises
whether this is the same silence as is referred to in vv. 1, 2, and
many authorities take that view. But that silence was broken by a rush
of words from a hot heart, and, if the account of the connection in the
psalm given above is correct, by a subsequent more placid meditation and
prayer. It would be irrelevant to recur to it here, especially as a plea
with God. But there are two kinds of silence under His chastisements:
one which may have for its motive regard to His honour, but is none
the less tinged with rebellious thoughts, and brings no good to the
sufferer, and another which is silence of heart and will, not of lips
only, and soothes sorrow which the other only aggravated, and puts out
the fire which the other fanned. Submission to God's hand discerned
behind all visible causes is the blessed silence. "To lie still, let Him
strike home, and bless the rod," is best. And when that is attained, the
uses of chastisement are accomplished; and we may venture to ask God to
burn the rod. The desire to be freed from its blow is not inconsistent
with such submission. This prayer does not break the silence, though
it may seem to do so, for this is the privilege of hearts that love
God: that they can breathe desires to Him without His holding them
unsubmissive to His supreme will.

The last part (vv. 10-13) is somewhat abnormally long, and falls into
two parts separated by "Selah," which musical note does not here
coincide with the greater divisions. The two pairs of verses are
both petitions for removal of sickness, either real or figurative.
Their pleading persistence presents substantially the same prayer
and supports it by the same considerations of man's transiency.
The Pattern of perfect resignation thrice "prayed, saying the
same words"; and His suffering followers may do the same, and yet
neither sin by impatience, nor weary the Judge by their continual
coming. The psalmist sees in his pains God's "stroke," and pleads
the effects already produced on him as a reason for cessation. He is
already "wasted by the assault of God's hand." One more buffet, and
he feels that he must die. It is bold for a sufferer to say to God,
"Hold! enough!" but all depends on the tone in which it is said. It
may be presumption, or it may be a child's free speech, not in the
least trenching on a Father's authority. The sufferer underrates his
capacity of endurance, and often thinks, "I can bear no straw more";
but yet he has to bear it. Yet the psalmist's cry rests upon a deep
truth: that God cannot mean to crush; therefore he goes on to a deeper
insight into the meaning of that "stroke." It is not the attack of an
enemy, but the "correction" of a friend.

If men regarded sorrows and sicknesses as rebukes for iniquity, they
would better understand why sinful life, separated from God, is so
fleeting. The characteristic ground tone of the Old Testament echoes
here, according to which "the wages of sin is death." The commonplace
of man's frailty receives a still more tragic colouring when thus
regarded as a consequence of his sin. The psalmist has learned it in
relation to his own sufferings, and, because he sees it so clearly,
he pleads that these may cease. He looks on his own wasted form; and
God's hand seems to him to have taken away all that made it or life
desirable and fair, as a moth would gnaw a garment. What a daring
figure to compare the mightiest with the feeblest, the Eternal with
the very type of evanescence!

The second subdivision of this part (vv. 12, 13) reiterates the
former with some difference of tone. There is a beautiful climax of
earnestness in the psalmist's appeal to God. His prayer swells into
crying, and that again melts into tears, which go straight to the
great Father's heart. Weeping eyes are never turned to heaven in vain;
the gates of mercy open wide when the hot drops touch them. But his
fervour of desire is not this suppliant's chief argument with God. His
meditation has won for him deeper insight into that transiency which
at first he had only laid like ice on his heart, to cool its feverish
heat. He sees now more clearly, by reason of his effort to turn away
his hope from earth and fix it on God, that his brief life has an
aspect in which its brevity is not only calming, but exalting, and
gives him a claim on God, whose guest he is while here, and with whom
he has guest-rights, whether his stay is longer or shorter. "The land
is mine, for ye are strangers and sojourners with me" (Lev. xxv. 23).
That which was true in a special way of Israel's tenure of the soil is
true for the individual, and true for ever. All men are God's guests;
and if we betake ourselves behind the curtains of His tent, we have
rights of shelter and sustenance. All the bitterness of the thought
of the brevity of life is sucked out of it by such a confidence. If
a man dwells with God, his Host will care for the needs, and not be
indifferent to the tears, of His guest. The long generations which
have come and gone like shadows are not a melancholy procession out
of nothing through vanity into nothing again, nor "disquieted in
vain," if they are conceived as each in turn lodging for a little
while in that same ancestral home which the present generation
inhabits. It has seen many sons succeeding their fathers as its
tenants, but its stately strength grows not old, and its gates are
open to-day as they have been in all generations.

The closing prayer in ver. 13 has a strange sound. "Look away from
me" is surely a singular petition, and the effect of God's averting
His face is not less singular. The psalmist thinks that it will be
his regaining cheerfulness and brightness, for he uses a word which
means to clear up or to brighten, as the sky becomes blue again after
storm. The light of God's face makes men's faces bright. "They cried
unto God, and were lightened," not because He looked away from them,
but because He regarded them. But the intended paradox gives the more
emphatic expression to the thought that the psalmist's pains came from
God's angry look, and it is that which he asks may be turned from
him. That mere negative withdrawal, however, would have no cheering
power, and is not conceivable as unaccompanied by the turning to the
suppliant of God's loving regard. The devout psalmist had no notion of
a neutral God, nor could he ever be contented with simple cessation of
the tokens of Divine displeasure. The ever-outflowing Divine activity
must reach every man. It may come in one or other of the two forms of
favour or of displeasure, but come it will; and each man can determine
which side of that pillar of fire and cloud is turned to him. On one
side is the red glare of anger, on the other the white lustre of love.
If the one is turned from, the other is turned to us.

Not less remarkable is the prospect of going away into non-being which
the last words of the psalm present as a piteous reason for a little
gleam of brightness being vouchsafed in this span-long life. There is
no vision here of life beyond the grave; but, though there is not,
the singer "throws himself into the arms of God." He does not seek
to solve the problem of life by bringing the future in to redress
the balance of good and evil. To him the solution lies in present
communion with a present God, in whose house he is a guest now, and
whose face will make his life bright, however short it may be.




                               PSALM XL.

   1  Waiting, I waited for Jehovah,
      And He bent to me and heard my [loud] cry.
   2  And lifted me from the pit of destruction,
      From the mire of the bog,
      And set my feet on a rock--
      Established my steps,
   3  And put in my mouth a new song,
      Praise unto our God.
      Many shall see and fear,
      And trust in Jehovah.

   4  Blessed is the man who has made Jehovah his trust,
      And has not turned [away] to the proud and deserters to a lie.
   5  In multitudes hast Thou wrought, Jehovah, my God;
      Thy wonders and Thy purposes towards us--
      There is none to be set beside Thee--
      Should I declare them and speak them,
      They surpass numbering.

   6  Sacrifice and meal-offering Thou didst not delight in--
      Ears hast Thou pierced for me--
      Burnt-offering and sin-offering Thou didst not demand.
   7  Then I said, Behold, I am come--
      In the roll of the book it is prescribed to me--
   8  To do Thy pleasure, my God, I delight,
      And Thy law is within my inmost parts.

   9  I proclaimed glad tidings of Thy righteousness in the great
                congregation;
      Behold, my lips I did not restrain,
      Jehovah, Thou knowest.
  10  Thy righteousness did I not hide within my heart;
      Thy faithfulness and Thy salvation did I speak;
      I concealed not Thy loving-kindness and Thy truth from the great
                congregation.
  11  Thou, Jehovah, wilt not restrain Thy compassions from me;
      Thy loving-kindness and Thy troth will continually preserve me.

  12  For evils beyond numbering have compassed me;
      My iniquities have overtaken me, and I am not able to see:
      They surpass the hairs of my head,
      And my heart has forsaken me.
  13  Be pleased, Jehovah, to deliver me;
      Jehovah, hasten to my help.
  14  Shamed and put to the blush together be the seekers after my soul
                to carry it away!
      Turned back and dishonoured be they who delight in my calamity!
  15  Paralysed by reason of their shame
      Be they who say to me, Oho! Oho!
  16  Joyful and glad in Thee be all who seek Thee!
      Jehovah be magnified, may they ever say who love Thy salvation!
  17  But as for me, I am afflicted and needy;
      The Lord purposes [good] for me:
      My Help and my Deliverer art Thou;
      My God, delay not.


The closing verses of this psalm reappear with slight changes as an
independent whole in Psalm lxx. The question arises whether that is a
fragment or this a conglomerate. Modern opinion inclines to the latter
alternative, and points in support to the obvious change of tone in the
second part. But that change does not coincide with the supposed line
of junction, since Psalm lxx. begins with our ver. 13, and the change
begins with ver. 12. Cheyne and others are therefore obliged to suppose
that ver. 12 is the work of a third poet or compiler, who effected a
junction thereby. The cumbrousness of the hypothesis of fusion is plain,
and its necessity is not apparent, for it is resorted to in order to
explain how a psalm which keeps so lofty a level of confidence at first
should drop to such keen consciousness of innumerable evils and such
faint-heartedness. But surely such resurrection of apparently dead
fears is not uncommon in devout, sensitive souls. They live beneath
April skies, not unbroken blue. However many the wonderful works which
God has done and however full of thankfulness the singer's heart, his
deliverance is not complete. The contrast in the two parts of the
psalm is true to facts and to the varying aspects of feeling and of
faith. Though the latter half gives greater prominence to encompassing
evils, they appear but for a moment; and the prayer for deliverance
which they force from the psalmist is as triumphant in faith as were
the thanksgivings of the former part. In both the ground tone is that
of victorious grasp of God's help, which in the one is regarded in
its mighty past acts, and in the other is implored and trusted in for
present and future needs. The change of tone is not such as to demand
the hypothesis of fusion. The unity is further supported by verbal links
between the parts: _e.g._, the innumerable evils of ver. 12 pathetically
correspond to the innumerable mercies of ver. 5, and the same word for
"surpass" occurs in both verses; "be pleased" in ver. 13 echoes "Thy
pleasure" (will, A.V.) in ver. 8; "cares" or _thinks_ (A.V.) in ver. 17
is the verb from which the noun rendered _purposes_ (thoughts, A.V.) in
ver. 5 is derived.

The attribution of the psalm to David rests solely on the
superscription. The contents have no discernible points of connection
with known circumstances in his or any other life. Jeremiah has been
thought of as the author, on the strength of giving a prosaic literal
meaning to the obviously poetical phrase "the pit of destruction"
(ver. 2). If it is to be taken literally, what is to be made of the
"rock" in the next clause? Baethgen and others see the return from
Babylon in the glowing metaphors of ver. 2, and, in accordance with
their conceptions of the evolution of spiritual religion, take the
subordination of sacrifice to obedience as a clear token of late date.
We may, however, recall 1 Sam. xv. 22, and venture to doubt whether
the alleged process of spiritualising has been so clearly established,
and its stages dated, as to afford a criterion of the age of a psalm.

In the first part, the current of thought starts from thankfulness
for individual deliverances (vv. 1-3); widens into contemplation of
the blessedness of trust and the riches of Divine mercies (vv. 4,
5); moved by these and taught what is acceptable to God, it rises
to self-consecration as a living sacrifice (vv. 6-8); and, finally,
pleads for experience of God's grace in all its forms on the ground of
past faithful stewardship in celebrating these (vv. 9-11). The second
part is one long-drawn cry for help, which admits of no such analysis,
though its notes are various.

The first outpouring of the song is one long sentence, of which the
clauses follow one another like sunlit ripples, and tell the whole
process of the psalmist's deliverance. It began with patient waiting;
it ended with a new song. The voice first raised in a cry, shrill
and yet submissive enough to be heard above, is at last tuned into
new forms of uttering the old praise. The two clauses of ver. 1 ("I"
and "He") set over against each other, as separated by the distance
between heaven and earth, the psalmist and his God. He does not begin
with his troubles, but with his faith. "Waiting, he waited" for
Jehovah; and wherever there is that attitude of tense and continuous
but submissive expectance, God's attitude will be that of bending to
meet it. The meek, upturned eye has power to draw His towards itself.
That is an axiom of the devout life confirmed by all experience, even
if the tokens of deliverance delay their coming. Such expectance,
however patient, is not inconsistent with loud crying, but rather
finds voice in it. Silent patience and impatient prayer, in too great
a hurry to let God take His own time, are equally imperfect. But the
cry, "Haste to my help" (ver. 13), and the final petition, "My God,
delay not," are consistent with true waiting.

The suppliant and God have come closer together in ver. 2, which
should not be regarded as beginning a new sentence. As in Psalm
xviii., prayer brings God down to help. His hand reaches to the man
prisoned in a pit or struggling in a swamp; he is dragged out, set on
a rock, and feels firm ground beneath his feet. Obviously the whole
representation is purely figurative, and it is hopelessly flat and
prosaic to refer it to Jeremiah's experience. The "many waters" of
Psalm xviii. are a parallel metaphor. The dangers that threatened the
psalmist are described as "a pit of destruction," as if they were a
dungeon into which whosoever was thrown would come out no more, or in
which, like a wild beast, he has been trapped. They are also likened
to a bog or quagmire, in which struggles only sink a man deeper.
But the edge of the bog touches rock, and there is firm footing and
unhindered walking there, if only some great lifting power can drag
the sinking man out. God's hand can, and does, because the lips,
almost choked with mire, could yet cry. The psalmist's extremity
of danger was probably much more desperate than is usual in such
conditions as ours, so that his cries seem too piercing for us to make
our own; but the terrors and conflicts of humanity are nearly constant
quantities, though the occasions calling them forth are widely
different. If we look deeper into life than its surface, we shall
learn that it is not violent "spiritualising" to make these utterances
the expression of redeeming grace, since in truth there is but one or
other of these two possibilities open for us. Either we flounder in a
bottomless bog, or we have our feet on the Rock.

God's deliverance gives occasion for fresh praise. The psalmist has to
add his voice to the great chorus, and this sense of being but one of a
multitude, who have been blessed alike and therefore should bless alike,
occasions the significant interchange in ver. 3 of "my" and "our," which
needs no theory of the speaker being the nation to explain it. It is
ever a joy to the heart swelling with the sense of God's mercies to
be aware of the many who share the mercies and gratitude. The cry for
deliverance is a solo; the song of praise is choral. The psalmist did
not need to be bidden to praise; a new song welled from his lips as by
inspiration. Silence was more impossible to his glad heart than even to
his sorrow. To shriek for help from the bottom of the pit and to be dumb
when lifted to the surface is a churl's part.

Though the song was new in this singer's mouth, as befitted a
recipient of deliverances fresh from heaven, the theme was old;
but each new voice individualises the commonplaces of religious
experience, and repeats them as fresh. And the result of one man's
convinced and jubilant voice, giving novelty to old truths because he
has verified them in new experiences, will be that "many shall see,"
as though they behold the deliverance of which they hear, "and shall
fear" Jehovah and trust themselves to Him. It was not the psalmist's
deliverance, but his song, that was to be the agent in this extension
of the fear of Jehovah. All great poets have felt that their words
would win audience and live. Thus, even apart from consciousness of
inspiration, this lofty anticipation of the effect of his words is
intelligible, without supposing that their meaning is that the signal
deliverance of the nation from captivity would spread among heathens
and draw them to Israel's faith.

The transition from purely personal experience to more general thoughts
is completed in vv. 4, 5. Just as the psalmist began with telling of
his own patient expectance and thence passed on to speak of God's
help, so in these two verses he sets forth the same sequence in terms
studiously cast into the most comprehensive form. Happy indeed are
they who can translate their own experience into these two truths for
all men: that trust is blessedness and that God's mercies are one long
sequence, made up of numberless constituent parts. To have these for
one's inmost convictions and to ring them out so clearly and melodiously
that many shall be drawn to listen, and then to verify them by their own
"seeing," is one reward of patient waiting for Jehovah. That trust must
be maintained by resolute resistance to temptations to its opposite.
Hence the negative aspect of trust is made prominent in ver. 4 _b_, in
which the verb should be rendered "turns not" instead of "respecteth
not," as in the A.V. and R.V. The same motion, looked at from opposite
sides, may be described in turning to and turning from. Forsaking other
confidences is part of the process of making God one's trust. But it is
significant that the antithesis is not completely carried out, for those
to whom the trustful heart does not turn are not here, as might have
been expected, rival objects of trust, but those who put their own trust
in false refuges. "The proud" are the class of arrogantly self-reliant
people who feel no need of anything but their own strength to lean on.
"Deserters to a lie" are those who fall away from Jehovah to put their
trust in any creature, since all refuges but Himself will fail. Idols
may be included in this thought of _a lie_, but it is unduly limited if
confined to them. Much rather it takes in all false grounds of security.
The antithesis fails in accuracy, for the sake of putting emphasis on
the prevalence of such mistaken trust, which makes it so much the harder
to keep aloof from the multitudes and stand alone in reliance on Jehovah.

Ver. 5 corresponds with ver. 4, in that it sets forth in similar
generality the great deeds with which God is wont to answer man's
trust. But the personality of the poet breaks very beautifully through
the impersonal utterances at two points: once when he names Jehovah as
"my God," thus claiming his separate share in the general mercies and
his special bond of connection with the Lover of all; and once when he
speaks of his own praises, thus recognising the obligation of individual
gratitude for general blessings. Each particle of finely comminuted
moisture in the rainbow has to flash back the broad sunbeam at its
own angle. God's "wonders and designs" are "realised Divine thoughts
and Divine thoughts which are gradually being realised" (Delitzsch).
These are wrought and being wrought in multitudes innumerable; and, as
the psalmist sees the bright, unbroken beams pouring forth from their
inexhaustible source, he breaks into an exclamation of adoring wonder
at the incomparable greatness of the ever-giving God. "There is none
to set beside Thee" is far loftier and more accordant with the tone
of the verse than the comparatively flat and incongruous remark that
God's mercies cannot be told to Him (A.V. and R.V.). A precisely similar
exclamation occurs in Psalm lxxi. 19, in which God's incomparable
greatness is deduced from the great things which He has done. Happy
the singer who has an inexhaustible theme! He is not silenced by the
consciousness of the inadequacy of his songs, but rather inspired to the
never-ending, ever-beginning, joyful task of uttering some new fragment
of that transcendent perfection. Innumerable wonders wrought should be
met by ever-new songs. If they cannot be counted, the more reason for
open-eyed observance of them as they come, and for a stream of praise as
unbroken as is their bright continuance.

If God's mercies thus baffle enumeration and beggar praise, the
question naturally rises, "What shall I render to the Lord for all
His benefits?" Therefore the next turn of thought shows the psalmist
as reaching the lofty spiritual conception that heartfelt delight in
God's will is the true response to God's wonders of love. He soars
far above external rites as well as servile obedience to unloved
authority, and proclaims the eternal and ultimate truth that what
God delights in is man's delight in His will. The great words which
rang the knell of Saul's kingship may well have sounded in his
successor's spirit. Whether they are the source of the language of
our psalm or not, they are remarkably similar. "To obey is better
than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams" (1 Sam. xv.
23), teaches precisely the same lesson as vv. 6-8 of this psalm.
The strong negation in ver. 6 does not deny the Divine institution
of the sacrificial law, but affirms that something much deeper than
external sacrifices is the real object of God's desire. The negation
is made emphatic by enumerating the chief kinds of sacrifice. Whether
they are bloody or bloodless, whether meant to express consecration
or to effect reconciliation, they are none of them the true
sacrifices of God. In ver. 6 the psalmist is entirely occupied with
God's declarations of His requirements; and he presents these in a
remarkable fashion, intercalating the clause, "Ears hast Thou pierced
for me," between the two parallel clauses in regard to sacrifice. Why
should the connection be thus broken? The fact that God has endowed
the psalmist with capacity to apprehend the Divine speech reveals
God's desire concerning him. Just because he has ears to hear, it
is clear that God wishes him to hear, and therefore that outward
acts of worship cannot be the acknowledgment of mercies in which God
delights. The central clause of the verse is embedded in the others,
because it deals with a Divine act which, pondered, will be seen to
establish their teaching. The whole puts in simple, concrete form a
wide principle, namely, that the possession of capacity for receiving
communications of God's will imposes the duty of loving reception and
obedience, and points to inward joyful acceptance of that will as the
purest kind of worship.

Vv. 7 and 8 are occupied with the response to God's requirements thus
manifested by His gift of capacity to hear His voice. "Then said I."
As soon as he had learned the meaning of his ears he found the right
use of his tongue. The thankful heart was moved to swift acceptance of
the known will of God. The clearest recognition of His requirements
may coexist with resistance to them, and needs the impulse of loving
contemplation of God's unnumbered wonders to vivify it into glad
service. "Behold, I am come," is the language of a servant entering
his master's presence in obedience to his call. In ver. 7 the second
clause interrupts just as in ver. 6. There the interruption spoke of
the organ of receiving Divine messages as to duty; here it speaks
of the messages themselves: "In the roll of the book is my duty
prescribed for me." The promise implied in giving ears is fulfilled
by giving a permanent written law. This man, having ears to hear, has
heard, and has not only heard, but welcomed into the inmost recesses
of his heart and will, the declared will of God. The word rendered
"delight" in ver. 8 is the same as is rendered "desire" in ver. 6
(A.V.); and that rendered by the A.V. and R.V. in ver. 8 "will" is
properly "good pleasure." Thus God's delight and man's coincide.
Thankful love assimilates the creature's will with the Divine, and
so changes tastes and impulses that desire and duty are fused into
one. The prescriptions of the book become the delight of the heart.
An inward voice directs. "Love, and do what Thou wilt"; for a will
determined by love cannot but choose to please its Beloved. Liberty
consists in freely willing and victoriously doing what we ought, and
such liberty belongs to hearts whose supreme delight is to please
the God whose numberless wonders have won their love and made their
thanksgivings poor. The law written in the heart was the ideal even
when a law was written on tables of stone. It was the prophetic
promise for the Messianic age. It is fulfilled in the Christian life
in the measure of its genuineness. Unless the heart delights in the
law, acts of obedience count for very little.

The quotation of vv. 7, 8, in Heb. x. 5-7, is mainly from the LXX.,
which has the remarkable rendering of ver. 6 _b_, "A body hast Thou
prepared for me." Probably this is meant as paraphrase rather than
as translation; and it does represent substantially the idea of the
original, since the body is the instrument for fulfilling, just as the
ear is the organ for apprehending, the uttered will of God. The value
of the psalm for the writer of Hebrews does not depend on that clause,
but on the whole representation which it gives of the ideal of the
perfectly righteous servant's true worship, as involving the setting
aside of sacrifice and the decisive pre-eminence of willing obedience.
That ideal is fulfilled in Jesus, and really pointed onwards to Him.
This use of the quotation does not imply the directly Messianic
character of the psalm.

"Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," and thus
the passage is easy from inward delight in God's will to public
declaration of His character. Every true lover of God is a witness of
His sweetness to the world. Since the psalmist had His law hidden in
the depths of his being, he could not "hide" His righteousness within
his heart, but must magnify it with his tongue. That is a feeble and
doubtful love which knows no necessity of utterance. To "love and be
silent" is sometimes imperative, but always burdensome; and a heart
happy in its love cannot choose but ripple out in music of speech.
The psalmist describes himself as a messenger of glad tidings, a true
evangelist. The multiplicity of names for the various aspects of God's
character and acts which he heaps together in these verses serves to
indicate their manifoldness, which he delighted to contemplate, and
his long, loving familiarity with them. He sets his treasure in all
lights, and views it from all points, as a man will turn a jewel in
his hand and get a fresh flash from every facet. "Righteousness," the
good news that the Ruler of all is inflexibly just, with a justice
which scrupulously meets all creatures' needs and becomes penal and
awful only to the rejecters of its tender aspect; "faithfulness,"
the inviolable adherence to every promise; "salvation," the actual
fulness of deliverance and well-being flowing from these attributes;
"loving-kindness" and "troth," often linked together as expressing at
once the warmth and the unchangeableness of the Divine heart--these
have been the psalmist's themes. Therefore they are his hope; and
he is sure that, as he has been their singer, they will be his
preservers. Ver. 11 is not prayer, but bold confidence. It echoes the
preceding verse, since "I did not restrain" (ver. 9) corresponds with
"Thou wilt not restrain," and "Thy loving-kindness and Thy troth" with
the mention of the same attributes in ver. 10. The psalmist is not so
much asserting his claims as giving voice to his faith. He does not
so much think that his utterance is deserving of remuneration as that
God's character makes impossible the supposition that he, who had so
loved and sung His great name in its manifold glories, should find
that name unavailing in his hour of need.

There is an undertone of such felt need even in the confidence of
ver. 11; and it becomes dominant from ver. 12 to the end, but not so
as to overpower the clear note of trust. The difference between the
two parts of the psalm is great, but is not to be exaggerated as if
it were contrariety. In the former part thanksgiving for deliverance
from dangers recently past predominates; in the latter, petition for
deliverance from dangers still threatening: but in both the psalmist
is exercising the same confidence; and if in the beginning he hymns
the praises of God who brought him out of the pit of destruction,
in the end he keeps firm hold of Him as His "Help and Deliverer."
Similarly, while in the first portion he celebrates the "purposes
which are to usward," in the latter he is certain that, needy as he
is, Jehovah has "purposes" of kindness to him. The change of tone is
not so complete as to negative the original unity, and surely it is
not difficult to imagine a situation in which both halves of the psalm
should be appropriate. Are there any deliverances in this perilous
and incomplete life so entire and permanent that they leave no room
for future perils? Must not prevision of coming dangers accompany
thankfulness for past escapes? Our Pharaohs are seldom drowned in
the Red Sea, and we do not often see their corpses stretched on the
sand. The change of tone, of which so much use is made as against
the original unity of the psalm, begins with ver. 12; but that
verse has a very strong and beautiful link of connection with the
previous part, in the description of besetting evils as innumerable.
Both words of ver. 5 are repeated, that for "surpass" or "are more
than" in ver. 12 _c_, that for "number" in _a_. The heart that has
felt how innumerable are God's thoughts and deeds of love is not
utterly reduced to despair, even while it beholds a sea of troubles
rolling its white-crested billows shoreward as far as the horizon.
The sky stretches beyond them, and the true numberlessness of God's
mercies outdoes the great yet really limited range of apparently
numberless sins or sorrows, the consequences of sin. "Mine iniquities
have overtaken me" like pursuing foes, and every calamity that held
him in its grip was a child of a sin of his. Such consciousness of
transgression is not inconsistent with "delight in the law of God
after the inward man," as Paul found out (Rom. vii. 22, 23), but it
sets aside the attempt to make this a directly Messianic psalm. "I am
not able to see." Such is the only possible rendering, for there is
no justification for translating the simple word by "look up." Either
the crowd of surrounding calamities prevent the psalmist from seeing
anything but themselves, or, more probably, the failure of vital power
accompanying his sorrow dims his vision (Psalm xxxviii. 10).

From ver. 13 onwards Psalm lxx. repeats this psalm, with unimportant
verbal differences. The first of these is the omission of "Be pleased"
in ver. 13, which binds this second part to the first, and points
back to "Thy pleasure" (ver. 8). The prayer for the confusion of
enemies closely resembles that in Psalm xxxv., ver. 14 being almost
identical with vv. 4 and 26 there, and ver. 15 recalling ver. 21 of
that psalm. The prayer that enemies may fail in their designs is
consistent with the most Christlike spirit, and nothing more is asked
by the psalmist, but the tinge of satisfaction with which he dwells
on their discomfiture, however natural, belongs to the less lofty
moral standard of his stage of revelation. He uses extraordinarily
forcible words to paint their bewilderment and mortification--may they
blush, turn pale, be driven back, be as if paralysed with shame at
their baffled malice! The prayer for the gladness of God's servants
and seekers is like Psalm xxxv. 27. It asks that fruition as complete
as the disappointment of the foes may be the lot of those whose
desires set towards God, and it is prophecy as well as prayer. Seekers
after God ever find Him, and are more joyful in possession than they
hoped to be while seeking. He alone never eludes search, nor ever
disappoints attainment. They who long for His salvation will receive
it; and their reception will fill their hearts so full of blessedness
that their lips will not be able to refrain from ever-new outbursts of
the old praise, "The Lord be magnified."

Very plaintively and touchingly does the low sigh of personal need
follow this triumphant intercession for the company of the saints.
Its triple elements blend in one believing aspiration, which is not
impatience, though it pleads for swift help. "I am afflicted and
needy"; there the psalmist turns his eye on his own sore necessity.
"Jehovah has purposes for me"; there he turns to God, and links his
final petitions with his earlier trust by the repetition of the word
by which he described (ver. 5) the many gracious designs of God.
"My God, delay not"; there he embraces both in one act of faithful
longing. His need calls for, and God's loving counsels ensure, swift
response. He who delights when an afflicted and poor man calls Him
"my God" will not be slack to vindicate His servant's confidence, and
magnify His own name. That appeal goes straight to the heart of God.




                               PSALM XLI.

   1  Happy the man who considers the helpless;
      In the day of calamity will Jehovah deliver him
   2  Jehovah will preserve him and keep him alive,
      --He shall be counted happy in the land,--
      And do not Thou give him up to the wrath of his enemies.
   3  Jehovah will sustain him on the bed of languishing;
      All his lying down in his sickness Thou hast turned into health.

   4  As for me, I said, Jehovah, be merciful to me,
      Heal my soul, for I have sinned against Thee.
   5  My enemies speak evil against me:
      "When will he die, and his name perish?"
   6  And if one [of them] comes to see [me], he speaks falsehood
                (insincere sympathy);
      His heart collects malice for itself;
      He goes forth, he speaks it.

   7  Together against me do all my haters whisper;
      Against me they plan my hurt:
   8  "A fatal thing is fixed upon him,
      And he who has [now] lain down will rise no more."
   9  Even the man of my peace, in whom I trusted, who ate my bread,
      Has lifted his heel against me.

  10  But Thou, Jehovah, be merciful to me and raise me up,
      That I may requite them.
  11  By this I know that Thou delightest in me,
      Since my enemy triumphs not over me.
  12  And as for me, in my integrity Thou upholdest me,
      And settest me before Thy face for ever.

  13  Blessed be Jehovah, the God of Israel,
      From everlasting and to everlasting
      Amen and Amen.


The central mass of this psalm describes the singer as suffering from
two evils: sickness and treacherous friends. This situation naturally
leads up to the prayer and confidence of the closing strophe (vv.
10-12). But its connection with the introductory verses (1-3) is less
plain. A statement of the blessings ensured to the compassionate
seems a singular introduction to the psalmist's pathetic exhibition
of his sorrows. Cheyne thinks that the opening verses were added by
the framer of the collection to adapt the poem to the use of the
Church of his own time, and that "the original opening must have been
different" ("Orig. of Psalt.," 246, _n._). It is to be observed,
however, that the two points of the psalmist's affliction are the
two from which escape is assured to the compassionate, who shall not
be "delivered to the desire of his enemies," and shall be supported
and healed in sickness. Probably, therefore, the general promises of
vv. 1-3 are silently applied by the psalmist to himself; and he is
comforting his own sorrow with the assurance which in his humility he
casts into impersonal form. He has been merciful, and believes, though
things look dark, that he will obtain mercy. There is probably also
an intentional contrast with the cruel exacerbation of his sufferings
by uncompassionate companions, which has rubbed salt into his wounds.
He has a double consciousness in these opening verses, inasmuch as he
partly thinks of himself as the compassionate man and partly as the
"weak" one who is compassionated.

The combination of sickness and treachery is remarkable, especially
if the former is taken literally, as the strongly marked details seem
to require. The sick man is visited by an insincere sympathiser, who
is all eyes to note symptoms of increasing weakness, and all tongue,
as soon as he gets out of the sick-room, to give the result, which is
to his malice the better the worse it is. Such a picture looks as if
drawn from life, and the sketch of the traitor friend seems to be a
portrait of a real person. The supporters of the post-exilic date and
national interpretation of the psalm have not succeeded in pointing out
who the false friends of Israel were, who seemed to condole with, and
really rejoiced over, its weakness, or who were the treacherous allies
who failed it. The theory of the Davidic origin has in its favour the
correspondence of Ahithophel's treason with the treachery of the trusted
friend in the psalm; and, while it must be admitted that there is no
mention of sickness in the narrative in 2 Samuel, the supposition that
trouble of conscience had brought illness gains some countenance from
Psalm xxxii., if it is Davidic, and would naturally explain David's
singular passiveness whilst Absalom was hatching his plot.

The psalm may be divided into four strophes, of which, however, the two
middle ones cohere very closely. Vv. 1-3 give the mercy requited to
the merciful; vv. 4-6, after a brief prayer and confession begin the
picture of the psalmist's sufferings, which is carried on through the
next strophe (vv. 7-9), with the difference that in the former the scene
is mainly the sick man's chamber, and in the latter the meeting-place
of the secret conspirators. Vv. 10-12 build on this picture of distress
a prayer for deliverance, and rise to serene confidence in its certain
answer. The closing doxology is not part of the psalm, but is appended
as the conclusion of the first book of the Psalter.

The principle that God's dealings with us correspond to our dealings
with men, as clouds are moulded after the curves of the mountains
which they touch, is no less characteristic of the New Testament
than of the Old. The merciful obtain mercy; God forgives those who
forgive their brethren. The absoluteness of statement in this psalm
is, of course, open to misunderstanding; but the singer had not such
a superficial view of his relations to God as to suppose that kindly
sympathy was the sole condition of Divine compassion. That virtue,
the absence of which added pangs to his pains, might well seem to a
sufferer writhing under the bitterness of its opposite the Divinest
of all excellencies, and worthiest of recompense. That its requital
should be mainly considered as consisting in temporal deliverance
and physical health is partly due to the characteristics of the Old
Testament promises of blessedness, and partly to the psalmist's
momentary needs. We have noted that these are reflected in the
blessings promised in vv. 1-3. The "happy" of ver. 1 is caught up in
the abruptly introduced "He shall be counted happy" of ver. 2, which
may carry tacit reference to the malicious slanders that aggravated
the psalmist's sufferings, and anticipates deliverance so perfect
that all who see him shall think him fortunate. The next clause rises
into direct address of Jehovah, and is shown by the form of the
negative in the Hebrew to be petition, not assertion, thus strongly
confirming the view that "me" lurks below "him" in this context. A
similar transition from the third to the second person occurs in ver.
3, as if the psalmist drew closer to his God. There is also a change
of tense in the verbs there: "Jehovah _will_ sustain"; "Thou _hast_
turned," the latter tense converting the general truth expressed in
the former clause into a fact of experience. The precise meaning of
this verse is questioned, some regarding both clauses as descriptive
of tender nursing, which sustains the drooping head and smoothes the
crumpled bedding, while others, noting that the word rendered "bed"
(A.V. and R.V.) in the second clause means properly "lying down," take
that clause as descriptive of turning sickness into convalescence. The
latter meaning gives a more appropriate ending to the strophe, as it
leaves the sick man healed, not tossing on a disordered bed, as the
other explanation does. Jehovah does not half cure.

The second and third strophes (vv. 4-9) are closely connected. In
them the psalmist recounts his sorrows and pains, but first breathes
a prayer for mercy, and bases it no longer on his mercifulness, but
on his sin. Only a shallow experience will find contradiction here to
either the former words, or to the later profession of "integrity"
(ver. 12). The petition for soul-healing does not prove that sickness
in the following verses is figurative, but results from the belief that
sorrow is the effect of sin, a view which belongs to the psalmist's
stage of revelation, and is not to be held by Christians in the same
absolute fashion. If the Davidic origin of the psalm is recognised,
the connection of the king's great sin with all his after-sorrows is
patent. However he had been merciful and compassionate in general, his
own verdict on the man in Nathan's parable was that he "showed no pity,"
and that sin bore bitter fruit in all his life. It was the parent of
all the sensual outrages in his own house; it underlay Ahithophel's
treachery; it had much to do in making his reign abhorred; it brought
the fuel which Absalom fired, and if our supposition is right as to the
origin of the sickness spoken of in this psalm, that sin and the remorse
that followed it gnawed at the roots of bodily health. So the psalmist,
if he is indeed the royal sinner, had need to pray for soul-healing
first, even though he was conscious of much compassion and hoped for
its recompense. While he speaks thus to Jehovah, his enemies speak
in a different tone. The "evil" which they utter is not calumny, but
malediction. Their hatred is impatient for his death. The time seems
long till they can hear of it. One of them comes on a hypocritical
visit of solicitude ("see" is used for visiting the sick in 2 Kings
viii. 29), and speaks lying condolence, while he greedily collects
encouraging symptoms that the disease is hopeless. Then he hurries
back to tell how much worse he had found the patient; and that ignoble
crew delight in the good news, and send it flying. This very special
detail goes strongly in favour of the view that we have in this whole
description a transcript of literal, personal experience. There were
plenty of concealed enemies round David in the early stages of Absalom's
conspiracy, who would look eagerly for signs of his approaching death,
which might save the need of open revolt and plunge the kingdom into
welcome confusion. The second strophe ends with the exit of the false
friend.

The third (vv. 7-9) carries him to the meeting-place of the plotters,
who eagerly receive and retail the good news that the sick man is
worse. They feed their ignoble hate by picturing further ill as laying
hold of him. Their wish is parent to their thought, which is confirmed
by the report of their emissary. "A thing of Belial is poured out on
him," or "is fastened upon him," say they. That unusual expression
may refer either to moral or physical evil. In the former sense it
would here mean the sufferer's sin, in the latter a fatal disease.
The connection makes the physical reference the more likely. This
incurable disease is conceived of as "poured out," or perhaps as
"molten on him," so that it cannot be separated from him. Therefore
he will never rise from his sick-bed. But even this murderous glee
is not the psalmist's sharpest pang. "The man of my peace," trusted,
honoured, admitted to the privileges, and therefore bound by the
obligations, of hospitality so sacred in the old world, has kicked
the prostrate sufferer, as the ass in the fable did the sick lion.
The treachery of Ahithophel at once occurs to mind. No doubt many
treacherous friends have wounded many trustful hearts, but the
correspondence of David's history with this detail is not to be got
rid of by the observation that treachery is common. Still less is it
sufficient to quote Obad. 7, where substantially the same language
is employed in reference to the enemies of Edom, as supporting the
national reference of the present passage. No one denies that false
allies may be described by such a figure, or that nations may be
personified; but is there any event in the post-exilic history which
shows Israel deceived and spurned by trusted allies? The Davidic
authorship and the personal reference of the psalm are separable. But
if the latter is adopted, it will be hard to find any circumstances
answering so fully to the details of the psalm as the Absalomic
rebellion and Ahithophel's treason. Our Lord's quotation of part of
ver. 9, with the significant omission of "in whom I trusted," does not
imply the Messianic character of the psalm, but is an instance of an
event and a saying which were not meant as prophetic, finding fuller
realisation in the life of the perfect type of suffering godliness
than in the original sufferer.

The last strophe (vv. 10-12) recurs to prayer, and soars to confidence
born of communion. A hand stretched out in need and trust soon comes
back filled with blessings. Therefore here the moment of true petition
is the moment of realised answer. The prayer traverses the malicious
hopes of enemies. They had said, "He will rise no more"; it prays,
"Raise me up." It touches a note which sounds discordant in the desire
"that I may requite them"; and it is far more truly reverential and
appreciative of the progress of revelation to recognise the relative
inferiority of the psalmist's wish to render _quid pro quo_ than to put
violence on his words, in order to harmonise them with Christian ethics,
or to slur over the distinction between the Law, of which the keynote
was retribution, and the Gospel, of which it is forgiveness.

But the last words of the psalm are sunny with the assurance of present
favour and with boundless hope. The man is still lying on his sick-bed,
ringed by whispering foes. There is no change without, but this change
has passed: that he has tightened his hold of God, and therefore can
feel that his enemies' whispers will never rise or swell into a shout
of victory over him. He can speak of the future deliverance as if
present; and he can look ahead over an indefinite stretch of sunlit
country, scarcely knowing whether the furthest point is earth or no. His
integrity is not sinless, nor does he plead it as a reason for Jehovah's
upholding, but hopes for it as the consequence of His sustaining hand.
He knows that he will have close approach to Jehovah; and though, no
doubt, "for ever" on his lips meant less than it does on ours, his
assurance of continuous communion with God reached, if not to actual,
clear consciousness of immortality, at all events to assurance of a
future so indefinitely extended, and so brightened by the sunlight
of God's face, that it wanted but little additional extension or
brightening to be the full assurance of life immortal.




                                BOOK II.

                         _PSALMS XLII.-LXXII._




                          PSALMS XLII., XLIII.

                              PSALM XLII.

   1  Like a hind which pants after the water-brooks,
      So pants, my soul after Thee, O God.
   2  My soul thirsts for God, for the living God;
      When shall I come and appear before God?
   3  My tears have been bread to me day and night,
      While they say to me all the day, Where is thy God?
   4  This would I remember, and pour out my soul in me,
      How I went with the throng, led them in procession to the house of
                God,
      With shrill cries of joy and thanksgiving, a multitude keeping
                festival.
   5  Why art thou bowed down, my soul, and moanest within me?
      Hope in God, for I shall yet give Him thanks,
      [As] the help of my countenance and my God.

   6  Within me is my soul bowed down;
      Therefore let me remember Thee from the land of Jordan and of the
                Hermons, from Mount Mizar.
   7  Flood calls to flood at the voice of Thy cataracts;
      All Thy breakers and rollers are gone over me.
   8  [Yet] by day will Jehovah command His loving-kindness,
      And in the night shall a song to Him be with me,
      [Even] a prayer to the God of my life.
   9  Let me say to God my Rock, Why hast Thou forgotten me?
      Why must I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?
  10  As if they crushed my bones, my adversaries reproach me,
      Whilst all the day they say to me, Where is thy God?
  11  Why art thou bowed down, my soul, and why moanest thou within me?
      Hope thou in God, for I shall yet give Him thanks
      [As] the help of my countenance and my God.


                              PSALM XLIII.

  1  Do me right, O God, and plead my plea against a loveless nation;
     From the man of fraud and mischief rescue me.
  2  For Thou art God my stronghold; why hast Thou cast me off?
     Why must I wearily go mourning because of the oppression of the
                enemy?
  3  Send out Thy light and Thy troth; let them lead me;
     Let them bring me to Thy holy hill and to Thy tabernacles,
  4  That I may come in to the altar of God,
     To God, the gladness of my joy,
     And give Thee thanks with the harp, O God, my God.
  5  Why art thou bowed down, my soul, and why moanest thou within me?
     Hope in God, for I shall yet give Him thanks,
     [As] the help of my countenance and my God.


The second book of the Psalter is characterised by the use of the
Divine name "Elohim" instead of "Jehovah." It begins with a cluster
of seven psalms (reckoning Psalms xlii. and xliii. as one) of which
the superscription is most probably regarded as ascribing their
authorship to "the sons of Korach." These were Levites, and (according
to 1 Chron. ix. 19 _seq._) the office of keepers of the door of the
sanctuary had been hereditary in their family from the time of Moses.
Some of them were among the faithful adherents of David at Ziklag
(1 Chron. xii. 6), and in the new model of worship inaugurated by
him the Korachites were doorkeepers and musicians. They retained the
former office in the second Temple (Neh. xi. 19). The ascription of
authorship to a group is remarkable, and has led to the suggestion
that the superscription does not specify the authors, but the persons
for whose use the psalms in question were composed. The Hebrew would
bear either meaning; but if the latter is adopted, all these psalms
are anonymous. The same construction is found in Book I. in Psalms
xxv.-xxviii., xxxv., xxxvii., where it is obviously the designation
of authorship, and it is naturally taken to have the same force
in these Korachite psalms. It has been ingeniously conjectured by
Delitzsch that the Korachite Psalms originally formed a separate
collection entitled "Songs of the Sons of Korach," and that this
title afterwards passed over into the superscriptions when they were
incorporated in the Psalter. It may have been so, but the supposition
is unnecessary. It was not exactly literary fame which psalmists
hungered for. The actual author, as one of a band of kinsmen who
worked and sang together, would, not unnaturally, be content to sink
his individuality and let his song go forth as that of the band.
Clearly the superscriptions rested upon some tradition or knowledge,
else defective information would not have been acknowledged as it is
in this one; but some name would have been coined to fill the gap.

The two psalms (xlii., xliii.) are plainly one. The absence of a title
for the second, the identity of tone throughout, the recurrence of
several phrases, and especially of the refrain, put this beyond doubt.
The separation, however, is old, since it is found in the LXX. It is
useless to speculate on its origin.

There is much in the psalms which favours the hypothesis that the
author was a Korachite companion of David's in his flight before
Absalom; but the locality, described as that of the singer, does not
entirely correspond to that of the king's retreat, and the description
of the enemies is not easily capable of application in all points to
his foes. The house of God is still standing; the poet has been there
recently, and hopes soon to return and render praise. Therefore the
psalm must be pre-exilic; and while there is no certainty attainable
as to date, it may at least be said that the circumstances of the
singer present more points of contact with those of the supposed
Korachite follower of David's fortunes on the uplands across Jordan
than with those of any other of the imaginary persons to whom modern
criticism has assigned the poem. Whoever wrote it has given immortal
form to the longings of the soul after God. He has fixed for ever and
made melodious a sigh.

The psalm falls into three parts, each closing with the same
refrain. Longings and tears, remembrances of festal hours passed in
the sanctuary melt the singer's soul, while taunting enemies hiss
continual sarcasms at him as forsaken by his God. But his truer self
silences these lamentations, and cheers the feebler "soul" with clear
notes of trust and hope, blown in the refrain, like some trumpet-clang
rallying dispirited fugitives to the fight. The stimulus serves for
a moment; but once more courage fails, and once more, at yet greater
length and with yet sadder tones, plaints and longings are wailed
forth. Once more, too, the higher self repeats its half-rebuke,
half-encouragement. So ends the first of the psalms; but obviously it
is no real ending, for the victory over fear is not won, and longing
has not become blessed. So once more the wave of emotion rolls over
the psalmist, but with a new aspect which makes all the difference.
He prays now; he had only remembered and complained and said that he
would pray before. Therefore now he triumphs, and though he still is
keenly conscious of his enemies, they appear but for a moment, and,
though he still feels that he is far from the sanctuary, his heart
goes out in hopeful visions of the gladness of his return thither,
and he already tastes the rapture of the joy that will then flood
his heart. Therefore the refrain comes for a third time; and this
time the longing, trembling soul continues at the height to which the
better self has lifted it, and silently acknowledges that it need
not have been cast down. Thus the whole song is a picture of a soul
climbing, not without backward slips, from the depths to the heights,
or, in another aspect, of the transformation of longing into certainty
of fruition, which is itself fruition after a kind.

Perhaps the singer had seen, during his exile on the eastern side of
Jordan, some gentle creature, with open mouth and heaving flanks,
eagerly seeking in dry wadies for a drop of water to cool her
outstretched tongue; and the sight had struck on his heart as an
image of himself longing for the presence of God in the sanctuary. A
similar bit of local colour is generally recognised in ver. 7. Nature
reflects the poet's moods, and overmastering emotion sees its own
analogues everywhere. That lovely metaphor has touched the common
heart as few have done, and the solitary singer's plaint has fitted
all devout lips. Injustice is done it, if it is regarded merely as
the longing of a Levite for approach to the sanctuary. No doubt the
psalmist connected communion with God and presence in the Temple more
closely together than they should do who have heard the great charter,
"neither in this mountain, nor in Jerusalem"; but, however the two
things were coupled in his mind, they were sufficiently separate to
allow of approach by longing and prayer while distant in body, and the
true object of yearning was not access to the Temple, but communion
with the God of the Temple.

The "soul" is feminine in Hebrew, and is here compared to the female
deer, for "pants" is the feminine form of the verb, though its noun is
masculine. It is better therefore to translate "hind" than "hart."
The "soul" is the seat of emotions and desires. It "pants" and
"thirsts," is "cast down" and disquieted; it is "poured out"; it can
be bidden to "hope." Thus tremulous, timid, mobile, it is beautifully
compared to a hind. The true object of its longings is always God,
however little it knows for what it is thirsting. But they are happy
in their very yearnings who are conscious of the true direction of
these, and can say that it is God for whom they are athirst. All
unrest of longing, all fever of thirst, all outgoings of desire, are
feelers put out blindly, and are only stilled when they clasp Him. The
correspondence between man's needs and their true object is involved
in that name "the living God"; for a heart can rest only in one
all-sufficient Person, and must have a heart to throb against. Neither
abstractions nor dead things can still its cravings. That which does
must be living. But no finite being can still them; and after all
sweetnesses of human loves and helps of human strengths, the soul's
thirst remains unslaked, and the Person who is enough must be the
living God. The difference between the devout and the worldly man is
just that the one can only say, "My soul pants and thirsts," and the
other can add "after Thee, O God."

This man's longing was intensified by his unwilling exile from the
sanctuary, a special privation to a door-keeper of the Temple. His
situation and mood closely resemble those in another Korachite psalm
(lxxxiv.), in which, as here, the soul "faints for the courts of the
Lord," and as here the panting hind, so there the glancing swallows
flitting about the eaves are woven into the song. Unnamed foes taunt the
psalmist with the question, "Where is thy God?" There is no necessity
to conclude that these were heathens, though the taunt is usually put
into heathen lips (Psalms lxxix. 10; lii. 2) but it would be quite as
natural from co-religionists, flouting his fervour and personal grasp of
God and taking his sorrows as tokens of God's abandonment of him. That
is the world's way with the calamities of a devout man, whose humble
cry, "My God," it resents as presumption or hypocrisy.

But even these bitter sarcasms are less bitter than the remembrance
of "happier things," which is his "sorrow's crown of sorrow." Yet,
with the strange but universal love of summoning up remembrance of
departed joys, the psalmist finds a certain pleasure in the pain of
recalling how he, a Levite, led the festal march to the Temple, and in
listening in fancy again to the shrill cries of joy which broke from
the tumultuous crowd. The form of the verbs "remember" and "pour out"
in ver. 4 indicates set purpose.

The higher self arrests this flow of self-pity and lamentation. The
feminine soul has to give account of her moods to calmer judgment, and
to be lifted and steadied by the strong spirit. The preceding verses
have given ample reason why she has been dejected, but now she is
summoned to repeat them to a judicial ear. The insufficiency of the
circumstances described to warrant the vehement emotions expressed is
implied in the summons. Feeling has to vindicate its rationality or
to suppress itself, and its grounds have often only to be stated to
the better self, to be found altogether disproportioned to the storm
they have raised. It is a very elementary but necessary lesson for the
conduct of life that emotion of all sorts, sad or glad, religious or
other, needs rigid scrutiny and firm control, sometimes stimulating
and sometimes chilling. The true counterpoise to its excess lies in
directing it to God and in making Him the object of hope and patient
waiting. Emotion varies, but God is the same. The facts on which faith
feeds abide while faith fluctuates. The secret of calm is to dwell in
that inner chamber of the secret place of the Most High, which whoso
inhabits "heareth not the loud winds when they call," and is neither
dejected nor uplifted, neither disturbed by excessive joys nor torn by
anxieties.

Ver. 5 has the refrain in a form slightly different from that of the
other two instances of its occurrence (ver. 11 and xliii. 5). But
probably the text is faulty. The shifting of the initial word of ver.
6 to the end of ver. 5, and the substitution of _My_ for _His_, bring
the three refrains into line, and avoid the harsh expression "help of
His countenance." Since no reason for the variation is discernible,
and the proposed slight change of text improves construction and
restores uniformity, it is probably to be adopted. If it is, the
second part of the psalm is also conformed to the other two in regard
to its not beginning with the Divine name.

The break in the clouds is but momentary, and the grey wrack fills the
sky once more. The second part of the psalm takes up the question of
the refrain, and first reiterates with bitter emphasis that the soul
is bowed down, and then pours out once more the stream of reasons
for dejection. But the curb has not been applied quite in vain, for
throughout the succeeding verses there is a striking alternation
of despondency and hope. Streaks of brightness flash through the
gloom. Sorrow is shot with trust. This conflict of opposite emotions
is the characteristic of the second part of the psalm, while that
of the first part is an all but unrelieved predominance of gloom,
and that of the third an all but undisputed victory of sunshine.
Naturally this transition strophe is marked by the mingling of both.
In the former part, memory was the handmaid of sorrow, and came
involuntarily, and increased the singer's pain; but in this part he
makes an effort of will to remember, and in remembrance finds an
antidote to sorrow. To recall past joys adds stings to present grief,
but to remember God brings an anodyne for the smart. The psalmist
is far from the sanctuary, but distance does not hinder thought.
This man's faith was not so dependent on externals that it could not
come close to God while distant from His temple. It had been so far
strengthened by the encouragement of the refrain that the reflux
of sadness at once rouses it to action. "My soul is cast down; ...
_therefore_ let me remember Thee." With wise resolve he finds in
dejection a reason for nestling closer to God. In reference to the
description of the psalmist's locality, Cheyne beautifully says, "The
preposition 'from' is chosen (rather than 'in') with a subtle purpose.
It suggests that the psalmist's faith will bridge over the interval
between himself and the sanctuary: 'I can send my thoughts to Thee
from the distant frontier'" (_in loc._). The region intended seems
to be "the north-eastern corner of Palestine, near the lower <DW72>s
of Hermon" (Cheyne, _u.s._). The plural "Hermons" is probably used
in reference to the group of crests. "Mizar" is probably the name of
a hill otherwise unknown, and specifies the singer's locality more
minutely, though not helpfully to us. Many ingenious attempts have
been made to explain the name either as symbolical or as a common
noun, and not a proper name, but these need not be dealt with here.
The locality thus designated is too far north for the scene of David's
retreat before Absalom, unless we give an unusual southward extension
to the names; and this makes a difficulty in the way of accepting the
hypothesis of the author's having been in his retinue.

The twofold emotions of ver. 6 recur in vv. 7, 8, where we have
first renewed despondency and then reaction into hope. The imagery
of floods lifting up their voices, and cataracts sounding as they
fall, and breaking waves rolling over the half-drowned psalmist has
been supposed to be suggested by the scenery in which he was; but the
rushing noise of Jordan in its rocky bed seems scarcely enough to
deserve being described as "flood calling to flood," and "breakers
and rollers" is an exaggeration if applied to any commotion possible
on such a stream. The imagery is so usual that it needs no assumption
of having been occasioned by the poet's locality. The psalmist paints
his calamities as storming on him in dismal continuity, each "flood"
seeming to summon its successor. They rush upon him, multitudinous
and close following; they pour down on him as with the thunder of
descending cataracts; they overwhelm him like the breakers and
rollers of an angry ocean. The bold metaphors are more striking when
contrasted with the opposite ones of the first part. The dry and
thirsty land there and the rush of waters here mean the same thing, so
flexible is nature in a poet's hands.

Then follows a gleam of hope, like a rainbow spanning the waterfall.
With the alternation of mood already noticed as characteristic,
the singer looks forward, even from the midst of overwhelming seas
of trouble, to a future day when God will give His angel, Mercy or
Loving-kindness, charge concerning him and draw him out of many
waters. That day of extrication will surely be followed by a night
of music and of thankful prayer (for supplication is not the only
element in prayer) to Him who by His deliverance has shown Himself
to be the "God of" the rescued man's "life." The epithet answers to
that of the former part, "the living God," from which it differs
by but one additional letter. He who has life in Himself is the
Giver and Rescuer of our lives, and to Him they are to be rendered
in thankful sacrifice. Once more the contending currents meet in
vv. 9 and 10, in the former of which confidence and hope utter
themselves in the resolve to appeal to God and in the name given to
Him as "my Rock"; while another surge of despondency breaks, in the
question in which the soul interrogates God, as the better self had
interrogated her, and contrasts almost reproachfully God's apparent
forgetfulness, manifested by His delay in deliverance, with her
remembrance of Him. It is not a question asked for enlightenment's
sake, but is an exclamation of impatience, if not of rebuke. Ver.
10 repeats the enemies' taunt, which is there represented as like
crushing blows which broke the bones. And then once more above this
conflict of emotion soars the clear note of the refrain, summoning to
self-command, calmness, and unfaltering hope.

But the victory is not quite won, and therefore Psalm xliii. follows.
It is sufficiently distinct in tone to explain its separation from
the preceding, inasmuch as it is prayer throughout, and the note
of joy is dominant, even while an undertone of sadness links it
with the previous parts. The unity is vouched by the considerations
already noticed, and by the incompleteness of Psalm xlii. without
such triumphant close and of Psalm xliii. without such despondent
beginning. The prayer of vv. 1, 2, blends the two elements, which
were at war in the second part; and for the moment the darker is
the more prominent. The situation is described as in the preceding
parts. The enemy is called a "loveless nation." The word rendered
"loveless" is compounded of the negative prefix and the word which is
usually found with the meaning of "one whom God favours," or visits
with loving-kindness. It has been much disputed whether its proper
signification is active (one who shows loving-kindness) or passive
(one who receives it). But, considering that loving-kindness is in the
Psalter mainly a Divine attribute, and that, when a human excellence,
it is regarded as derived from and being the echo of experienced
Divine mercy, it is best to take the passive meaning as the principal,
though sometimes, as unmistakably here, the active is more suitable.
These loveless people are not further defined, and may either have
been Israelites or aliens. Perhaps there was one "man" of special
mischief prominent among them, but it is not safe to treat that
expression as anything but a collective. Ver. 2 looks back to xlii.
9, the former clause in each verse being practically equivalent, and
the second in xliii. being a quotation of the second in ver. 9, with a
variation in the form of the verb to suggest more vividly the picture
of weary, slow, dragging gait, fit for a man clad in mourning garb.

But the gloomier mood has shot its last bolt. Grief which finds no
fresh words is beginning to dry up. The stage of mechanical repetition
of complaints is not far from that of cessation of them. So the higher
mood conquers at last, and breaks into a burst of joyous petition,
which passes swiftly into realisation of the future joys whose coming
shines thus far off. Hope and trust hold the field. The certainty of
return to the Temple overbears the pain of absence from it, and the
vivid realisation of the gladness of worshipping again at the altar
takes the place of the vivid remembrance of former festal approach
thither. It is the prerogative of faith to make pictures drawn by
memory pale beside those painted by hope. Light and Troth--_i.e._,
Loving-kindness and Faithfulness in fulfilling promises--are like
two angels, despatched from the presence-chamber of God, to guide
with gentleness the exile's steps. That is to say, because God is
mercy and faithfulness, the return of the psalmist to the home of
his heart is sure. God being what He is, no longing soul can ever
remain unsatisfied. The actual return to the Temple is desired because
thereby new praise will be occasioned. Not mere bodily presence there,
but that joyful outpouring of triumph and gladness, is the object of
the psalmist's longing. He began with yearning after the living God.
In his sorrow he could still think of Him at intervals as the help of
his countenance and call Him "my God." He ends with naming Him "the
gladness of my joy." Whoever begins as he did will finish where he
climbed. The refrain is repeated for a third time, and is followed by
no relapse into sadness. The effort of faith should be persistent,
even if old bitternesses begin again and "break the low beginnings of
content"; for, even if the wild waters burst through the dam once and
again, they do not utterly wash it away and there remains a foundation
on which it may be built up anew. Each swing of the gymnast lifts him
higher, until he is on a level with a firm platform on which he can
spring and stand secure. Faith may have a long struggle with fear,
but it will have the last word, and that word will be "the help of my
countenance and my God."




                              PSALM XLIV.

   1  O God, with our ears we have heard,
      Our fathers have told to us,
      The work Thou didst work in their days,
      In the days of yore.
   2  Thou [with] Thy hand didst dispossess nations, and didst plant
                _them_,
      Didst afflict peoples and spread _them_ forth.
   3  For not by their own sword did they possess the land,
      And their own arm did not save them,
      But Thy right hand and Thine arm, and the light of Thy face,
      Because Thou hadst delight in them.
   4  Thou Thyself art my King, O God;
      Command salvations for Jacob.
   5  Through Thee can we butt down our oppressors;
      In Thy name can we trample those that rise against us.
   6  For not in my own bow do I trust,
      And my own sword does not save me.
   7  But Thou hast saved us from our oppressors,
      And our haters Thou hast put to shame.
   8  In God have we made our boast all the day,
      And Thy name will we thank for ever. Selah.

   9  Yet Thou hast cast [us] off and shamed us,
      And goest not forth with our hosts.
  10  Thou makest us turn back from the oppressor,
      And our haters plunder to their hearts' content.
  11  Thou makest us like sheep for food,
      And among the nations hast Thou scattered us.
  12  Thou sellest Thy people at no profit,
      And hast not increased [Thy wealth] by their price.
  13  Thou makest us a reproach for our neighbours,
      A mockery and derision to those around us.
  14  Thou makest us a proverb among the nations,
      A nodding of the head among the peoples.
  15  All the day is my dishonour before me,
      And the shame of my face has covered me,
  16  Because of the voice of the rebuker and blasphemer,
      Because of the face of the enemy and the revengeful.

  17  All this is come upon us, and [yet] have we not forgotten Thee,
      Nor been false to Thy covenant.
  18  Our heart has not turned back,
      Nor our footsteps swerved from Thy way.
  19  That Thou shouldest have crushed us in the place of jackals,
      And covered us with thick darkness.
  20  If we had forgotten the name of our God
      And spread out our hands to a strange God,
  21  Would not God search out this? for He knows the secrets of the
                heart.
  22  Nay, for Thy sake are we killed all the day;
      We are reckoned as sheep for slaughter.

  23  Awake; why sleepest Thou, Lord?
      Arise; cast not off for ever.
  24  Why hidest Thou Thy face,
      Forgettest our affliction and oppression?
  25  For bowed to the dust is our soul;
      Our body cleaves to the earth.
  26  Arise [for] a help for us,
      And redeem us for Thy loving-kindness' sake.


Calvin says that the authorship of this psalm is uncertain, but
that it is abundantly clear that it was composed by any one rather
than David, and that its plaintive contents suit best the time when
the savage tyranny of Antiochus raged. No period corresponds to the
situation which makes the background of the psalm so completely as
the Maccabean, for only then could it be truly said that national
calamities fell because of the nation's rigid monotheism. Other epochs
have been thought of, so as to avoid the necessity of recognising
Maccabean psalms, but none of them can be said to meet the conditions
described in the psalm. The choice lies between accepting the
Maccabean date and giving up the attempt to fix one at all.

Objections to that late date based upon the history of the completion
of the canon take for granted more accurate and complete knowledge
of a very obscure subject than is possessed, and do not seem strong
enough to negative the indications arising from the very unique fact,
asserted in the psalm, that the nation was persecuted for its faith
and engaged in a religious war. The psalm falls into four parts: a
wistful look backwards to days already "old," when God fought for
them (vv. 1-8); a sad contrast in present oppression (vv. 9-16);
a profession of unfaltering national adherence to the covenant
notwithstanding all these ills (vv. 17-22); and a fervent cry to a God
who seems asleep to awake and rescue His martyred people (vv. 23-26).

The first part (vv. 1-8) recalls the fact that shone so brightly in
all the past, the continual exercise of Divine power giving victory to
their weakness, and builds thereon a prayer that the same law of His
providence might be fulfilled now. The bitter side of the retrospect
forces itself into consciousness in the next part, but here Memory is
the handmaid of Faith. The whole process of the Exodus and conquest of
Canaan is gathered up as one great "work" of God's hand. The former
inhabitants of the land were uprooted like old trees, to give room for
planting the "vine out of Egypt." Two stages in the settlement are
distinguished in ver. 2: first came the "planting" and next the growth;
for the phrase "didst spread them forth" carries on the metaphor of
the tree, and expresses the extension of its roots and branches. The
ascription of victory to God is made more emphatic by the negatives in
ver. 3, which take away all credit of it from the people's own weapons
or strength. The consciousness of our own impotence must accompany
adequate recognition of God's agency in our deliverances. The conceit
of our own power blinds our vision of His working hand. But what moved
His power? No merit of man's, but the infinite free grace of God's
heart. "The light of Thy face" is the symbol of God's loving regard,
and the deepest truth as to His acts of favour is that they are the
outcome of His own merciful nature. He is His own motive. "Thou hadst
delight in them" is the ultimate word, leading us into sacred abysses of
self-existent and self-originated Deity. The spirit, then, of Israel's
history is contained in these three thoughts: the positive assertion
of God's power as the reason for their victories; the confirmatory
negative, putting aside their own prowess; and the tracing of all God's
work for them solely to His unmerited grace.

On this grand generalisation of the meaning of past centuries a
prayer is built for their repetition in the prosaic present. The
psalmist did not think that God was nearer in some majestic past
than now. His unchangeableness had for consequence, as he thought,
continuous manifestation of Himself in the same character and relation
to His people. To-day is as full of God as any yesterday. Therefore
ver. 4 begins with an emphatic recognition of the constancy of the
Divine nature in that strong expression "Thou Thyself," and with an
individualising transition for a moment to the singular in "my King,"
in order to give most forcible utterance to the thought that He was
the same to each man of that generation as He had been to the fathers.
On that unchanging relation rests the prayer, "Command salvations for
(lit. _of_) Jacob," as if a multitude of several acts of deliverance
stood before God, as servants waiting to be sent on His errands. Just
as God (Elohim) takes the place of Jehovah in this second book of
the Psalter, so in it Jacob frequently stands for Israel. The prayer
is no sooner spoken than the confidence in its fulfilment lifts the
suppliant's heart buoyantly above present defeat, which will in the
next turn of thought insist on being felt. Such is the magic of every
act of true appeal to God. However dark the horizon, there is light if
a man looks straight up. Thus this psalmist breaks into anticipatory
paeans of victory. The vivid image of ver. 5 is taken from the
manner of fighting common to wild horned animals, buffaloes and the
like, who first prostrate their foe by their fierce charge and then
trample him. The individualising "my" reappears in ver. 6, where the
negation that had been true of the ancestors is made his own by the
descendant. Each man must, as his own act, appropriate the universal
relation of God to men and make God his God, and must also disown for
himself reliance on himself. So he will enter into participation in
God's victories. Remembrance of the victorious past and confidence
in a like victorious future blend in the closing burst of praise
and vow for its continuance, which vow takes for granted the future
continued manifestation of deliverances as occasions for uninterrupted
thanksgivings. Well might some long-drawn, triumphant notes from the
instruments prolong the impression of the jubilant words.

The song drops in the second part (vv. 9-16) from these clear heights
with lyric suddenness. The grim facts of defeat and consequent
exposure to mocking laughter from enemies force themselves into
sight, and seem utterly to contradict the preceding verses. But the
first part speaks with the voice of faith, and the second with that
of sense, and these two may sound in very close sequence or even
simultaneously. In ver. 9 the two verbs are united by the absence of
"us" with the first; and the difference of tense in the Hebrew brings
out the dependence of the second on the first, as effect and cause.
God's rejection is the reason for the nation's disgrace by defeat.
In the subsequent verses the thoughts of rejection and disgrace are
expanded, the former in ver. 9 _b_ to ver. 12, and the latter in vv.
13-16. The poet paints with few strokes the whole disastrous rout. We
see the fated band going out to battle, with no Pillar of Cloud or Ark
of the Covenant at their head. They have but their own weapons and
sinews to depend on--not, as of old, a Divine Captain. No description
of a fight under such conditions is needed, for it can have only one
issue; and so the next clause shows panic-struck flight. Whoever goes
into battle without God comes out of it without victory. Next follows
plundering, as was the savage wont of these times, and there is no
force to oppose the spoilers. The routed fugitives are defenceless and
unresisting as sheep, and their fate is to be devoured, or possibly
the expression "sheep for food" may be substantially equivalent to
"sheep for the slaughter" (ver. 22), and may refer to the usual
butchery of a defeated army. Some of them are slain and others carried
off as slaves. The precise rendering of ver. 12 _b_ is doubtful.
Calvin, and, among the moderns, Hitzig, Ewald, Delitzsch, Cheyne,
take it to mean "Thou didst not set their prices high." Others, such
as Hupfeld, Baethgen, etc., adhere to the rendering, "Thou didst not
increase [Thy wealth] by their price." The general sense is clear, and
as bold as clear. It is almost sarcasm, directed against the Divine
dealings: little has He gained by letting His flock be devoured and
scattered. Hupfeld attaches to the bitter saying a deep meaning:
namely, that the "sale" did not take place "for the sake of profit
or other external worldly ends, as is the case with men, but from
higher disciplinary grounds of the Divine government--namely, simply
as punishment for their sins, for their improvement." Rather it may
indicate the dishonour accruing to the God, according to the ideas
of the old world, when His votaries were defeated; or it may be the
bitter reflection, "We can be of little worth in our Shepherd's eyes
when He parts with us so easily." If there is any hint of tarnish
adhering to the name of God by His people's defeat, the passage to the
second main idea of this part is the easier.

Defeat brings dishonour. The nearer nations, such as Edomites,
Ammonites, and other ancestral foes, are ready with their gibes. The
more distant peoples make a proverb out of the tragedy, and nod their
heads in triumph and scorn. The cowering creature, in the middle of
this ring of mockers, is covered with shame as he hears the babel of
heartless jests at his expense, and steals a glance at the fierce
faces round him.

It is difficult to find historical facts corresponding with this
picture. Even if the feature of selling into captivity is treated
as metaphor, the rest of the picture needs some pressure to be made
to fit the conditions of the Maccabean struggle, to which alone the
subsequent avowals of faithfulness to God as the cause of calamity
answer. For there were no such periods of disgraceful defeat and utter
devastation when once that heroic revolt had begun. The third part of
the psalm is in full accord with the religious consciousness of that
Indian summer of national glories; but it must be acknowledged that
the state of things described in this second part does not fit quite
smoothly into the hypothesis of a Maccabean date.

The third part (vv. 17-22) brings closely together professions of
righteousness, which sound strangely in Christian ears, and complaints
of suffering, and closes with the assertion that these two are cause and
effect. The sufferers are a nation of martyrs, and know themselves to be
so. This tone is remarkable when the nation is the speaker; for though
we find individuals asserting innocence and complaining of undeserved
afflictions in many psalms, a declaration of national conformity with
the Law is in sharp contradiction both to history and to the uniform
tone of prophets. This psalmist asserts not only national freedom from
idolatry, but adherence in heart and act to the Covenant. No period
before the exile was clear of the taint of idol worship and yet darkened
by calamity. We have no record of any events before the persecutions
that roused the Maccabean struggle which answer to the martyr cry of
ver. 22: "For Thy sake we are killed all the day." It may, indeed, be
questioned what is the relation in time of the two facts spoken of in
vv. 17-19. Which comes first, the calamity or the steadfastness? Does
the psalmist mean, "We are afflicted, and yet we are in affliction
true to God," or "We were true to God, and yet are afflicted"?
Probably the latter, as in the remainder of this part. "The place of
jackals" is apparently the field of defeat referred to in the second
part, where obscene creatures would gather to feast on the plundered
corpses. The Christian consciousness cannot appropriate the psalmist's
asseverations of innocence, and the difference between them and it
should not be slurred over. But, on the other hand, his words should
not be exaggerated into charges of injustice against God, nor claims
of absolute sinlessness. He does feel that present national distresses
have not the same origin as past ones had had. There has been no such
falling away as to account for them. But he does not arraign God's
government. He knows why the miseries have come, and that he and his
fellows are martyrs. He does not fling that fact down as an accusation
of Providence, but as the foundation of a prayer and as a plea for God's
help. The words may sound daring; still they are not blasphemy, but
supplication.

The fourth part is importunate prayer. Its frank anthropomorphisms of a
sleeping God, forgetting His people, surely need little defence. Sleep
withdraws from knowledge of and action on the external world, and hence
is attributed to God, when He allows evils to run unchecked. He is said
to "awake," or, with another figure, to "arise," as if starting from His
throned calm, when by some great act of judgment He smites flourishing
evil into nothingness. Injustice is surely done to these cries of
the _Ecclesia pressa_ when they are supposed to be in opposition to
the other psalmist's word: "He that keepeth Israel slumbers not, nor
sleeps." Some commentators call these closing petitions commonplace; and
so they are. Extreme need and agony of supplication have other things to
think of than originality, and so long as sorrows are so commonplace and
like each other, the cries of the sorrowful will be very much alike. God
is pleased with well-worn prayers, which have fitted many lips, and is
not so fastidious as some critics.




                               PSALM XLV.

   1  My heart seethes [with] goodly speech:
      I speak my work (poem) to a king:
      My tongue is the pen of a swift scribe.

   2  Thou art fair beyond the sons of men;
      Grace is poured on thy lips:
      Therefore God has blessed thee for ever.
   3  Gird thy sword on thy thigh, O hero,
      Thy splendour and thy majesty.
   4  [And [in] thy majesty] press forward, ride on,
      For the help of truth, and meekness-righteousness:
      And thy right hand shall teach thee awe-striking deeds.
   5  Thine arrows are keen--
      The peoples fall under thee--
      Into the heart of the enemies of the king.
   6  Thy throne, O God, is for ever and aye:
   7  A sceptre of uprightness is the sceptre of thy kingdom.
      Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest iniquity:
      Therefore God, thy God, has anointed thee
      With the oil of gladness above thy fellows.
   8  Myrrh and aloes [and] cassia [are] all thy robes;
      Out of palaces of ivory, stringed instruments make thee glad.
   9  Kings' daughters are among thy favourites:
      The consort stands at thy right hand in Ophir gold.

  10  Hearken, O daughter, and behold, and incline thine ear;
      And forget thy people, and thy father's house;
  11  So shall the king desire thy beauty:
      For he is thy lord; and bow thou down to him.
  12  And the daughter of Tyre [shall come] with a gift;
      The richest among the peoples shall seek thy favour.
  13  All glorious is the king's daughter in the inner palace:
      Of cloth of gold is her garment.
  14  In embroidered robes is she led to the king:
      Maidens behind her, her friends, are brought to thee.
  15  They are brought with gladness and exultation:
      They enter into the palace of the king.

  16  Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children:
      Thou wilt make them princes in all the earth.
  17  I will commemorate thy name through generation after generation:
      Therefore shall the peoples praise thee for ever and aye.


This is an epithalamion or ode on a king's marriage. The usual
bewildering variety of conjectures as to his identity meets us in
commentaries. The older opinion points to Solomon's marriage to an
Egyptian princess, to which it is objected that he was not a warrior
king, as the monarch of the psalm is. Hitzig regards "daughter of
Tyre," in ver. 12, as a vocative, and therefore looks for a king who
married a Tyrian woman. He is obliged to go to the northern kingdom
to find one, and pitches on Ahab, because Jezebel was the daughter
of "a king of the Zidonians," and Ahab had an "ivory house" (1 Kings
xxii. 39). It is hard to believe that that wedded pair of evil memory
are the originals of the lovely portraits in the psalm, or that a
psalmist would recognise the kingdom of Israel as divinely established
and to be eternally upheld. Besides, the construction of ver. 12, on
which this theory pivots, is doubtful, and the daughter of Tyre there
mentioned is more probably one of the bringers of gifts to the bride.
The attributes of the king and the promises for his descendants cannot
be extended, without incongruity, beyond the Davidic line. Hence
Delitzsch has selected Jehoram, the son of Jehoshaphat, principally
because his wife, Athaliah, was of Tyrian descent, being Jezebel's
daughter, and partly because his father had been a trader, which
accounts for the allusions to gold of Ophir and ivory. These are
slender grounds of identification, to say nothing of the miserable
contrast which Jehoram's reign--a dreary record of apostasy and
defeat, culminating in a tragic death and a dishonoured grave (2
Chron. xxi.)--would present to the psalm. Some commentators have
thought of the marriage of a Persian king, mainly because the peculiar
word for _consort_ in ver. 9 is employed for Persian queens (Neh.
ii. 6), and also because the Tyrians were tributary to Persia, and
because the sons of the king are to be "called princes in all lands,"
which reminds us of Persian satraps. Ewald finally fixed on Jeroboam
II. of Israel. Cheyne ("Orig. of Psalt.") finds the king of the psalm
in Ptolemy Philadelphus, the inspirer, as was believed, of the LXX.
translation, whom Josephus and Philo extol. Its author puts this
identification only as "tentative." Notwithstanding his anticipatory
protest against making Philadelphus' moral character an objection, he
feels that it is an objection; for he urges that its darker shades had
not yet disclosed themselves, and confesses that "a haze of illusion
encompassed our poet," who "overrated this Ptolemy, from taking too
external a view of the Messianic promise, and being flattered by a
Hellenic king's partiality for his people" (_u.s._, 172). Philadelphus
afterwards married his sister. His hands were red with blood. Was a
Jewish psalmist likely to take "up the singing robes of a court poet"
(_u.s._) in honour of a Ptolemy, or to transfer the promises to the
Davidic line to, and to speak of God as the God of, a foreign king? Or
how, if he did, came his song to find and keep a place in the Psalter?
All these conjectures show the hopelessness of identifying the person
intended addressed in the psalm. It is said that a knowledge of the
historical allusions in the Psalter is indispensable to enjoying it.
They would often be helpful if they could be settled, but that is no
reason for elevating conjecture to the place of knowledge.

One reason for the failure of attempts at identification is that the
language is a world too wide for the best and greatest of Jewish
kings. Much in the psalm applies to a historical occasion, the
marriage of some monarch; but there is much that as obviously goes
beyond it. Either, then, the psalm is hyperbole, outstripping even
poetical licence, or there appear in it characteristics of the ideal
monarch whom the psalmist knew to be promised to Israel. Every king of
Judah by descent and office was a living prophecy. The singer sees the
Messiah shining, as it were, through the shadowy form of the earthly
king, whose limitations and defects, no less than his excellences and
glories, pointed onwards to a greater than Solomon, in whom the "sure
mercies" promised to David should be facts at last.

The psalm has two main divisions, prefaced by a prelude (ver. 1), and
followed by prediction of happy issue of the marriage and enduring and
wide dominion. The two main parts are respectively addressed to the
royal bridegroom (vv. 2-9) and to the bride (vv. 10-15).

The singer lays claim to at least _poetic_ inspiration. His heart
is seething or boiling over with goodly words, or perhaps with the
joyful matter which occasions his song--namely, the royal nuptials. He
dedicates his "work" (like the original meaning of "poem"--a thing made)
to "a king," the absence of the definite article suggesting that the
office is more prominent than the person. He sings to a king; therefore
his strains must be lofty. So full is his heart that the swift words
pour out as the stylus of a rapid writer races over the parchment. The
previous musing has been long, the fire has burned slowly; but at last
all is molten, and rushes out, fluent because fervent.

The picture of the king begins with two features on which the
old-world ideal of a monarch laid stress--personal beauty and gracious
speech. This monarch is fairer than the sons of men. The note of
superhuman excellence is struck at the outset; and though the surface
reference is only to physical beauty, that is conceived of as the
indication of a fair nature which moulds the fair form.

          "For of the soul the body form doth take;
           For soul is form, and doth the body make."

The highest truth of this opening word is realised only in Him of whom
it was also said, in apparent contradiction, but real harmony with it,
"His visage was so marred more than any man, and His form more than
the sons of men." The craving for "whatsoever things are lovely," like
all other desires, has for its object Jesus Christ. Another kingly
excellence is sweet courtesy of speech. Possibly, indeed, the "grace
poured on the lips" may mean the gracious smile which moulds their
curves, but more likely it refers to the kindly speech that so well
become a mouth that can command. The sweetest examples of such words
are poor beside "the gracious words that proceeded out of His mouth."
The psalmist's ideal is that of a gentle king. Where else than in the
King whose sceptre was a reed, not an iron rod, has it been fulfilled?

          "Nor know we anything more fair
           Than is the smile upon Thy face."

From such characteristics the psalmist draws an inference--"therefore
God hath blessed thee for ever"; for that "therefore" does not
introduce the result of the preceding excellences, but the cause of
them. The psalmist knows that God has blessed the king because he sees
these beauties. They are the visible signs and tokens of the Divine
benediction. In its reference to Christ, the thought expressed is that
His superhuman beauty is to all men the proof of a unique operation of
God. Abiding divinity is witnessed by perfect humanity.

The scene changes with startling suddenness to the fury of battle.
In a burst of lyric enthusiasm, forgetting for a moment nuptials and
wedding marches, the singer calls on the king to array himself for war
and to rush on the foe. Very striking is this combination of gentleness
and warrior strength--a union which has been often realised in heroic
figures, which is needful for the highest type of either, and which is
fulfilled in the Lamb of God, who is the Lion of the tribe of Judah. The
king is to gird on his sword, and to array himself, as in glittering
armour, in his splendour and majesty, and, thus arrayed, to mount his
chariot, or, less probably, to bestride his war-horse, and hurl himself
on the yielding ranks of the enemy. "Press forward, drive (or _ride_)
on," crushing obstacles and forcing a path. But Israel's king could be
no vulgar conqueror, impelled by lust of dominion or "glory." His sword
is to be girt on for the help or "on behalf of truth, meekness, and
righteousness." These abstracts may be used for concretes--namely, the
possessors of the qualities named. But the limitation is not necessary.
The monarch's warfare is for the spread of these. The Hebrew binds
the two latter closely together by an anomalous construction, which
may be represented by connecting the two words with a hyphen. They
are regarded as a double star. Then follows a verse of hurry: "Thy
right hand shall teach thee awe-striking deeds." He has no allies.
The canvas has no room for soldiers. The picture is like the Assyrian
sculptures, in which the king stands erect and alone in his chariot, a
giant in comparison with the tiny figures beneath him. Like Rameses in
Pentaur's great battle-song, "he pierced the line of the foe; ... he
was all alone, no other with him." Then follow three abrupt clauses,
reflecting in their fragmentary character the stress of battle: "Thine
arrows are sharp--The peoples fall under thee--In the heart of the
enemies of the king." The bright arrow is on the string; it whizzes;
the plain is strewed with prostrate forms, the king's shaft in the
heart of each. It is no mere fanciful spiritualising which sees in this
picture an adumbration of the merciful warfare of Christ all through
the ages. We get to the kernel of the history of Israel when we regard
it as the preparation for Christ. We understand the _raison d'etre_ of
its monarchy when we see in these poor shadows the types of the King
of men, who was to be all that they should have been and were not. The
world-wide conflict for truth and meekness and righteousness is His
conflict, and the help which is done on earth He doeth it all Himself.
The psalm waits for its completion still, and will wait until the day
when the marriage supper of the Lamb is preceded by the last battle and
crowning victory of Him who "in righteousness doth judge and make war."

All the older versions take "God," in ver. 6 _a_, as a vocative,
while most moderns seek another construction or text. "The sum of the
matter is that the only natural rendering of the received text is that
of the Versions, 'Thy throne, O God'" (Cheyne, _in loc._). Three
renderings have been proposed, all of which are harsh. "Thy throne
is the throne of God," etc., is Ewald's suggestion, revived from a
Jewish expositor, and adopted widely by many recent commentators,
and in the margin of the R.V. It is clumsy, and leaves it doubtful
whether the stress of the assertion lies on the Divine appointment
or on the eternal duration of the throne. "Thy God's throne is,"
etc., is very questionable grammatically, and extremely harsh. The
only other suggested rendering, "Thy throne is God," etc., may fairly
be pronounced impossible. If the vocative construction is retained,
are we shut up to Cheyne's further opinion, that "the only natural
interpretation [is] that of the Targum, 'Thy throne, O Jehovah'"?
If so, we shall be obliged to admit textual corruption; for a
reference to the eternal duration of Jehovah's dominion is quite
out of place here, where the parallelism of the next clause demands
some characteristic of the king's throne corresponding to that of
his sceptre, there stated. But in Exod. xxi. 6, xxii. 8, and Psalm
lxxxii. 6, the name God (Elohim) is applied to rulers and judges, on
the ground, as our Lord puts it, in John x. 35, that "unto them the
word of God came"--_i.e._, that they were theocratic officers. The
designation, therefore, of the king as Elohim is not contrary to the
Hebrew line of thought. It does not predicate divinity, but Divine
preparation for and appointment to office. The recurrence of Elohim
(God) in its full Divine signification in the next verse is felt by
many to be an insuperable objection to recognising the lower sense
here. But the emphatic "thy God," which is appended to the name in
ver. 7, seems expressly intended to distinguish between the uses of
the word in the two verses. August, then, as the title is, it proves
nothing as to the divinity of the person addressed. We recognise
the prophetic character of the psalm, and strongly believe that it
points onwards to Christ the King. But we cannot take the ascription
of the title "O God" as having reference to His Divine nature. Such
a thought lay far beyond the prophetic horizon. The Old Testament
usage, which is appealed to in order to justify the translation of
the word "God" as a vocative, must govern its meaning. The careful
distinction drawn by the expressions of ver. 7, between the lower and
higher senses of the name, forbid the attempt to find here a premature
and anomalous statement of deep truth, for which the ages were not
ripe. While we, who know the full truth, may permissibly apply the
psalmist's words as its expression, we must not forget that in so
doing we are going beyond their real meaning. The controversies waged
over the construction of this verse have sometimes been embittered
by the supposition that it was a buttress for the truth of Christ's
Divine nature. But that is a mistake. The psalm goes no further than
to declare that the king is divinely endowed and appointed. It does
outline a character fairer than the sons of men, which requires
indwelling Deity for its realisation in humanity. But it does not
speak the decisive word, which alone could solve the mystery of its
requirement, by proclaiming the fact of incarnation.

The perpetuity of the king's throne is guaranteed, not only by his
theocratic appointment by God, but by the righteousness of his rule.
His sceptre is not a rod of iron, but "a sceptre of uprightness."
He is righteous in character as well as in official acts. He "loves
righteousness," and therefore cannot but "hate iniquity." His broad
shield shelters all who love and seek after righteousness, and he
wars against evil wherever it shows itself. Therefore his throne
stands firm, and is the world's hope. A singer who had grasped the
truth that power divorced from justice could not endure was far in
advance of his time. The nations have not yet learned his lesson. The
vast robber-kingdoms which seemed to give the lie to his faith have
confirmed it by their evanescence.

The king's love of righteousness leads to his being "anointed with
the oil of gladness above his fellows." This anointing is not that of
a coronation, but that of a feast. His "fellows" may either be other
kings or his attendant companions at his marriage. The psalmist looks
as deep into individual life as he has just done into politics, and
ascribes to righteousness lofty powers in that region too. The heart
which loves it will be joyful, whatever befalls. Conformity to the
highest ideal known to a man, or, at all events, hearty love thereof,
leading to efforts after it, is the surest foundation for lasting and
deep joy. Since Christ is the fulfilment of the psalmist's picture,
and perfectly realised the perfection of manhood, the psalmist's words
here are most fully applicable to Him.

True, He was "a man of sorrows," but beneath His sorrow had abiding
and central joy, which He bequeathed to us, with the assurance that
to possess it would make our joy full. His pure manhood was ever in
touch with God, and lived in conscious righteousness, and therefore
there was ever light within, though there was darkness around. He, the
saddest, was likewise the gladdest of men, and "anointed with the oil
of joy above His fellows."

In ver. 8 the Psalm reaches its main theme--the marriage of the king.
The previous verses have painted his grace of person, his heroic deeds
in battle, and his righteous rule. Now he stands ready to pass into the
palace to meet his bride. His festival robes are so redolent of perfumes
that they seem to be composed of nothing but woven fragrance. There are
difficulties in the rendering of ver. 8 _a_, but that adopted above
is generally accepted as the most probable. The clause then describes
the burst of jubilant music which welcomed and rejoiced the king as he
approached the "palaces of ivory," where his bride waited his coming.

Ver. 9 carries the king into his harem. The inferior wives are
of royal blood, but nearest him and superior to these is the
queen-consort glittering with golden ornaments. This feature of
the psalmist's description can only have reference to the actual
historical occasion of the psalm, and warns against overlooking that
in seeking a prophetic reference to the Christ in every particular.

The second half of the psalm is an address to the bride and a
description of her beauty and state. The singer assumes a fatherly
tone, speaking to her as "daughter." She is a foreigner by birth,
and is called upon to give up all her former associations, with
whole-hearted consecration to her new duties. It is difficult to
imagine Jezebel or Athaliah as the recipient of these counsels, nor
does it seem to the present writer to add anything to the enjoyment
of the psalm that the person to whom they were addressed should be
identified. The exhortation to give up all for love's sake goes to
the heart of the sacred relation of husband and wife, and witnesses
to the lofty ideal of that relation which prevailed in Israel, even
though polygamy was not forbidden. The sweet necessity of wedded love
subordinates all other love, as a deeper well, when sunk, draws the
surface waters and shallower springs into itself.

                          "The rich, golden shaft
          Hath killed the flock of all affections else
          That live in her."

The king sung of in the psalm was a type of Christ. Every true
marriage is in the same fashion a type of the union of the soul with
Jesus, the lover of all, the bridegroom of humanity. So it is not
arbitrary spiritualising, but recognition of the nobleness of the
lower love and of its essential similarity with the highest, when the
counsel to this bride is regarded as shadowing the duties of the soul
wedded to Christ. If a heart is really influenced by love to Him,
that love will make self-surrender blessed. A child gladly drops toys
when it stretches out its little hand for better gifts. If we are
joined to Jesus, we shall not be unwilling to "count all things but
loss for the excellency of the knowledge" of Him. Have the terms of
wedded life changed since this psalm was written? Have the terms of
Christian living altered since it was said, "Whosoever he be of you
that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be My disciple"? The
law still remains, "Daughter, forget thine own people and Thy father's
house." The exhortation is followed by a promise: "So shall the king
desire thy beauty." The application of these words to the relations
of Christ and His people carries with it a striking thought that He
is affected by the completeness of our self-surrender and dependence.
He pours love on the unworthy, but that is a different thing from
the love with which He responds to such abandonment of self and other
loves. Holy, noble living will bring a smile into His face and draw
Him nearer to us.

But whilst there is all this sweet commerce of love and giving, the
bride is reminded that the king is her lord, and is to be reverenced
as well as loved. There is here, no doubt, the influence of an archaic
mode of regarding marriage and the wife's position. But it still is
true that no woman finds all that her heart needs in her husband,
unless she can bring her reverence where she has brought her love;
and that love will not long remain if reverence departs. Nor is the
warning less needed in the higher region of the wedlock of the soul
with the Saviour. Some types of emotional religion have more to say
about love than about obedience. They are full of half-wholesome
apostrophes to a "dear Lord," and are apt to forget the last word in
the emphasis which they put on the first. The beggar-maid married to a
king was full of reverence as well as love; and the souls whom Jesus
stoops to love and wash and wed are never to forget to blend adoration
with approach and obedience with love.

A picture of the reflected honour and influence of the bride follows
in ver. 12. When she stands by the king's side, those around recognise
her dignity, and seek to secure her favour. Hupfeld, Hitzig, and
others take "daughter of Tyre" to be a vocative, addressed to the
bride, who is, according to their view, a Tyrian princess. But
there is a strong grammatical objection to that construction in the
copula ("and") prefixed to "daughter," which is never so prefixed
to a vocative unless preceded by another vocative. Delitzsch,
Baethgen, Perowne, and Cheyne agree in recognising the force of
that consideration, and the three former regard the phrase not as a
vocative, but as a nominative. It is a personification of the Tyrians
according to a familiar idiom. The clause is elliptical, and has to
be supplemented by supposing that the same verb, which appears in the
next clause in the plural, is to be supplied in thought, just as that
clause requires the supplement of "with a gift" from this one. There
appears to be some flaw in the text, as the clauses are unsymmetrical,
and possibly the punctuators have marked a hiatus by the sign (Pasek)
after the word "daughter of Tyre." To "seek thy favour" is literally
to "smooth thy face"--a graphic representation. In the highest region,
which we regard the psalm as adumbrating, the words have fulfilment.
The bride standing by her bridegroom, and showing her love and
devotion by self-abandonment and reverence, will be glorious in the
eyes of those around. They who manifestly live in loving communion
with their Lord will be recognised for what they are, and, though
sometimes hated therefor, will also be honoured. When the Church has
cast all but Christ out of its heart, it will conquer the world. "The
sons of them that afflicted thee shall come bending unto thee."

In vv. 13-15 the bride's apparel and nuptial procession are described.
She is "all glorious within,"--by which is not meant, as ordinarily
supposed, that she possesses an inner beauty of soul, but that the
poet conceives of her as standing in the inner chamber, where she
has been arrayed in her splendour. Krochmal, followed by Graetz
and Cheyne, changes the text so as to read _corals_, or, as Cheyne
renders, _pearls_ (Heb. _p'ninim_), for _within_ (_p'ninah_), and
thus preserves unity of subject in the verse by removing the local
designation. But the existing reading is intelligible. In ver. 14
the marriage procession is described. The words rendered "embroidered
robes" are by some taken to mean "tapestry of divers colours"
(Perowne), or richly woven carpets spread for the bride to walk on,
and by others (Hitzig, Riehm) gay- cushions, to which she is
led in order to sit beside the bridegroom. But the word means apparel
elsewhere, and either of the other meanings introduces an irrelevant
detail of another kind into the picture. The analogy of other
Scripture metaphors leads at once to interpreting the bride's attire
as symbolic of the purity of character belonging to the Church. The
Apocalypse dresses "the Lamb's wife" in "fine linen, clean and white."
The psalm arrays her in garments gleaming with gold, which symbolise
splendour and glory, and in embroidered robes, which suggest the
patient use of the slow needle, and the variegated harmony of colour
attained at last. There is no marriage between Christ and the soul,
unless it is robed in the beauty of righteousness and manifold graces
of character. In other places we read that the bride "made _herself_
ready," and also that "to her was _granted_ that she should be arrayed
in fine linen, clean and white," in which sayings are set forth the
double sources of such a garment of the soul. It is a gift from above.
It is "put on" by continual effort, based on faith. The picture of the
home-coming of the bride follows. She is attended by her maidens, and
with them she passes into the palace amid joys and exultation. The
psalm stops at the threshold. It is not for the singer to draw back
the curtains and let in the day. "The door was shut." The presence of
virgin companions waiting on the bride no more interferes with the
application of the psalm to Christ and His Church than the similar
representation brings confusion into our Lord's parable of the Ten
Virgins. Parables and symbols are elastic, and often duplicate their
representations of the same thing; and such is the case here.

The closing verses are addressed, not to the bride, but to the king,
and can only in a very modified way and partially be supposed to pass
beyond the Jewish monarch and refer to the true King. Hopes that he
might be blessed with fortunate issue of the marriage were quite
in place in an epithalamion, and the delicacy of the light touch
with which this closing note is struck is noteworthy, especially in
contrast with the tone of many famous secular songs of similar import.
But much straining is needed to extract a spiritual sense from the
words. Perowne truly says that it is "wiser to acknowledge at once
the mixed character" of the psalm, and he quotes a sagacious saying
of Calvin's to the effect that it is not necessary that every detail
should be carefully fitted to Christ. The psalm had a historical
basis; and it has also a prophetic meaning, because the king of Israel
was himself a type, and Jesus Christ is the fulfilment of the ideal
never realised by its successive occupants. Both views of its nature
must be kept in view in its interpretation; and it need cause no
surprise if, at some points, the rind of prose fact is, so to speak,
thicker than at others, or if certain features absolutely refuse to
lend themselves to the spiritual interpretation.




                              PSALM XLVI.

   1  God is a refuge and stronghold for us,
      A help in troubles most readily to be found.
   2  Therefore we will not fear, though the earth do change,
      And the mountains reel into the heart of the sea.
   3  Let its waters roar and foam;
      Let mountains shake at its pride. Selah.
      [Jehovah of hosts is with us;
      A high tower for us is Jacob's God.]

   4  [There is] a river--its branches make glad the city of God
      The sanctuary of the tabernacles of the Most High.
   5  God is in her midst; she shall not be moved:
      God shall help her at the morning dawn.
   6  Nations roared, kingdoms were moved:
      He gave forth His voice, the earth melts.
   7  Jehovah of hosts is with us;
      A high tower for us is Jacob's God. Selah.

   8  Come, behold the deeds of Jehovah,
      Who has made desolations in the earth.
   9  Quelling wars to the end of the earth:
      The bow He breaks, and hews the spear in splinters;
      The chariots He burns in the fire.
  10  "Desist, and know that I am God:
      I will be exalted in the nations, I will be exalted in the earth."
  11  Jehovah of hosts is with us;
      A high tower for us is Jacob's God. Selah.


There are two events, one or other of which probably supplies the
historical basis of this and the two following psalms. One is
Jehoshaphat's deliverance from the combined forces of the bordering
nations (2 Chron. xx.). Delitzsch adopts this as the occasion of
the psalm. But the other more usually accepted reference to the
destruction of Sennacherib's army is more probable. Psalms xlvi. and
xlviii. have remarkable parallelisms with Isaiah. The noble contrast
of the quiet river which makes glad the city of God with a tossing,
earth-shaking sea resembles the prophet's threatening that the
effect of refusing the "waters of Shiloah which go softly" would be
inundation by the strong and mighty river, the Assyrian power. And the
emblem is expanded in the striking language of Isa. xxxiii. 21: "The
glorious Lord will be unto us a place of broad rivers and streams;
wherein shall go no galley with oars." Encircled by the flashing
links of that broad moat, Jerusalem sits secure. Again, the central
thought of the refrain in the psalm, "The Lord of hosts is with us,"
is closely allied to the symbolic name which Isaiah gave as a pledge
of deliverance, "Immanuel, God with us."

The structure is simple. The three strophes into which the psalm
falls set forth substantially the same thought, that God's presence
is safety and peace, whatever storms may roar. This general theme
is exhibited in the first strophe (vv. 1-3) in reference to natural
convulsions; in the second (vv. 4-7) in reference to the rage of
hostile kingdoms; and in the third (vv. 8-11) men are summoned to
behold a recent example of God's delivering might, which establishes
the truth of the preceding utterances and has occasioned the psalm.
The grand refrain which closes the second and third strophes should
probably be restored at the end of ver. 3.

In the first strophe the psalmist paints chaos come again, by the
familiar figures of a changed earth, tottering mountains sinking in
the raging sea from which they rose at creation, and a wild ocean
with thunderous dash appalling the ear and yeasty foam terrifying
the eye, sweeping in triumphant insolence over all the fair earth.
It is prosaic to insist on an allegorical meaning for the picture.
It is rather a vivid sketch of utter confusion, dashed in with three
or four bold strokes, an impossible case supposed in order to bring
out the unshaken calm of those who have God for ark in such a deluge.
He is not only a sure refuge and stronghold, but one easy of access
when troubles come. There is little good in a fortress, however
impregnable, if it is so difficult to reach that a fugitive might be
slain a hundred times before he was safe in it. But this high tower,
which no foe can scale, can be climbed at a thought, and a wish lifts
us within its mighty walls. The psalmist speaks a deep truth, verified
in the spiritual life of all ages, when he celebrates the refuge of
the devout soul as "most readily to be found."

As the text stands, this strophe is a verse too short, and ver.
3 drags if connected with "will not we fear." The restoration of
the refrain removes the anomaly in the length of the strophe, and
enables us to detach ver. 3 from the preceding. Its sense is then
completed, if we regard it as the protasis of a sentence of which
the refrain is the apodosis, or if, with Cheyne and others, we take
ver. 3, "Let its waters roar," etc.--what of that? "Jehovah of hosts
is with us." If the strophe is thus completed, it conforms to the
other two, in each of which may be traced a division into two pairs
of verses. These two verse-pairs of the first strophe would then be
inverted parallelism,--the former putting security in God first, and
surrounding trouble second, the latter dealing with the same two
subjects, but in reversed sequence.

The second strophe brings a new picture to view with impressive
suddenness, which is even more vividly dramatic if the refrain is not
supplied. Right against the vision of confusion comes one of peace.
The abrupt introduction of "a river" as an isolated noun, which
dislocates grammatical structure, is almost an exclamation. "There
is a river" enfeebles the swing of the original. We might almost
translate, "Lo! a river!" Jerusalem was unique among historical cities
in that it had no great river. It had one tiny thread of water, of
which perhaps the psalmist is thinking. But whether there is here the
same contrast between Siloam's gentle flow and the surging waters of
hostile powers as Isaiah sets forth in the passage already referred
to (Isa. viii. 6), the meaning of this gladdening stream is the
ever-flowing communication of God Himself in His grace. The stream is
the fountain in flow. In the former strophe we hear the roar of the
troubled waters, and see the firm hills toppling into their depths.
Now we behold the gentle flow of the river, gliding through the city,
with music in its ripples and sunshine in its flash and refreshment
in its waters, parting into many arms and yet one in diversity, and
bringing life and gladness wherever it comes. Not with noise nor
tumult, but in silent communication, God's grace and peace refresh the
soul. Power is loud, but Omnipotence is silent. The roar of all the
billows is weak when compared with the quiet sliding onwards of that
still stream. It has its divisions. As in old days each man's bit of
garden was irrigated by a branch led from the stream, so in endless
diversity, corresponding to the infinite greatness of the source and
the innumerable variety of men's needs, God's grace comes. "All these
worketh that one and the selfsame Spirit, dividing to every man
severally." The streams gladden the city of God with the gladness of
satisfied thirsts, with the gladness which comes from the contact of
the human spirit with Divine completeness. So supplied, the city may
laugh at besiegers. It has unfailing supplies within itself, and the
enemy may cut off all surface streams, but its "water shall be sure."

Substantially the same thought is next stated in plain words: "God is
in the midst of her." And therefore two things follow. One is unshaken
stability, and another is help at the right time--"at the turn of the
morning." "The Lord is in the midst of her"--that is a perennial fact.
"The Lord shall help her"--that is the "grace for seasonable help."
He, not we, determines when the night shall thin away its blackness
into morning twilight. But we may be sure that the presence which is
the pledge of stability and calm even in storm and darkness will flash
into energy of help at the moment when He wills. The same expression
is used to mark the time of His looking from the pillar of cloud and
troubling the Egyptians, and there may be an allusion to that standing
instance of His help here. "It is not for you to know the times and the
seasons"; but this we may know--that the Lord of all times will always
help at the right time; He will not come so quickly as to anticipate our
consciousness of need, nor delay so long as to let us be irrevocably
engulfed in the bog. "Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus.
When He heard _therefore_ that he was sick, He abode two days still in
the same place where He was." Yet He came in time.

With what vigour the short, crashing clauses of ver. 6 describe the
wrath and turbulence of the nations, and the instantaneous dissolving
of their strength into weakness at a word from those awful lips!
The verse may be taken as hypothetical or as historical. In either
case we see the sequence of events as by a succession of lightning
flashes. The hurry of the style, marked by the omission of connecting
particles, reflects the swiftness of incident, like _Veni, vidi,
vici_. The utterance of God's will conquers all. At the sound of that
voice stillness and a pause of dread fall on the "roar" (same word as
in ver. 3) of the nations, like the hush in the woods when thunder
rolls. He speaks, and all meaner sounds cease. "The lion hath roared,
who shall not fear?" No material vehicle is needed. To every believer
in God there is an incomprehensible action of the Divine Will on
material things; and no explanations bridge the gulf recognised in the
psalmist's broken utterances, which declare sequence and not mode of
operation: "He uttered His voice, the earth melted."

Again the triumph of the refrain peals forth, with its musical
accompaniment prolonging the impression. In it the psalmist gives
voice, for himself and his fellows, to their making their own of the
general truths which the psalm has been declaring. The two names of
God set forth a twofold ground for confidence. "Jehovah of hosts" is
all the more emphatic here since the Second Book of the Psalter is
usually Elohistic. It proclaims God's eternal, self-existent Being,
and His covenant relation, as well as His absolute authority over the
ranked forces of the universe, personal or impersonal, spiritual or
material. The Lord of all these legions is with us. When we say "The
God of Jacob," we reach back into the past and lay hold of the Helper
of the men of old as ours. What He has been, He is; what He did, He
is doing still. The river is full to-day, though the van of the army
did long ago drink and were satisfied. The bright waters are still as
pellucid and abundant as then, and the last of the rear-guard will
find them the same.

The third strophe summons to contemplate with fixed attention the
"desolations" made by some great manifestation of God's delivering
power. It is presupposed that these are still visible. Broken bows,
splintered spears, half-charred chariots, strew the ground, and Israel
can go forth without fear and feast their eyes on these tokens of
what God has done for them. The language is naturally applied to the
relics of Sennacherib's annihilated force. In any case it points to a
recent act of God's, the glad surprise of which palpitates all through
the psalm. The field of history is littered with broken, abandoned
weapons, once flourished in hands long since turned to dust; and the
city and throne of God against which they were lifted remain unharmed.
The voice which melted the earth speaks at the close of the psalm;
not now with destructive energy, but in warning, through which tones
of tenderness can be caught. God desires that foes would cease their
vain strife before it proves fatal. "Desist" is here an elliptical
expression, of which the full form is "Let your hands drop"; or, as
we say, "Ground your weapons," and learn how vain is a contest with
Him who is God, and whose fixed purpose is that all nations shall
know and exalt Him. The prospect hinted at in the last words, of a
world submissive to its King, softens the terrors of His destructive
manifestations, reveals their inmost purpose, and opens to foes the
possibility of passing, not as conquerors, but as subjects, and
therefore fellow-citizens, through the gate into the city.




                              PSALM XLVII.

  1  All ye peoples, clap [your] hands;
     Shout to God with joyful cry.
  2  For Jehovah is most High [and] dread,
     A great King over all the earth.
  3  He subdues peoples under us,
     And nations under our feet,
  4  He chooses for us our inheritance,
     The pride of Jacob whom He loved. Selah.

  5  God is gone up with a shout,
     Jehovah with trumpet clang.
  6  Sing with the harp to God, sing with the harp:
     Sing with the harp to our King, sing with the harp.
  7  For King of all the earth is God:
     Sing with the harp a skilful song.
  8  God has become King over the nations:
     He has taken His seat on His holy throne.

  9  The princes of the peoples gather themselves together
     [As] a people of the God of Abraham:
     For to God belong the shields of the earth;
     Greatly has He exalted Himself.


The closing thought of Psalm xlvi. is nobly expanded in this jubilant
summons to all nations to praise Jehovah as their King. Both psalms have
a similar, and probably the same, historical basis: a Divine act so
recent that the tumult of triumph has not yet subsided, and the waves of
joy still run high. Only in Psalm xlvi. the effect of that God-wrought
deliverance is principally regarded as the security and peace of Israel,
and in this psalm as the drawing of the nations to obey Israel's King,
and so to join the chorus of Israel's praise. While the psalm has many
resemblances to the Songs of the King (Psalm xciii. _seqq._), it is
clearly in its right place here, as forming with the preceding and
succeeding psalms a trilogy, occasioned by one great manifestation of
God's care for the nation. No event is more appropriate than the usually
accepted destruction of Sennacherib's army. The psalm has little of
complexity in structure or thought. It is a gush of pure rapture. It
rises to prophetic foresight, and, by reason of a comparatively small
historical occasion, has a vision of the world-wide expansion of the
kingdom of God. It falls into two strophes of four verses each, with one
longer verse appended to the latter.

In the first strophe the nations are invited to welcome God as their
King, not only because of His Divine exaltation and world-wide
dominion, but also because of His deeds for "Jacob." The same
Divine act which in Psalm xlvi. is represented as quelling wars
and melting the earth, and in Psalm xlviii. as bringing dismay,
pain, and flight, is here contemplated as attracting the nations
to worship. The psalmist knows that destructive providences have
their gracious aspect, and that God's true victory over men is not
won when opposition is crushed and hearts made to quake, but when
recognition of His sway and joy in it swell the heart. The quick
clatter of clapping hands in sign of homage to the King (2 Kings xi.
12) blends with the shrill cries with which Easterns express joy, in
"a tumult of acclaim." Hupfeld thinks that to suppose the heathen
called upon to do homage because of the victory for Israel won over
them is entirely mistaken. But unless that victory is the reason for
the summons, the psalm offers none; and it is surely not difficult
to suppose that the exhibition of God's power leads to reflection
which issues in recognition of His sovereignty. Vv. 3, 4, seem to
state the grounds for the summons in ver. 1. The tenses in these
verses present a difficulty in the way of taking them for a historical
retrospect of the conquest and partition of Canaan, which but for
that objection would be the natural interpretation. It is possible
to take them as "a truth of experience inferred from what had just
been witnessed, the historical fact being expressed not in historical
form, but generalised and idealised" (Delitzsch, _in loc._). The
just accomplished deliverance repeated in essence the wonders of the
first entrance on possession of the land, and revealed the continuous
working of the same Divine hand, ever renewing the choice of Jacob's
inheritance, and ever scattering its enemies. "The pride of Jacob"
is a phrase in apposition with "our inheritance." The Holy Land was
the object of "pride" to "Jacob," not in an evil sense but in that he
boasted of it as a precious treasure intrusted to him by God. The root
fact of all God's ancient and continued blessings is that He "loved."
His own heart, not Jacob's deserts, prompted His mercies.

The second strophe is distinguished from the first by the increased
fervour of its calls to praise, by its still more exultant rush, and
by its omission of reference to Jacob. It is wholly concerned with the
peoples whom it invites to take up the song. As in the former strophe
the singer showed to the peoples God working in the world, here he bids
them look up and see Him ascending on high. "Now that He ascended,
what is it but that He also descended first?" The mighty deliverance
of which the triumph throbs through this trilogy of paeans of victory
was God's coming down. Now He has gone back to His throne and seated
Himself thereon, not as having ceased to work in the world--for He is
still King over it all--but as having completed a delivering work.
He does not withdraw when He goes up. He does not cease to work here
below when He sits throned in His palace-temple above. The "shout" and
"voice of a trumpet," which accompany that ascent, are borrowed from the
ordinary attendants on a triumphal procession. He soars as in a chariot
of praises,--from whose lips the psalm does not say, but probably it
intends Israel to be understood as the singer. To that choir the nations
are called to join their voices and harps, since God is their King too,
and not Jacob's only. The word rendered in the A.V. and R.V. (text)
"with understanding" is a noun, the name of a description of psalm,
which occurs in several psalm titles, and is best understood as "a
skilful song." Ver. 8 gathers up the reasons for the peoples' homage to
God. He has "become King" over them by His recent act, having manifested
and established His dominion; and He has now "sat down on His throne,"
as having accomplished His purpose, and as thence administering the
world's affairs.

A final verse, of double the length of the others, stands somewhat
apart from the preceding strophe both in rhythm and in thought. It
crowns the whole. The invitations to the nations are conceived of as
having been welcomed and obeyed. And there rises before the poet's
eye a fair picture of a great convocation, such as might wait before
a world-ruling monarch's throne on the day of his coronation. The
princes of the nations, like tributary kings, come flocking to do
homage, "as if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by."

The obliteration of distinction between Israel and the nations, by the
incorporation of the latter, so that "the peoples" become part of the
"people of the God of Abraham," floats before the singer's prophetic
eye, as the end of God's great manifestation of Himself. The two parts
of that double choir, which the preceding strophes summon to song,
coalesce at last, and in grand unison send up one full-throated,
universal melodious shout of praise. "The shields of the earth" are
best understood as a figurative expression for the princes just spoken
of, who now at last recognise to whom they belong. Thus God has
exalted Himself by His deeds; and the result of these deeds is that He
is greatly exalted by the praise of a world, in which Israel and the
"peoples" dwell as one beneath His sceptre and celebrate His name.

The psalmist looked far ahead. His immediate experience was as "a
little window through which he saw great matters." The prophecy of
the universal spread of God's kingdom and the inclusion in it of the
Gentiles is Messianic; and whether the singer knew that he spoke
of a fair hope which should not be a fact for weary centuries, or
anticipated wider and permanent results from that triumph which
inspired his song, he spake of the Christ, and his strains are true
prophecies of His dominion. There is no intentional reference in the
psalm to the Ascension; but the thoughts underlying its picture of
God's going up with a shout are the same which that Ascension sets
forth as facts,--the merciful coming down into humanity of the Divine
Helper; the completeness of His victory as attested by His return
thither where He was before; His session in heaven, not as idle nor
wearied, but as having done what He meant to do; His continuous
working as King in the world; and the widening recognition of His
authority by loving hearts. The psalmist summons us all to swell with
our voices that great chorus of praise which, like a sea, rolls and
breaks in music round His royal seat.




                             PSALM XLVIII.

   1  Great is Jehovah, and much to be praised,
      In the city of our God, His holy mountain.
   2  Lovely in loftiness, a joy of all the earth,
      Is Mount Zion, the recesses of the north, the city of the great
                King.

   3  God in her palaces
      Has made Himself known as a high tower.
   4  For, lo, the kings assembled themselves,
      They marched onwards together.
   5  They saw, then they were amazed;
      They were terror-struck, they fled.
   6  Trembling seized them there;
      Pain, as [of] a woman in travail.
   7  With an east wind
      Thou breakest the ships of Tarshish.
   8  According as we have heard, so have we seen
      In the city of Jehovah of hosts, in the city of our God:
      God will establish her for ever. Selah.

   9  We have thought, O God, of Thy loving-kindness
      In the midst of Thy Temple.
  10  According to Thy name, O God,
      So is Thy praise to the ends of the earth:
      Thy right hand is full of righteousness.
  11  Let Mount Zion rejoice,
      Let the daughters of Judah exult,
      Because of Thy judgments.
  12  Compass Zion, and walk round her:
      Reckon her towers.
  13  Give heed to her bulwark,
      Pass through her palaces;
      That ye may tell it to the generation after.
  14  That such is God, our God:
      For ever and aye He will guide us.
            Al-Muth.


The situation seems the same as in Psalm xlvi., with which this psalm
has many points of contact. In both we have the same triumph, the same
proud affection for the holy city and sanctuary, the same confidence
in God's dwelling there, the same vivid picturing of the mustering of
enemies and their rapid dispersion, the same swift movement of style
in describing that overthrow, the same thought of the diffusion of
God's praise in the world as its consequence, the same closing summons
to look upon the tokens of deliverance, with the difference that, in
the former psalm, these are the shattered weapons of the defeated foe,
and in this the unharmed battlements and palaces of the delivered
city. The emphatic word of the refrain in Psalm xlvi. also reappears
here in ver. 3. The psalm falls into three parts, of which the first
(vv. 1, 2) is introductory, celebrating the glory of Zion as the city
of God; the second (vv. 3-8) recounts in glowing words the deliverance
of Zion; and the third tells of the consequent praise and trust of the
inhabitants of Zion (vv. 9-14).

The general sense of the first part is plain, but ver. 2 is difficult.
"Mount Zion" is obviously subject, and "lovely in loftiness" and "joy
of all the earth" predicates; but the grammatical connection of the
two last clauses is obscure. Further, the meaning of "the sides of
the north" has not been satisfactorily ascertained. The supposition
that there is an allusion in the phrase to the mythological mountain
of the gods, with which Zion is compared, is surely most unnatural.
Would a Hebrew psalmist be likely to introduce such a parallel, even
in order to assert the superiority of Zion? Nor is the grammatical
objection to the supposition less serious. It requires a good deal
of stretching and inserting to twist the two words "the sides of
the north" into a comparison. It is more probable that the clause
is topographical, describing some part of the city, but what part
is far from clear. The accents make all the verse after "earth" the
subject of the two preceding predicates, and place a minor division
at "north," implying that "the sides of the north" is more closely
connected with "Mount Zion" than with the "city of the great King," or
than that last clause is.

Following these indications, Stier renders "Mount Zion [and] the
northern side (_i.e._, the lower city, on the north of Zion), which
together make the city," etc. Others see here "the Holy City regarded
from three points of view"--viz., "the Mount Zion" (the city of
David), "the sides of the north" (Mount Moriah and the Temple), "the
city of the great King" (Jerusalem proper). So Perowne and others.
Delitzsch takes Zion to be the Temple hill, and "the sides of the
north" to be in apposition. "The Temple hill or Zion, in the narrower
sense, actually formed the north-eastern corner of ancient Jerusalem,"
says he, and thus regards the subject of the whole sentence as really
twofold, not threefold, as appears at first--Zion on the north, which
is the palace-temple, and Jerusalem at its feet, which is "the city of
the great King." But it must be admitted that no interpretation runs
quite smoothly, though the summary ejection of the troublesome words
"the sides of the north" from the text is too violent a remedy.

But the main thought of this first part is independent of such minute
difficulties. It is that the one thing which made Zion-Jerusalem
glorious was God's presence in it. It was beautiful in its elevation;
it was safely isolated from invaders by precipitous ravines, inclosing
the angle of the plateau on which it stood. But it was because God
dwelt there and manifested Himself there that it was "a joy for all
the earth." The name by which even the earthly Zion is called is
"Jehovah-Shammah, The Lord is there." We are not forcing New Testament
ideas into Old Testament words when we see in the psalm an eternal
truth. An idea is one thing; the fact which more or less perfectly
embodies it is another. The idea of God's dwelling with men had its less
perfect embodiment in the presence of the Shechinah in the Temple, its
more perfect in the dwelling of God in the Church, and will have its
complete when the city "having the glory of God" shall appear, and He
will dwell with men and be their God. God in her, not anything of her
own, makes Zion lovely and gladdening. "Thy beauty was perfect through
My comeliness which I had put upon thee, saith the Lord."

The second part pictures Zion's deliverance with picturesque vigour
(vv. 3-8). Ver. 3 sums up the whole as the act of God, by which He has
made Himself known as that which the refrain of Psalm xlvi. declared
Him to be--a refuge, or, literally, a high tower. Then follows the
muster of the hosts. "The kings were assembled." That phrase need
not be called exaggeration, nor throw doubt on the reference to
Sennacherib's army, if we remember the policy of Eastern conquerors in
raising their armies from their conquests, and the boast which Isaiah
puts into the mouth of the Assyrian: "Are not my princes altogether
kings?" They advance against the city. "They saw,"--no need to say
what. Immediately they "were amazed." The sight of the city broke on
them from some hill-crest on their march. Basilisk-like, its beauty
was paralysing, and shot a nameless awe into their hearts. "They were
terror-struck; they fled." As in Psalm xlvi. 6, the clauses, piled up
without cement of connecting particles, convey an impression of hurry,
culminating in the rush of panic-struck fugitives. As has been often
noticed, they recall Caesar's _Veni, vidi, vici_; but these kings came,
saw, _were_ conquered. No cause for the rout is named. No weapons were
drawn in the city. An unseen hand "smites once, and smites no more";
for once is enough. The process of deliverance is not told; for a
hymn of victory is not a chronicle. One image explains it all, and
signalises the Divine breath as the sole agent. "Thou breakest the
ships of Tarshish with an east wind" is not history, but metaphor. The
unwieldy, huge vessel, however strong for fight, is unfit for storms,
and, caught in a gale, rolls heavily in the trough of the sea, and is
driven on a lee shore and ground to pieces on its rocks. "God blew
upon them, and they were scattered," as the medal struck on the defeat
of the Armada had it. In the companion psalm God's uttered voice did
all. Here the breath of the tempest, which is the breath of His lips,
is the sole agent.

The past, of which the nation had heard from its fathers, lives again
in their own history; and that verification of traditional belief by
experience is to a devout soul the chief blessing of its deliverances.
There is rapture in the thought that "As we have heard, so have we
seen." The present ever seems commonplace. The sky is farthest from
earth right overhead, but touches the ground on the horizon behind
and before. Miracles were in the past; God will be manifestly in the
far-off future, but the present is apt to seem empty of Him. But if
we rightly mark His dealings with us, we shall learn that nothing in
His past has so passed that it is not present. As the companion psalm
says, "The God of Jacob is _our_ refuge," this exclaims, "As we have
heard, so have we seen."

But not only does the deliverance link the present with the past, but
it flings a steady light into the future. "God shall establish her for
ever." The city is truly "the eternal city," because God dwells in it.
The psalmist was thinking of the duration of the actual Jerusalem, the
imperfect embodiment of a great idea. But whatever may be its fate,
the heart of his confidence is no false vision; for God's city will
outlast the world. Like the "maiden fortresses," of which there is
one in almost every land, fondly believed never to have been taken by
enemies, that city is inexpugnable, and the confident answer to every
threatening assailant is, "The virgin, the daughter of Zion, hath
despised thee, and laughed thee to scorn; the daughter of Jerusalem
hath shaken her head at thee." "God will establish her for ever." The
pledges of that stability are the deliverances of the past and present.

The third part (vv. 9-14) deals with the praise and trust of the
inhabitants of Zion. Deliverance leads to thankful meditation on the
loving-kindness which it so signally displayed, and the ransomed
people first gather in the Temple, which was the scene of God's
manifestation of His grace, and therefore is the fitting place for
them to ponder it. The world-wide consequences of the great act of
loving-kindness almost shut out of sight for the moment its bearing
on the worshippers. It is a lofty height to which the song climbs,
when it regards national deliverance chiefly as an occasion for wider
diffusion of God's praise. His "name" is the manifestation of His
character in act. The psalmist is sure that wherever that character is
declared praise will follow, because he is sure that that character
is perfectly and purely good, and that God cannot act but in such
a way as to magnify Himself. That great sea will cast up nothing
but pearls. The words carry also a lesson for recipients of Divine
loving-kindness, teaching them that they misapprehend the purpose of
their blessings, if they confine these to their own well-being and
lose sight of the higher object--that men may learn to know and love
Him. But the deliverance not only produces grateful meditation and
widespread praise; it sets the mother city and her daughter villages
astir, like Miriam and her maidens, with timbrel and dance, and
ringing songs which celebrate "Thy judgments," terrible as they were.
That dead host was an awful sight, and hymns of praise seem heartless
for its dirge. But it is not savage glee nor fierce hatred which
underlies the psalmist's summons, and still less is it selfish joy.
"Thy judgments" are to be hymned when they smite some giant evil; and
when systems and their upholders that array themselves against God are
drowned in some Red Sea, it is fitting that on its banks should echo,
"Sing ye to Jehovah, for He hath triumphed gloriously."

The close of this part may be slightly separated from vv. 9-11. The
citizens who have been cooped up by the siege are bidden to come
forth, and, free from fear, to compass the city without, and pass
between its palaces within, and so see how untouched they are. The
towers and bulwark or rampart remain unharmed, with not a stone
smitten from its place. Within, the palaces stand without a trace
of damage to their beauty. Whatever perishes in any assaults, that
which is of God will abide; and, after all musterings of the enemy,
the uncaptured walls will rise in undiminished strength, and the
fair palaces which they guard glitter in untarnished splendour. And
this complete exemption from harm is to be told to the generation
following, that they may learn what a God this God is, and how safely
and well He will guide all generations.

The last word in the Hebrew text, which the A.V. and R.V. render
"even unto death," can scarcely have that meaning. Many attempts have
been made to find a signification appropriate to the close of such
a triumphal hymn as this, but the simplest and most probable course
is to regard the words as a musical note, which is either attached
abnormally to the close of the psalm, or has strayed hither from
the superscription of Psalm xlix. It is found in the superscription
of Psalm ix. ("Al-Muth") as a musical direction, and has in all
likelihood the same meaning here. If it is removed, the psalm ends
abruptly, but a slight transposition of words and change of the main
division of the verse remove that difficulty by bringing "for ever
and aye" from the first half. The change improves both halves, laying
the stress of the first exclusively on the thought that this God is
such a God (or, by another rendering, "is here," _i.e._, in the city),
without bringing in reference to the eternity of His protection, and
completing the second half worthily, with the thought of His eternal
guidance of the people among whom He dwells.




                              PSALM XLIX.

   1  Hear this, all ye peoples;
      Give ear, all ye inhabitants of the world:
   2  Both low-born and high-born,
      Rich and poor together.
   3  My mouth shall speak wisdom;
      And the meditation of my heart shall utter understanding
   4  I will bend my ear to a parable:
      I will open my riddle on the harp.

   5  Why should I fear in the days of evil,
      When the malice of my pursuers surrounds me,
   6  [Even of] those who rely on their riches,
      And boast of their wealth?
   7  No man can at all redeem a brother;
      He cannot give to God a ransom for him
   8  (Yea, too costly is the redemption price of their soul,
      And he must leave it alone for ever):
   9  That he may continue living on for ever,
      And may not see the pit.
  10  Nay, he must see that the wise die
      The fool and the brutish perish alike,
      And leave to others their riches.
  11  Their inward thought [is that] their houses [shall last] for ever,
      Their dwellings to generation after generation;
      They call their lands by their own names.
  12  But man [being] in honour abides not:
      He becomes like the beasts [that] are brought to silence.

  13  This is the lot of them to whom presumptuous confidence belongs:
      And after them men approve their sayings. Selah.
  14  Like sheep they are folded in Sheol;
      Death shepherds them:
      And the upright shall rule over them in the morning;
      And their form shall be wasted away by Sheol,
      So that it is without a dwelling.
  15  Surely God shall redeem my soul from the power of Sheol:
      For He shall take me. Selah.
  16  Fear not thou when a man becomes rich,
      When the glory of his house increases:
  17  For when he dies he will not take away any [of it];
      His glory shall not go down after him.
  18  Though in his lifetime he bless his soul
      (And [men] praise thee when thou doest well for thyself)
  19  He shall go to the generation of his fathers;
      For evermore they see not light.
  20  Man [who is] in honour, and has not understanding,
      Becomes like the beasts that are brought to silence.


This psalm touches the high-water mark of Old Testament faith in
a future life; and in that respect, as well as in its application
of that faith to alleviate the mystery of present inequalities and
non-correspondence of desert with condition, is closely related to the
noble Psalm lxxiii., with which it has also several verbal identities.
Both have the same problem before them--to construct a theodicy,
or "to vindicate the ways of God to man"--and both solve it in the
same fashion. Both appear to refer to the story of Enoch in their
remarkable expression for ultimate reception into the Divine presence.
But whether the psalms are contemporaneous cannot be determined
from these data. Cheyne regards the treatment of the theme in Psalm
lxxiii. as "more skilful," and therefore presumably later than
Psalm xlix., which he would place "somewhat before the close of the
Persian period." This date rests on the assumption that the amount of
certitude as to a future life expressed in the psalm was not realised
in Israel till after the exile.

After a solemn summons to all the world to hear the psalmist's
utterance of what he has learned by Divine teaching (vv. 1-4), the
psalm is divided into two parts, each closed with a refrain. The
former of these (vv. 5-12) contrasts the arrogant security of the
prosperous godless with the end that awaits them; while the second
(vv. 13-20) contrasts the dreary lot of these victims of vain
self-confidence with the blessed reception after death into God's
own presence which the psalmist grasped as a certainty for himself,
and thereon bases an exhortation to possess souls in patience while
the godless prosper, and to be sure that their lofty structures will
topple into hideous ruin.

The psalmist's consciousness that he speaks by Divine inspiration,
and that his message imports all men, is grandly expressed in his
introductory summons. The very name which he gives to the world suggests
the latter thought; for it means--the world considered as fleeting.
Since we dwell in so transitory an abode, it becomes us to listen to
the deep truths of the psalm. These have a message for high and low,
for rich and poor. They are like a keen lancet to let out too great
fulness of blood from the former, and to teach moderation, lowliness,
and care for the Unseen. They are a calming draught for the latter,
soothing when perplexed or harmed by "the proud man's contumely."
But the psalmist calls for universal attention, not only because his
lessons fit all classes, but because they are in themselves "wisdom,"
and because he himself had first bent his ear to receive them before he
strung his lyre to utter them. The brother-psalmist, in Psalm lxxiii.,
presents himself as struggling with doubt and painfully groping his way
to his conclusion. This psalmist presents himself as a divinely inspired
teacher, who has received into purged and attentive ears; in many a
whisper from God, and as the result of many an hour of silent waiting,
the word which he would now proclaim on the housetops. The discipline
of the teacher of religious truth is the same at all times. There must
be the bent ear before there is the message which men will recognise as
important and true.

There is no parable in the ordinary sense in the psalm. The word seems
to have acquired the wider meaning of a weighty didactic utterance, as
in Psalm lxxviii. 2. The expression "Open my riddle" is ambiguous, and
is by some understood to mean the proposal and by others the solution
of the puzzle; but the phrase is more naturally understood of solving
than of setting a riddle, and if so, the disproportion between the
characters and fortunes of good and bad is the mystery or riddle, and
the psalm is its solution.

The main theme of the first part is the certainty of death, which makes
infinitely ludicrous the rich man's arrogance. It is one version of

          "There is no armour against Fate;
           Death lays his icy hand on kings."

Therefore how vain the boasting in wealth, when all its heaps cannot
buy a day of life! This familiar thought is not all the psalmist's
contribution to the solution of the mystery of life's unequal
partition of worldly good; but it prepares the way for it, and it
lays a foundation for his refusal to be afraid, however pressed by
insolent enemies. Very significantly he sets the conclusion, to which
observation of the transiency of human prosperity has led him, at the
beginning of his "parable." In the parallel psalm (lxxiii.) the singer
shows himself struggling from the depths of perplexity up to the sunny
heights of faith. But here the poet begins with the clear utterance
of trustful courage, and then vindicates it by the thought of the
impotence of wealth to avert death.

The hostility to himself of the self-confident rich boasters appears
only for a moment at first. It is described by a gnarled, energetic
phrase which has been diversely understood. But it seems clear that
the "iniquity" (A.V. and R.V.) spoken of in ver. 5 _b_ is not the
psalmist's sin, for a reference here to his guilt or to retribution
would be quite irrelevant; and if it were the consequences of his
own evil that dogged him at his heels, he had every reason to fear,
and confidence would be insolent defiance. But the word rendered in
the A.V. _heels_, which is retained in the R.V. with a change in
construction, may be a participial noun, derived from a verb meaning
to trip up or supplant; and this gives a natural coherence to the
whole verse, and connects it with the following one. "Pursuers" is a
weak equivalent for the literal "those who would supplant me," but
conveys the meaning, though in a somewhat enfeebled condition. Ver. 6
is a continuance of the description of the supplanters. They are "men
of this world," the same type of man as excites stern disapproval in
many psalms: as, for instance, in xvii. 14--a psalm which is closely
related to this, both in its portrait of the godless and its lofty
hope for the future. It is to be noted that they are not described
as vicious or God-denying or defying. They are simply absorbed in
the material, and believe that land and money are the real, solid
goods. They are the same men as Jesus meant when He said that it
was hard for those who trusted in riches to enter into the kingdom
of heaven. It has been thought that the existence of such a class
points to a late date for the psalm; but the reliance on riches
does not require large riches to rely on, and may flourish in full
perniciousness in very primitive social conditions. A small elevation
suffices to lift a man high enough above his fellows to make a weak
head giddy. Those to whom material possessions are the only good have
a natural enmity towards those who find their wealth in truth and
goodness. The poet, the thinker, and, most of all, the religious man,
are targets for more or less active "malice," or, at all events, are
recognised as belonging to another class, and regarded as singular and
"unpractical," if nothing worse. But the psalmist looks far enough
ahead to see the end of all the boasting, and points to the great
instance of the impotence of material good--its powerlessness to
prolong life. It would be more natural to find in ver. 7 the statement
that the rich man cannot prolong his own days than that he cannot do
so for a "brother." A very slight change in the text would make the
initial word of the verse ("brother") the particle of asseveration,
which occurs in ver. 15 (the direct antithesis of this verse), and is
characteristic of the parallel Psalm lxxiii. With that reading (Ewald,
Cheyne, Baethgen, etc.) other slight difficulties are smoothed; but
the present text is attested by the LXX. and other early versions,
and is capable of defence. It may be necessary to observe that there
is no reference here to any other "redemption" than that of the body
from physical death. There is a distinct intention to contrast the
man's limited power with God's, for ver. 15 points back to this verse,
and declares that God can do what man cannot. Ver. 8 must be taken as
a parenthesis, and the construction carried on from ver. 7 to ver.
9, which specifies the purpose of the ransom, if it were possible.
No man can secure for another continuous life or an escape from the
necessity of seeing the pit--_i.e._, going down to the depths of
death. It would cost more than all the rich man's store; wherefore
he--the would-be ransomer--must abandon the attempt for ever.

The "see" in ver. 10 is taken by many to have the same object as
the "see" in ver. 9. "Yea, he shall see it." (So Hupfeld, Hitzig,
Perowne, and others.) "The wise die" will then begin a new sentence.
But the repetition is feeble, and breaks up the structure of ver. 10
undesirably. The fact stares the rich man in the face that no difference
of position or of character affects the necessity of death. Down into
that insatiable maw of Sheol ("the ever-asking"?) beauty, wisdom,
wealth, folly, and animalism go alike, and it still gapes wide for fresh
food. But a strange hallucination in the teeth of all experience is
cherished in the "inward thought" of "the men of this world"--namely,
that their houses shall continue for ever. Like the godless man in Psalm
x., this rich man has reached a height of false security, which cannot
be put into words without exposing its absurdity, but which yet haunts
his inmost thoughts. The fond imagination of perpetuity is not driven
out by the plain facts of life and death. He acts on the presumption
of permanence; and he whose working hypothesis is that he is to abide
always as his permanent home in his sumptuous palace, is rightly set
down as believing in the incredible belief that the common lot will not
be his. A man's real belief is that which moulds his life, though he has
never formulated it in words. This "inward thought" either underlies
the rich godless man's career, or that career is inexplicable. There
is an emphatic contrast drawn between what he "sees" and what he, all
the while, hugs in his secret heart. That contrast is lost if the
emendation found in the LXX. and adopted by many modern commentators
is accepted, according to which, by the transposition of a letter, we
get "their grave" instead of "their inward [thought]." A reference to
the grave comes too early; and if the sense of ver. 11 _a_ is that
"their grave (or, the graves) are their houses for ever," there is no
parallelism between ver. 11 _a_ and _c_. The delusion of continuance is,
on the other hand, naturally connected with the proud attempt to make
their names immortal by impressing them on their estates. The language
of ver. 11 _c_ is somewhat ambiguous; but, on the whole, the rendering
"they call their lands by their own names" accords best with the context.

Then comes with a crash the stern refrain which pulverises all this
insanity of arrogance. The highest distinction among men gives no
exemption from the grim law which holds all corporeal life in its
gripe. The psalmist does not look, and probably did not see, beyond
the external fact of death. He knows nothing of a future for the men
whose portion is in this life. As we shall see in the second part of
the psalm, the confidence in immortality is for him a deduction from
the fact of communion with God here, and, apparently, his bent ear
had received no whisper as to any distinction between the godless man
and the beast in the regard to their deaths. They are alike "brought
to silence." The awful dumbness of the dead strikes on his heart and
imagination as most pathetic. "That skull had a tongue in it, and
could sing once," and now the pale lips are locked in eternal silence,
and some ears hunger in vain "for the sound of a voice that is still."

Hupfeld would transfer ver. 13, which begins the second part, so that
it should stand before the refrain, which would then have the Selah,
that now comes in peculiarly at the end of ver. 13. But there is nothing
unnatural in the first verse of the second part summing up the contents
of the first part; and such a summary is needed in order to bring out
the contrast between the godless folly and end of the rich men on the
one hand, and the hope of the psalmist on the other. The construction
of ver. 13 is disputed. The "way" may either mean conduct or fate, and
the word rendered in the A.V. and R.V. "folly" has also the meaning of
stupid security or self-confidence. It seems best to regard the sentence
as not pronouncing again that the conduct described in vv. 6-11 is
foolish, but that the end foretold in ver. 12 surely falls on such as
have that dogged insensibility to the facts of life which issues in such
presumptuous assurance. Many commentators would carry on the sentence
into ver. 13 _b_, and extend the "lot" to those who in after-generations
approve their sayings. But the paradoxical fact that notwithstanding
each generation's experience the delusion is obstinately maintained from
father to son yields a fuller meaning. In either case the notes of the
musical interlude fix attention on the thought, in order to make the
force of the following contrast greater. That contrast first deals with
the fate of godless men after death. The comparison with the "beasts"
in the refrain may have suggested the sombre grandeur of the metaphor
in ver. 14 _a_ and _b_: Sheol is as a great fold into which flocks are
driven. There Death rules as the shepherd of that dim realm. What a
contrast to the fold and the flock of the other Shepherd, who guides
His unterrified sheep through the "valley of the shadow of death"! The
waters of stillness beside which this sad shepherd makes his flock lie
down are doleful and sluggish. There is no cheerful activity for these,
nor any fair pastures, but they are penned in compelled inaction in that
dreadful fold.

So far the picture is comparatively clear, but with the next clause
difficulties begin. Does the "morning" mean only the end of the night
of trouble, the beginning in this life of the "upright's" deliverance,
or have we here an eschatological utterance? The whole of the rest of
the verse has to do with the unseen world, and to confine this clause
to the temporal triumph of the righteous over their dead oppressors
drags in an idea belonging to another sphere altogether. We venture to
regard the interpretation of these enigmatical words, which sees in
them a dim adumbration of a great morning which will yet stream its
light into the land of darkness, and in which not this or that upright
man but the class as a whole shall triumph, as the only one which
keeps the parts of the verse in unity. It is part of the "riddle" of
the psalmist, probably not perfectly explicable to himself. We cannot
say that there is here the clear teaching of a resurrection, but there
is the germ of it, whether distinctly apprehended by the singer or
not. The first glimpses of truth in all regions are vague, and the
gazer does not know that the star he sees is a sun. Not otherwise
did the great truths of the future life rise on inspired men of old.
This psalmist divined, or, more truly, heard in his bent ear, that
Good and its lovers should triumph beyond the grave, and that somehow
a morning would break for them. But he knew nothing of any such
for the godless dead. And the remainder of the verse expresses in
enigmatical brevity and obscurity the gloomy fate of those for whom
there was no such awakening as he hoped for himself. Very different
renderings have been given of the gnarled words. If we adhere to the
accents, the literal translation is, "Their form is [destined] for
the wasting of Sheol, from a dwelling-place for it," or "without its
dwelling-place"--an obscure saying, which is, however, intelligible
when rendered as above. It describes the wasting away of the whole
man, not merely his corporeal form, in Sheol, of which the corruption
of the body in the grave may stand as a terrible symbol, so that only
a thin shred of personality remains, which wanders homeless, unclothed
with any house either "of this tabernacle" or any other, and so found
drearily naked. Homeless desolation of bare being, from which all that
is fair or good has been gnawed away, is awfully expressed in the
words. Other renderings, neglecting the accents and amending the text,
bring out other meanings: such as "Their form is for corruption; Hades
[will be] its dwelling-place" (Jennings and Lowe); "Their form shall
waste away. Sheol shall be their castle for ever" (so Cheyne in "Book
of Psalms"; in "Orig. of Psalt." _frame_ is substituted for _form_,
and _palace_ for _castle_. Baethgen gives up the attempt to render the
text or to restore it, and takes to asterisks).

To this condition of dismal inactivity, as of sheep penned in a fold, of
loss of beauty, of wasting and homelessness, the psalmist opposes the
fate which he has risen to anticipate for himself. Ver. 15 is plainly
antithetical, not only to ver. 14, but to ver. 7. The "redemption" which
was impossible with men is possible with God. The emphatic particle of
asseveration and restriction at the beginning is, as we have remarked,
characteristic of the parallel Psalm lxiii. It here strengthens the
expression of confidence, and points to God as alone able to deliver
His servant from the "hand of Sheol." That deliverance is clearly not
escape from the universal lot, which the psalmist has just proclaimed so
impressively as affecting wise and foolish alike. But while he expects
that he, too, will have to submit to the strong hand that plucks all men
from their dwelling-places, he has won the assurance that sameness of
outward lot covers absolute difference in the conditions of those who
are subjected to it. The faith that he will be delivered from the power
of Sheol does not necessarily imply the specific kind of deliverance
involved in resurrection, and it may be a question whether that idea was
definitely before the singer's mind. But, without dogmatising on that
doubtful point, plainly his expectation was of a life beyond death, the
antithesis of the cheerless one just painted in such gloomy colours.
The very brevity of the second clause of the verse makes it the more
emphatic.

The same pregnant phrase occurs again with the same emphasis in Psalm
lxxiii. 24, "Thou shalt take me," and in both passages the psalmist is
obviously quoting from the narrative of Enoch's translation. "God took
him" (Gen. v. 24). He has fed his faith on that signal instance of the
end of a life of communion with God, and it has confirmed the hopes
which such a life cannot but kindle, so that he is ready to submit to
the common lot, bearing in his heart the assurance that, in experiencing
it, he will not be driven by that grim shepherd into his gloomy fold,
but lifted by God into His own presence. As in Psalms xvi. and xvii.,
we have here the certainty of immortality filling a devout soul as
the result of present experience of communion with God. These great
utterances as to the two contrasted conditions after death are, in one
aspect, the psalmist's "riddle," in so far as they are stated in "dark
and cloudy words," but, in another view, are the solution of the painful
enigma of the prosperity of the godless and the afflictions of the
righteous. Fittingly the Selah follows this solemn, great hope.

As the first part began with the psalmist's encouraging of himself to
put away fear, so the whole ends with the practical application of the
truths declared, in the exhortation to others not to be terrified nor
bewildered out of their faith by the insolent inflated prosperity of
the godless. The lofty height of wholesome mysticism reached in the
anticipation of personal immortality is not maintained in this closing
part. The ground of the exhortation is simply the truth proclaimed
in the first part, with additional emphasis on the thought of the
necessary parting from all wealth and pomp. "Shrouds have no pockets."
All the external is left behind, and much of the inward too--such as
habits, desires, ways of thinking, and acquirements which have been
directed to and bounded by the seen and temporal. What is not left
behind is character and desert. The man of this world is wrenched from
his possessions by death; but he who has made God his portion here
carries his portion with him, and does not enter on that other state

                          "in utter nakedness,
          But trailing clouds of glory does he come
          _To_ God who is his home."

Our Lord's parable of the foolish rich man has echoes of this psalm.
"Whose shall those things be?" reminds us of "He will not take
away any of it"; and "Soul, thou hast much goods laid up ... take
thine ease" is the best explanation of what the psalmist meant by
"blessing his soul." The godless rich man of the psalm is a selfish
and godless one. His condemnation lies not in his wealth, but in his
absorption in it and reliance upon it, and in his cherishing the
dream of perpetual enjoyment of it, or at least shunning the thought
of its loss. Therefore, "when he dies, he goes to the generation of
his fathers," who are conceived of as gathered in solemn assembly in
that dark realm. "Generation" here implies, as it often does, moral
similarity. It includes all the man's predecessors of like temper with
himself. A sad company sitting there in the dark! _Going to them_
is not identical with death nor with burial, but implies at least
some rudimentary notion of companionship according to character, in
that land of darkness. The _darkness_ is the privation of all which
deserves the name of light, whether it be joy or purity. Ver. 18
_b_ is by some taken to be the psalmist's address to the rich man,
and by others to be spoken to the disciple who had been bidden not
to fear. In either case it brings in the thought of the popular
applause which flatters success, and plays chorus to the prosperous
man's own self-congratulations. Like ver. 13 _b_, it gibbets the
servile admiration of such men, as indicating what the praisers would
fain themselves be, and as a disclosure of that base readiness to
worship the rising sun, which has for its other side contempt for the
unfortunate who should receive pity and help.

The refrain is slightly but significantly varied. Instead of "abides
not," it reads "and has not understanding." The alteration in the Hebrew
is very slight, the two verbs differing only by one letter, and the
similarity in sound is no doubt the reason for the selection of the
word. But the change brings out the limitations under which the first
form of the refrain is true, and guards the whole teaching of the psalm
from being taken to be launched at rich men as such. The illuminative
addition in this second form shows that it is the abuse of riches, when
they steal away that recognition of God and of man's mortality which
underlies the psalmist's conception of _understanding_, that is doomed
to destruction like the beasts that are put to silence. The two forms
of the refrain are, then, precisely parallel to our Lord's two sayings,
when He first declared that it was hard for a rich man to enter the
kingdom of heaven, and then, in answer to His disciples' surprise, put
His dictum in the more definite form, "How hard is it for them that
trust in riches to enter into the kingdom!"




                                PSALM L.

   1  El, Elohim, Jehovah has spoken, and called the earth
      From the place of sunrise to its going down.
   2  From Zion, the perfection of beauty,
      God has shone.
   3  Our God will come, and cannot be silent:
      Fire devours before Him,
      And round Him it is tempestuous exceedingly.
   4  He calls to the heavens above,
      And to the earth, that He may judge His people:
   5  "Assemble to Me My favoured ones,
      Who have made a covenant with Me by sacrifice."
   6  And the heavens declare His righteousness;
      For God--the judge is He. Selah.

   7  Hearken, My people, and I will speak;
      O Israel, and I will witness against thee:
      Elohim, thy God am I.
   8  Not on [account of] thy sacrifices will I reprove thee;
      Yea, thy burnt offerings are before me continually.
   9  I will not take a bullock out of thy house,
      Nor out of thy folds he-goats.
  10  For Mine is every beast of the forest,
      The cattle on the mountains in thousands.
  11  I know every bird of the mountains,
      And whatever moves on the field is before Me.
  12  If I were hungry, I would not tell thee:
      For Mine is the world and its fulness.
  13  Shall I eat the flesh of bulls, or the blood of he-goats shall I
                drink?
  14  Sacrifice to God thanksgiving;
      And pay thy vows to the Most High:
  15  And call on Me in the day of trouble.
      I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me.
  16  But to the wicked [man] God saith,
      What hast thou to do to tell My statutes,
      And that thou takest My covenant into thy mouth?
  17  And [all the while] thou hatest correction,
      And flingest My words behind thee.
  18  If thou seest a robber, thou art pleased with him;
      And with adulterers is thy portion.
  19  Thy mouth thou dost let loose for evil,
      And thy tongue weaves deceit.
  20  Thou sittest [and] speakest against thy brother;
      At thine own mother's son thou aimest a thrust.
  21  These things hast thou done, and I was silent;
      Thou thoughtest that I was altogether like thyself:
      I will reprove thee, and order [the proofs] before thine eyes.

  22  Consider now this, ye that forget God,
      Lest I tear you in pieces, and there be no deliverer:
  23  He who offers thanksgiving as sacrifice glorifies Me;
      And he who orders his way [aright]--I will show him the salvation
                of God.


This is the first of the Asaph psalms, and is separated from the other
eleven (Psalms lxxiii.-lxxxiii.) for reasons that do not appear.
Probably they are no more recondite than the verbal resemblance
between the summons to all the earth at the beginning of Psalm xlix.
and the similar proclamation in the first verses of Psalm l. The
arrangement of the Psalter is often obviously determined by such
slight links. The group has certain features in common, of which some
appear here: _e.g._, the fondness for descriptions of theophanies;
the prominence given to God's judicial action; the preference for
the Divine names of El, Adonai (the Lord), Elyon (Most High). Other
peculiarities of the class--_e.g._, the love for the designation
"Joseph" for the nation, and delight in the image of the Divine
Shepherd--are not found in this psalm. It contains no historical
allusions which aid in dating it. The leading idea of it--viz., the
depreciation of outward sacrifice--is unhesitatingly declared by many
to have been impossible in the days of the Levite Asaph, who was one
of David's musical staff. But is it so certain that such thoughts
were foreign to the period in which Samuel declared that obedience
was better than sacrifice? Certainly the tone of the psalm is that of
later prophets, and there is much probability in the view that Asaph
is the name of the family or guild of singers from whom these psalms
came rather than that of an individual.

The structure is clear and simple. There is, first, a magnificent
description of God's coming to judgment and summoning heaven and earth
to witness while He judges His people (vv. 1-6). The second part (vv.
7-15) proclaims the worthlessness of sacrifice; and the third (vv.
16-21) brands hypocrites who pollute God's statutes by taking them
into their lips while their lives are foul. A closing strophe of two
verses (22, 23) gathers up the double lesson of the whole.

The first part falls again into two, of three verses each, of which
the former describes the coming of the judge, and the latter the
opening of the judgment. The psalm begins with a majestic heaping
together of the Divine names, as if a herald were proclaiming the
style and titles of a mighty king at the opening of a solemn assize.
No English equivalents are available, and it is best to retain the
Hebrew, only noting that each name is separated from the others by the
accents in the original, and that to render either "the mighty God"
(A.V.) or "the God of gods" is not only against that punctuation, but
destroys the completeness symbolised by the threefold designation.
Hupfeld finds the heaping together of names "frosty." Some ears will
rather hear in it a solemn reiteration like the boom of triple
thunders. Each name has its own force of meaning. El speaks of God
as mighty; Elohim, as the object of religious fear; Jehovah, as the
self-existent and covenant God.

The earth from east to west is summoned, not to be judged, but to
witness God judging His people. The peculiarity of this theophany is
that God is not represented as coming from afar or from above, but as
letting His light blaze out from Zion, where He sits enthroned. As His
presence made the city "the joy of the whole earth" (Psalm xlviii.
2), so it makes Zion the sum of all beauty. The idea underlying the
representation of His shining out of Zion is that His presence among
His people makes certain His judgment of their worship. It is the
poetic clothing of the prophetic announcement, "You only have I known
of all the inhabitants of the earth; therefore will I punish you for
your iniquities." The seer beholds the dread pomp of the advent of the
Judge, and describes it with accessories familiar in such pictures:
devouring fire is His forerunner, as clearing a path for Him among
tangles of evil, and wild tempests whirl round His stable throne.
"He cannot be silent." The form of the negation in the original is
emotional or emphatic, conveying the idea of the impossibility of His
silence in the face of such corruptions.

The opening of the court or preparation for the judgment follows.
That Divine voice speaks, summoning heaven and earth to attend as
spectators of the solemn process. The universal significance of God's
relation to and dealings with Israel, and the vindication of His
righteousness by His inflexible justice dealt out to their faults,
are grandly taught in this making heaven and earth assessors of that
tribunal. The court having been thus constituted, the Judge on His
seat, the spectators standing around, the accused are next brought in.
There is no need to be prosaically definite as to the attendants who
are bidden to escort them. His officers are everywhere, and to ask who
they are in the present case is to apply to poetry the measuring lines
meant for bald prose. It is more important to note the names by which
the persons to be judged are designated. They are "My favoured ones,
who have made a covenant with Me by (lit. _over_) sacrifice." These
terms carry an indictment, recalling the lavish mercies so unworthily
requited, and the solemn obligations so unthankfully broken. The
application of the name "favoured ones" to the whole nation is
noteworthy. In other psalms it is usually applied to the more devout
section, who are by it sharply distinguished from the mass; here
it includes the whole. It does not follow that the diversity of
usage indicates difference of date. All that is certainly shown is
difference of point of view. Here the ideal of the nation is set
forth, in order to bring out more emphatically the miserable contrast
of the reality. Sacrifice is set aside as worthless in the subsequent
verses. But could the psalmist have given clearer indication that
his depreciation is not to be exaggerated into entire rejection of
external rites, than by thus putting in front of it the worth of
sacrifice when offered aright, as the means of founding and sustaining
covenant relations with God? If his own words had been given heed to,
his commentators would have been saved the blunder of supposing that
he is antagonistic to the sacrificial worship which he thus regards.

But before the assize opens, the heavens, which had been summoned to
behold, declare beforehand His righteousness, as manifested by the
fact that He is about to judge His people. The Selah indicates that a
long-drawn swell of music fills the expectant pause before the Judge
speaks from His tribunal.

The second part (vv. 7-15) deals with one of the two permanent
tendencies which work for the corruption of religion--namely,
the reliance on external worship, and neglect of the emotions of
thankfulness and trust. God appeals first to the relation into which
He has entered with the people, as giving Him the right to judge.
There may be a reference to the Mosaic formula, "I am Jehovah, thy
God," which is here converted, in accordance with the usage of this
book of the Psalter, into "God (Elohim), thy God." The formula which
was the seal of laws when enacted is also the warrant for the action
of the Judge. He has no fault to find with the external acts of
worship. They are abundant and "continually before Him." Surely this
declaration at the outset sets aside the notion that the psalmist
was launching a polemic against sacrifices _per se_. It distinctly
takes the ground that the habitual offering of these was pleasing
to the Judge. Their presentation continually is not reproved, but
approved. What then is condemned? Surely it can be nothing but
sacrifice without the thanksgiving and prayer required in vv. 14, 15.
The irony of vv. 9-13 is directed against the folly of believing that
in sacrifice itself God delighted; but the shafts are pointless as
against offerings which are embodied gratitude and trust. The gross
stupidity of supposing that man's gift makes the offering to be God's
more truly than before is laid bare in the fine, sympathetic glance
at the free, wild life of forest, mountain, and plain, which is all
God's possession, and present to His upholding thought, and by the
side of which man's folds are very small affairs. "The cattle" in
ver. 10 are not, as usually, domesticated animals, but the larger wild
animals. They graze or roam "on the mountains of a thousand"--a harsh
expression, best taken, perhaps, as meaning mountains where thousands
[of the cattle] are. But the omission of one letter gives the more
natural reading "mountains of God" (_cf._ Psalm xxxvi. 6). It is
adopted by Olshausen and Cheyne, and smooths the construction, but has
against it its obliteration of the fine thought of the multitudes of
creatures peopling the untravelled hills. The word rendered "whatever
moves" is obscure; but that meaning is accepted by most. Cheyne in his
Commentary gives as alternative "that which comes forth abundantly,"
and in "Orig. of Psalt.," 473, "offspring." All these are "with
Me"--_i.e._, present to His mind--a parallel to "I know" in the first
clause of the same verse.

Vv. 12, 13, turn the stream of irony on another absurdity involved
in the superstition attacked--the grossly material thought of God
involved in it. What good do bulls' flesh and goats' blood do to Him?
But if these are expressions of thankful love, they are delightsome
to Him. Therefore the section ends with the declaration that the true
sacrifice is thanksgiving and the discharge of vows. Men honour God by
asking and taking, not by giving. They glorify Him when, by calling
on Him in trouble, they are delivered; and then, by thankfulness and
service, as well as by the evidence which their experience gives that
prayer is not in vain, they again glorify Him. All sacrifices are
God's before they are offered, and do not become any more His by being
offered. He neither needs nor can partake of material sustenance. But
men's hearts are not His without their glad surrender, in the same
way as after it; and thankful love, trust, and obedience are as the
food of God, sacrifices acceptable, well-pleasing to Him.

The third part of the psalm is still sterner in tone. It strikes at
the other great corruption of worship by hypocrites. As has been often
remarked, it condemns breaches of the second table of the law, just as
the former part may be regarded as dealing with transgressions of the
first. The eighth, seventh, and ninth commandments are referred to in
vv. 18, 19, as examples of the hypocrites' sins. The irreconcilable
contradiction of their professions and conduct is vividly brought out
in the juxtaposition of "declare My statutes" and "castest My words
behind thee." They do two opposite things with the same words--at the
same time proclaiming them with all lip-reverence, and scornfully
flinging them behind their backs in their conduct. The word rendered
in the A.V. "slanderest" is better taken as in margin of the R.V.,
"givest a thrust," meaning to use violence so as to harm or overthrow.

Hypocrisy finds encouragement in impunity. God's silence is an
emphatic way of expressing His patient tolerance of evil unpunished.
Such "long-suffering" is meant to lead to repentance, and indicates
God's unwillingness to smite. But, as experience shows, it is often
abused, and "because sentence against an evil work is not executed
speedily, the heart of the sons of men is throughly set in them to
do evil." The gross mind has gross conceptions of God. One nemesis
of hypocrisy is the dimming of the idea of the righteous Judge.
All sin darkens the image of God. When men turn away from God's
self-revelation, as they do by transgression and most fatally by
hypocrisy, they cannot but make a God after their own image. Browning
has taught us in his marvellous "Caliban on Setebos" how a coarse
nature projects its own image into the heavens and calls it God. God
made man in His own likeness. Men who have lost that likeness make
God in theirs, and so sink deeper in evil till He speaks. Then comes
an apocalypse to the dreamer, when there is flashed before him what
God is and what he himself is. How terror-stricken the gaze of these
eyes before which God arrays the deeds of a life, seen for the first
time in their true character! It will be the hypocrite's turn to keep
silence then, and his thought of a complaisant God like himself will
perish before the stern reality.

The whole teaching of the psalm is gathered up in the two closing
verses. "Ye that forget God" includes both the superstitious
formalists and the hypocrites. Reflection upon such truths as those
of the psalm will save them from else inevitable destruction. "This"
points on to ver. 23, which is a compendium of both parts of the
psalm. The true worship, which consists in thankfulness and praise, is
opposed in ver. 23 _a_ to mere externalisms of sacrifice, as being the
right way of glorifying God. The second clause presents a difficulty.
But it would seem that we must expect to find in it a summing up
of the warning of the third part of the psalm similar to that of
the second part in the preceding clause. That consideration goes
against the rendering in the R.V. margin (adopted from Delitzsch):
"and prepares a way [by which] I may show," etc. The ellipsis of
the relative is also somewhat harsh. The literal rendering of the
ambiguous words is, "one setting a way." Graetz, who is often wild in
his emendations, proposes a very slight one here--the change of one
letter, which would yield a good meaning: "he that is perfect in his
way." Cheyne adopts this, and it eases a difficulty. But the received
text is capable of the rendering given in the A.V., and, even without
the natural supplement "aright," is sufficiently intelligible. To
order one's way or "conversation" is, of course, equivalent to giving
heed to it according to God's word, and is the opposite of the conduct
stigmatised in vv. 16-21. The promise to him who thus acts is that
he shall see God's salvation, both in the narrower sense of daily
interpositions for deliverance, and in the wider of a full and final
rescue from all evil and endowment with all good. The psalm has as
keen an edge for modern as for ancient sins. Superstitious reliance
on externals of worship survives, though sacrifices have ceased; and
hypocrites, with their mouths full of the Gospel, still cast God's
words behind them, as did those ancient hollow-hearted proclaimers and
breakers of the Law.




                               PSALM LI.

   1  Be gracious to me, O God, according to Thy loving-kindness:
      According to the greatness of Thy compassions blot out my
                transgressions.
   2  Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
      And from my sin make me clean.
   3  For I, I know my transgressions:
      And my sin is before me continually.
   4  Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned,
      And done what is evil in Thine eyes:
      That Thou mightest appear righteous when Thou speakest,
      And clear when Thou judgest.

   5  Behold, in iniquity was I born;
      And in sin did my mother conceive me.
   6  Behold, Thou desirest truth in the inward parts:
      Therefore in the hidden part make me to know wisdom.

   7  Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean:
      Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
   8  Make me to hear joy and gladness;
      That the bones Thou hast crushed may exult.
   9  Hide Thy face from my sins, and all my iniquities blot out.

  10  A clean heart create for me, O God;
      And a steadfast spirit renew within me.
  11  Cast me not out from Thy presence;
      And Thy holy spirit take not from me.
  12  Restore to me the joy of Thy salvation:
      And with a willing spirit uphold me.

  13  [Then] will I teach transgressors Thy ways;
      And sinners shall return to Thee.
  14  Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God, the God of my salvation;
      And my tongue shall joyfully sing Thy righteousness.
  15  Lord, open my lips;
      And my mouth shall declare Thy praise.
  16  For Thou desirest not sacrifice; else would I give it:
      In burnt offering Thou hast no pleasure.
  17  The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit:
      A heart broken and crushed, O God, Thou wilt not despise.

  18  Do good in Thy good pleasure to Zion:
      O build the walls of Jerusalem.
  19  Then shalt Thou delight in sacrifices of righteousness, burnt
                offering and whole burnt offering:
      Then shall they offer bullocks on Thine altar.


The main grounds on which the Davidic authorship of this psalm is
denied are four. First, it is alleged that its conceptions of sin
and penitence are in advance of his stage of religious development;
or, as Cheyne puts it, "David could not have had these ideas" ("Aids
to Dev. Study of Crit.," 166). The impossibility depends on a theory
which is not yet so established as to be confidently used to settle
questions of date. Again, the psalmist's wail, "Against Thee only
have I sinned," is said to be conclusive proof that the wrong done
to Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah cannot be referred to. But is
not _God_ the correlative of _sin_, and may not the same act be
qualified in one aspect as a crime and in another as a sin, bearing
in the latter character exclusive relation to God? The prayer in ver.
18 is the ground of a third objection to the Davidic authorship.
Certainly it is hopeless to attempt to explain. "Build the walls of
Jerusalem" as David's prayer. But the opinion held by both advocates
and opponents of David's authorship, that vv. 18, 19, are a later
liturgical addition, removes this difficulty. Another ground on which
the psalm is brought down to a late date is the resemblances in it to
Isa. xl.-lxvi., which are taken to be echoes of the prophetic words.
The resemblances are undoubted; the assumption that the psalmist is
the copyist is not.

The personified nation is supposed by most modern authorities to be
the speaker; and the date is sometimes taken to be the Restoration
period, before the rebuilding of the walls by Nehemiah (Cheyne, "Orig.
of Psalt.," 162); by others, the time of the Babylonish exile; and,
as usual, by some, the Maccabean epoch. It puts a considerable strain
upon the theory of personification to believe that these confessions
of personal sin, and longing cries for a clean heart, which so many
generations have felt to fit their most secret experiences, were not
the wailings of a soul which had learned the burden of individuality,
by consciousness of sin, and by realisation of the awful solitude of
its relation to God. There are also expressions in the psalm which
seem to clog the supposition that the speaker is the nation with great
difficulties--_e.g._, the reference to birth in ver. 5, the prayer for
inward truth in ver. 6, and for a clean heart in ver. 10. Baethgen
acknowledges that the two latter only receive their full meaning when
applied to an individual. He quotes Olshausen, a defender of the
national reference, who really admits the force of the objection to
it, raised on the ground of these expressions, while he seeks to parry
it by saying that "it is not unnatural that the poet, speaking in the
singular, should, although he writes for the congregation, bring in
occasional expressions here and there which do not fit the community so
well as they do each individual in it." The acknowledgment is valuable;
the attempt to turn its edge may be left to the reader's judgment.

In vv. 1-9 the psalmist's cry is chiefly for pardon; in vv. 10-12 he
prays chiefly for purity; in vv. 13-17 he vows grateful service. Vv.
18, 19, are probably a later addition.

The psalm begins with at once grasping the character of God as the
sole ground of hope. That character has been revealed in an infinite
number of acts of love. The very number of the psalmist's sins
drove him to contemplate the yet greater number of God's mercies.
For where but in an infinite placableness and loving-kindness could
he find pardon? If the Davidic authorship is adopted, this psalm
followed Nathan's assurance of forgiveness, and its petitions are
the psalmist's efforts to lay hold of that assurance. The revelation
of God's love precedes and causes true penitence. Our prayer for
forgiveness is the appropriation of God's promise of forgiveness. The
assurance of pardon does not lead to a light estimate of sin, but
drives it home to the conscience.

The petitions of vv. 1, 2, teach us how the psalmist thought of sin.
They are all substantially the same, and their repetition discloses
the depth of longing in the suppliant. The language fluctuates between
plural and singular nouns, designating the evil as "transgressions" and
as "iniquity" and "sin." The psalmist regards it, first, as a multitude
of separate acts, then as all gathered together into a grim unity. The
single deeds of wrong-doing pass before him. But these have a common
root; and we must not only recognise acts, but that alienation of heart
from which they come--not only sin as it comes out in the life, but as
it is coiled round our hearts. Sins are the manifestations of sin.

We note, too, how the psalmist realises his personal responsibility.
He reiterates "my"--"_my_ transgressions, _my_ iniquity, _my_ sin." He
does not throw blame on circumstances, or talk about temperament or
maxims of society or bodily organisation. All these had some share in
impelling him to sin; but after all allowance made for them, the deed
is the doer's, and he must bear its burden.

The same eloquent synonyms for evil deeds which are found in Psalm
xxxii. occur again here. "Transgression" is literally _rebellion_;
"iniquity," _that which is twisted_ or _bent_; "sin," _missing a
mark_. Sin is rebellion, the uprising of the will against rightful
authority--not merely the breach of abstract propriety or law, but
opposition to a living Person, who has right to obedience. The
definition of virtue is obedience to God, and the sin in sin is the
assertion of independence of God and opposition to His will.

Not less profound is that other name, which regards sin as "iniquity"
or distortion. Then there is a straight line to which men's lives
should run parallel. Our life's paths should be like these conquering
Roman roads, turning aside for nothing, but going straight to their
aim over mountain and ravine, stream or desert. But this man's passion
had made for him a crooked path, where he found no end, "in wandering
mazes lost." Sin is, further, missing an aim, the aim being either the
Divine purpose for man, the true Ideal of manhood, or the satisfaction
proposed by the sinner to himself as the result of his sin. In both
senses every sin misses the mark.

These petitions show also how the psalmist thought of forgiveness. As
the words for sin give a threefold view of it, so those for pardon set
it forth in three aspects. "Blot out";--that petition conceives of
forgiveness as being the erasure of a writing, perhaps of an indictment.
Our past is a blurred manuscript, full of false and bad things. The
melancholy theory of some thinkers is summed up in the despairing
words, "What I have written, I have written." But the psalmist knew
better than that; and we should know better than he did. Our souls may
become palimpsests; and, as devotional meditations might be written by
a saint on a parchment that had borne foul legends of false gods, the
bad writing on them may be obliterated, and God's law be written there.
"Wash me thoroughly" needs no explanation. But the word employed is
significant, in that it probably means washing by kneading or beating,
not by simple rinsing. The psalmist is ready to submit to any painful
discipline, if only he may be cleansed. "Wash me, beat me, tread me
down, hammer me with mallets, dash me against stones, do anything with
me, if only these foul stains are melted from the texture of my soul."
The psalmist had not heard of the alchemy by which men can "wash their
robes and make them white in the blood of the Lamb"; but he held fast
by God's "loving-kindness," and knew the blackness of his own sin, and
groaned under it; and therefore his cry was not in vain. An anticipation
of the Christian teaching as to forgiveness lies in his last expression
for pardon, "make me clean," which is the technical word for the
priestly act of declaring ceremonial purity, and for the other priestly
act of making as well as declaring clean from the stains of leprosy.
The suppliant thinks of his guilt not only as a blotted record or as a
polluted robe, but as a fatal disease, the "first-born of death," and as
capable of being taken away only by the hand of the Priest laid on the
feculent mass. We know who put out his hand and touched the leper, and
said, "I will: be thou clean."

The petitions for cleansing are, in ver. 3, urged on the ground of the
psalmist's consciousness of sin. Penitent confession is a condition of
forgiveness. There is no need to take this verse as giving the reason
why the psalmist offered his prayer, rather than as presenting a plea
why it should be answered. Some commentators have adopted the former
explanation, from a fear lest the other should give countenance to the
notion that repentance is a meritorious cause of forgiveness; but that
is unnecessary scrupulousness. "Sin is always sin, and deserving of
punishment, whether it is confessed or not. Still, confession of sin is
of importance on this account--that God will be gracious to none but to
those who confess their sin" (Luther, quoted by Perowne).

Ver. 4 sounds the depths in both its clauses. In the first the
psalmist shuts out all other aspects of his guilt, and is absorbed
in its solemnity as viewed in relation to God. It is asked, How
could David have thought of his sin, which had in so many ways been
"against" others, as having been "against Thee, Thee only"? As has
been noted above, this confession has been taken to demonstrate
conclusively the impossibility of the Davidic authorship. But surely
it argues a strange ignorance of the language of a penitent soul,
to suppose that such words as the psalmist's could be spoken only
in regard to sins which had no bearing at all on other men. David's
deed had been a crime against Bathsheba, against Uriah, against his
family and his realm; but these were not its blackest characteristics.
Every crime against man is sin against God. "Inasmuch as ye have
done it unto one of the least of these ... ye have done it unto Me"
is the spirit of the Decalogue as well as the language of Jesus. And
it is only when considered as having relation to God that crimes
are darkened into sins. The psalmist is stating a strictly true and
profound thought when he declares that he has sinned "against Thee
only." Further, that thought has, for the time being, filled his whole
horizon. Other aspects of his shameful deed will torture him enough
in coming days, even when he has fully entered into the blessedness
of forgiveness; but they are not present to his mind now, when the
one awful thought of his perverted relation to God swallows up all
others. A man who has never felt that all-engrossing sense of his sin
as against God only has much to learn.

The second clause of ver. 4 opens the question whether "in order that"
is always used in the Old Testament in its full meaning as expressing
intention, or sometimes in the looser signification of "so that,"
expressing result. Several passages usually referred to on this point
(_e.g._, Psalm xxx. 12; Exod. xi. 9; Isa. xliv. 9; Hos. viii. 4)
strongly favour the less stringent view, which is also in accordance
with the genius of the Hebrew race, who were not metaphysicians. The
other view, that the expression here means "in order that," insists
on grammatical precision in the cries of a penitent heart, and clogs
the words with difficulty. If their meaning is that the psalmist's
sin was intended to show forth God's righteousness in judging, the
intention must have been God's, not the sinner's; and such a thought
not only ascribes man's sin directly to God, but is quite irrelevant
to the psalmist's purpose in the words. For he is not palliating his
transgression or throwing it on Divine predestination (as Cheyne takes
him to be doing), but is submitting himself, in profoundest abasement of
undivided guilt, to the just judgment of God. His prayer for forgiveness
is accompanied with willingness to submit to chastisement, as all true
desire for pardon is. He makes no excuses for his sin, but submits
himself unconditionally to the just judgment of God. "Thou remainest
the Holy One; I am the sinner; and therefore Thou mayest, with perfect
justice, punish me and spurn me from Thy presence" (Stier).

Vv. 5, 6, are marked as closely related by the "Behold" at the beginning
of each. The psalmist passes from penitent contemplation and confession
of his acts of sin to acknowledge his sinful nature, derived from
sinful parents. "Original sin" is theological terminology for the same
facts which science gathers together under the name of "heredity." The
psalmist is not responsible for later dogmatic developments of the
idea, but he feels that he has to confess not only his acts but his
nature. "A corrupt tree cannot bring forth good fruit." The taint is
transmitted. No fact is more plain than this, as all the more serious
observers of human life and of their own characters have recognised.
Only a superficial view of humanity or an inadequate conception of
morality can jauntily say that "all children are born good." Theologians
have exaggerated and elaborated, as is their wont, and so have made the
thought repugnant; but the derived sinful bias of human nature is a
fact, not a dogma, and those who know it and their own share of it best
will be disposed to agree with Browning, in finding one great reason for
believing in Biblical religion, that--

          "'Tis the faith that launched point-blank her dart
           At the head of a lie--taught Original Sin,
           The Corruption of Man's Heart."

The psalmist is not, strictly speaking, either extenuating or
aggravating his sin by thus recognising his evil nature. He does
not think that sin is the less his, because the tendency has been
inherited. But he is spreading all his condition before God. In fact,
he is not so much thinking of his criminality as of his desperate
need. From a burden so heavy and so intertwined with himself none but
God can deliver him. He cannot cleanse himself; for self is infected.
He cannot find cleansing among men, for they too have inherited the
poison. And so he is driven to God, or else must sink into despair.
He who once sees into the black depths of his own heart will give
up thereafter all ideas of "every man his own redeemer." That the
psalmist's purpose was not to minimise his own guilt is clear, not
only from the tone of the psalm, but from the antithesis presented by
the Divine desire after inward truth in the next verse, which is out
of place if this verse contains a palliation for sin.

We can scarcely miss the bearing of this verse on the question of
whether the psalm is the confession of an individual penitent or that
of the nation. It strongly favours the former view, though it does not
make the latter absolutely impossible.

The discovery of inherent and inherited sinfulness brings with it
another discovery--that of the penetrating depth of the requirements
of God's law. He cannot be satisfied with outside conformity in deed.
The more intensely conscience realises sin, the more solemnly rises
before it the Divine ideal of man in its inwardness as well as in its
sweep. Truth within--inward correspondence with His will, and absolute
sincerity of soul are His desire. But I am "born in iniquity": a
terrible antithesis, and hopeless but for one hope, which dawns over
the suppliant like morning on a troubled sea. If we cannot ask God to
make us what He wishes us to be, these two discoveries of our nature
and of His will are open doorways to despair; but he who apprehends
them wisely will find in their conjoint operation a force impelling
him to prayer, and therefore to confidence. Only God can enable such a
Being as man to become such as He will delight in; and since He seeks
for truth within, He thereby pledges Himself to give the truth and
wisdom for which He seeks.

Meditation on the sin which was ever before the psalmist, passes into
renewed prayers for pardon, which partly reiterate those already
offered in vv. 1, 2. The petition in ver. 7 for purging with hyssop
alludes to sprinkling of lepers and unclean persons, and indicates
both a consciousness of great impurity and a clear perception of the
symbolic meaning of ritual cleansings. "Wash me" repeats a former
petition; but now the psalmist can venture to dwell more on the
thought of future purity than he could do then. The approaching answer
begins to make its brightness visible through the gloom, and it seems
possible to the suppliant that even his stained nature shall glisten
like sunlit snow. Nor does that expectation exhaust his confidence.
He hopes for "joy and gladness." His bones have been crushed--_i.e._,
his whole self has been, as it were, ground to powder by the weight
of God's hand; but restoration is possible. A penitent heart is not
too bold when it asks for joy. There is no real well-founded gladness
without the consciousness of Divine forgiveness. The psalmist closes
his petitions for pardon (ver. 9) with asking God to "hide His face
from his sins," so that they be, as it were, no more existent for
Him, and, by a repetition of the initial petition in ver. 1, for the
blotting out of "all mine iniquities."

The second principal division begins with ver. 10, and is a prayer for
purity, followed by vows of glad service. The prayer is contained in
three verses (10-12), of which the first implores complete renewal of
nature, the second beseeches that there may be no break between the
suppliant and God, and the third asks for the joy and willingness to
serve which would flow from the granting of the desires preceding.
In each verse the second clause has "spirit" for its leading word,
and the middle one of the three asks for "_Thy_ holy spirit." The
petitions themselves, and the order in which they occur, are deeply
significant, and deserve much more elucidation than can be given here.
The same profound consciousness of inward corruption which spoke in
the former part of the psalm shapes the prayer for renewal. Nothing
less than a new creation will make this man's heart "clean." His
past has taught him that. The word employed is always used of God's
creative act; and the psalmist feels that nothing less than the power
which brooded over the face of primeval chaos, and evolved thence an
ordered world, can deal with the confused ruin within himself. What
he felt that he must have is what prophets promised (Jer. xxiv. 7;
Ezek. xxxvi. 26) and Christ has brought--a new creation, in which,
while personality remains unaffected, and the components of character
continue as before, a real new life is bestowed, which stamps new
directions on affections, gives new aims, impulses, convictions, casts
out inveterate evils, and gradually changes "all but the basis of the
soul." A desire for pardon which does not unfold into such longing for
deliverance from the misery of the old self is not the offspring of
genuine penitence, but only of base fear.

"A steadfast spirit" is needful in order to keep a cleansed heart
clean; and, on the other hand, when, by cleanness of heart, a man
is freed from the perturbations of rebellious desires and the
weakening influences of sin, his spirit will be steadfast. The two
characteristics sustain each other. Consciousness of corruption
dictated the former desire; penitent recognition of weakness and
fluctuation inspires the latter. It may be observed, too, that the
triad of petitions having reference to "spirit" has for its central
one a prayer for God's Spirit, and that the other two may be regarded
as dependent on that. Where God's Spirit dwells, the human spirit in
which it abides will be firm with uncreated strength. His energy,
being infused into a tremulous, changeful humanity, will make it
stable. If we are to stand fast, we must be stayed on God.

The group of petitions in ver. 11 is negative. It deprecates a
possible tragic separation from God, and that under two aspects.
"Part me not from Thee; part not Thyself from me." The former prayer,
"Cast me not out from Thy presence," is by some explained according
to the analogy of other instances of the occurrence of the phrase,
where it means expulsion from the land of Israel; and is claimed,
thus interpreted, as a clear indication that the psalmist speaks in
the name of the nation. But however certainly the expression is thus
used elsewhere, it cannot, without introducing an alien thought, be so
interpreted in its present connection, imbedded in petitions of the
most spiritual and individual character: much rather, the psalmist
is recoiling from what he knows only too well to be the consequence
of an unclean heart--separation from God, whether in the sense of
exclusion from the sanctuary, or in the profounder sense, which is
not too deep for such a psalm, of conscious loss of the light of
God's face. He dreads being, Cain-like, shut out from that presence
which is life; and he knows that, unless his previous prayer for a
clean heart is answered, that dreary solitude of great darkness must
be his lot. The sister petition, "Take not Thy holy spirit from me,"
contemplates the union between God and him from the other side. He
regards himself as possessing that Divine spirit; for he knows that,
notwithstanding his sin, God has not left him, else he would not have
these movements of godly sorrow and yearnings for purity. There is no
reason to commit the anachronism of supposing that the psalmist had
any knowledge of New Testament teaching of a personal Divine Spirit.
But if we may suppose that he is David, this prayer has special force.
That anointing which designated and fitted him for kingly office
symbolised the gift of a Divine influence accompanying a Divine call.
If we further remember how it had fared with his predecessor, from
whom, because of impenitence, "the Spirit of the Lord departed, and
an evil spirit from the Lord troubled him," we understand how Saul's
successor, trembling as he remembers his fate, prays with peculiar
emphasis, "Take not Thy Holy Spirit from me."

The last member of the triad, in ver. 12, looks back to former
petitions, and asks for restoration of the "joy of Thy salvation,"
which had lain like dew on this man before he fell. In this connection
the supplication for joy follows on the other two, because the joy
which it desires is the result of their being granted. For what is
"Thy salvation" but the gift of a clean heart and a steadfast spirit,
the blessed consciousness of unbroken closeness of communion with God,
in which the suppliant suns himself in the beams of God's face, and
receives an uninterrupted communication of His Spirit's gifts? These
are the sources of pure joy, lasting as God Himself, and victorious
over all occasions for surface sorrow. The issue of all these gifts
will be "a willing spirit," delighting to obey, eager to serve. If
God's Spirit dwells in us, obedience will be delight. To serve God
because we must is not service. To serve Him because we had rather
do His will than anything else is the service which delights Him
and blesses us. The word rendered "willing" comes by a very natural
process, to mean nobles. God's servants are princes and lords of
everything besides, themselves included. Such obedience is freedom.
If desires flow with equable motion parallel to God's will, there is
no sense of restraint in keeping within limits beyond which we do not
desire to go. "I will walk at liberty; for I keep Thy precepts."

The last part of the psalm runs over with joyful vows--first,
of magnifying God's name (vv. 13-15), and then of offering true
sacrifices. A man who has passed through such experiences as the
psalmist's, and has received the blessings for which he prayed, cannot
be silent. The instinct of hearts touched by God's mercies is to speak
of them to others. And no man who can say "I will tell what He has
done for my soul" is without the most persuasive argument to bring
to bear on others. A piece of autobiography will touch men who are
unaffected by elaborate reasonings and deaf to polished eloquence.
The impulse and the capacity to "teach transgressors Thy ways" are
given in the experience of sin and forgiveness; and if any one has
not the former, it is questionable whether he has, in any real sense
or large measure, received the latter. The prayer for deliverance
from blood-guiltiness in ver. 14 breaks for a moment the flow of
vows; but only for a moment. It indicates how amid them the psalmist
preserved his sense of guilt, and how little he was disposed to
think lightly of the sins of whose forgiveness he had prayed himself
into the assurance. Its emergence here, like a black rock pushing
its grimness up through a sparkling, sunny sea, is no sign of doubt
whether his prayers had been answered; but it marks the abiding sense
of sinfulness, which must ever accompany abiding gratitude for pardon
and abiding holiness of heart. It seems hard to believe, as the
advocates of a national reference in the psalm are obliged to do, that
"blood-guiltiness" has no special reference to the psalmist's crime,
but is employed simply as typical of sin in general. The mention of
it finds a very obvious explanation on the hypothesis of Davidic
authorship, and a rather constrained one on any other.

Ver. 16 introduces the reason for the preceding vow of grateful praise,
as is shown by the initial "For." The psalmist will bring the sacrifices
of a grateful heart making his lips musical, because he has learned that
these, and not ritual offerings, are acceptable. The same depreciation
of external sacrifices is strongly expressed in Psalm xl. 6, and here,
as there, is not to be taken as an absolute condemnation of these, but
as setting them decisively below spiritual service. To suppose that
prophets or psalmists waged a polemic against ritual observances _per
se_ misapprehends their position entirely. They do war against "the
sacrifice of the wicked," against external acts which had no inward
reality corresponding to them, against reliance on the outward and
its undue exaltation. The authors of the later addition to this psalm
had a true conception of its drift when they appended to it, not as a
correction of a heretical tendency, but as a liturgical addition in full
harmony with its spirit, the vow to "offer whole burnt offerings on"
the restored "altar," when God should again build up Zion.

The psalmist's last words are immortal. "A heart broken and crushed, O
God, Thou wilt not despise." But they derive still deeper beauty and
pathos when it is observed that they are spoken after confession has
been answered to his consciousness by pardon, and longing for purity
by at least some bestowal of it. The "joy of Thy salvation," for which
he had prayed, has begun to flow into his heart. The "bones" which had
been "crushed" are beginning to reknit, and thrills of gladness to
steal through his frame; but still he feels that with all these happy
experiences contrite consciousness of his sin must mingle. It does not
rob his joy of one rapture, but it keeps it from becoming careless. He
goes safely who goes humbly. The more sure a man is that God has put
away the iniquity of his sin, the more should he remember it; for the
remembrance will vivify gratitude and bind close to Him without whom
there can be no steadfastness of spirit nor purity of life. The clean
heart must continue contrite, if it is not to cease to be clean.

The liturgical addition implies that Jerusalem is in ruins. It cannot
be supposed without violence to come from David. It is not needed in
order to form a completion to the psalm, which ends more impressively,
and has an inner unity and coherence, if the deep words of ver. 17 are
taken as its close.




                               PSALM LII.

  1  Why boastest thou in wickedness, O tyrant?
     God's loving-kindness lasts always.
  2  Destructions does thy tongue devise;
     Like a sharpened razor, thou framer of deceit!
  3  Thou lovest evil rather than good;
     A lie rather than speaking righteousness. Selah.

  4  Thou lovest all words that swallow men up,
     Thou deceitful tongue!
  5  So God shall break thee down for ever,
     Shall lay hold of thee and drag thee out of the tent,
     And root thee out of the land of the living. Selah.

  6  And the righteous shall see and fear,
     And at him shall they laugh.
  7  "See! the man that made not God his stronghold,
     And trusted in the abundance of his wealth,
     And felt strong in his evil desire."

  8  But I am like a flourishing olive tree in the house of God:
     I trust in the loving-kindness of God for ever and aye.
  9  I will give Thee thanks for ever, for Thou hast done [this]:
     And I will wait on Thy name before Thy favoured ones, for it is
                good.


The progress of feeling in this psalm is clear, but there is no very
distinct division into strophes, and one of the two Selahs does not
mark a transition, though it does make a pause. First, the poet, with
a few indignant and contemptuous touches, dashes on his canvas an
outline portrait of an arrogant oppressor, whose weapon was slander
and his words like pits of ruin. Then, with vehement, exulting
metaphors, he pictures his destruction. On it follow reverent awe
of God, whose justice is thereby displayed, and deepened sense in
righteous hearts of the folly of trust in anything but Him. Finally,
the singer contrasts with thankfulness his own happy continuance in
fellowship with God with the oppressor's fate, and renews his resolve
of praise and patient waiting.

The themes are familiar, and their treatment has nothing distinctive.
The portrait of the oppressor does not strike one as a likeness either
of the Edomite herdsman Doeg, with whose betrayal of David's asylum
at Nob the superscription connects the psalm, or of Saul, to whom
Hengstenberg, feeling the difficulty of seeing Doeg in it, refers it.
Malicious lies and arrogant trust in riches were not the crimes that
cried for vengeance in the bloody massacre at Nob. Cheyne would bring
this group of "Davidic" psalms (lii.-lix.) down to the Persian period
("Orig. of Psalt.," 121-23). Olshausen, after Theodore of Mopsuestia
(see Cheyne _loc. cit._) to the Maccabean. But the grounds alleged are
scarcely strong enough to carry more than the weight of a "may be";
and it is better to recognise that, if the superscription is thrown
over, the psalm itself does not yield sufficiently characteristic
marks to enable us to fix its date. It may be worth considering
whether the very absence of any obvious correspondences with David's
circumstances does not show that the superscription rested on a
tradition earlier than itself, and not on an editor's discernment.

The abrupt question at the beginning reveals the psalmist's long-pent
indignation. He has been silently brooding over the swollen arrogance
and malicious lies of the tyrant, till he can restrain himself no
longer, and out pours a fiery flood. Evil gloried in is worse than
evil done. The word rendered in the A.V. and R.V. "mighty man" is here
used in a bad sense, to indicate that he has not only a giant's power,
but uses it tyrannously, like a giant. How dramatically the abrupt
question is followed by the equally abrupt thought of the ever-during
loving-kindness of God! That makes the tyrant's boast supremely absurd,
and the psalmist's confidence reasonable, even in face of hostile power.

The prominence given to sins of speech is peculiar. We should have
expected high-handed violence rather than these. But the psalmist is
tracking the deeds to their source; and it is not so much the tyrant's
words as his love of a certain kind of words which is adduced as proof
of his wickedness. These words have two characteristics in addition to
boastfulness. They are false and destructive. They are, according to
the forcible literal meaning in ver. 4, "words of swallowing." They
are, according to the literal meaning of "destructions," in ver. 2,
"yawning gulfs." Such words lead to acts which make a tyrant. They
flow from perverted preference of evil to good. Thus the deeds of
oppression are followed up to their den and birthplace. Part of the
description of the "words" corresponds to the fatal effect of Doeg's
report; but nothing in it answers to the other part--falsehood. The
psalmist's hot indignation speaks in the triple, direct address to
the tyrant, which comes in each case like a lightning flash at the
end of a clause (vv. 1, 2, 4). In the second of these the epithet
"framing deceit" does not refer to the "sharpened razor," but to the
tyrant. If referred to the former, it weakens rather than strengthens
the metaphor, by bringing in the idea that the sharp blade misses its
proper aim, and wounds cheeks instead of shearing off hair. The Selah
of ver. 3 interrupts the description, in order to fix attention, by a
pause filled up by music, on the hideous picture thus drawn.

That description is resumed and summarised in ver. 4, which, by the
Selahs, is closely bound to ver. 5, in order to enforce the necessary
connection of sin and punishment, which is strongly underlined by
the "also" or "so" at the beginning of the latter verse. The stern
prophecy of destruction is based upon no outward signs of failure in
the oppressor's might, but wholly on confidence in God's continual
loving-kindness, which must needs assume attributes of justice when its
objects are oppressed. A tone of triumph vibrates through the imagery of
ver. 5, which is not in the same key as Christ has set for us.

It is easy for those who have never lived under grinding, godless
tyranny to reprobate the exultation of the oppressed at the sweeping
away of their oppressors; but if the critics had seen their brethren
set up as torches to light Nero's gardens, perhaps they would have
known some thrill of righteous joy when they heard that he was dead.
Three strong metaphors describe the fall of this tyrant. He is broken
down, as a building levelled with the ground. He is laid hold of, as
a coal in the fire, with tongs (for so the word means), and dragged,
as in that iron grip, out of the midst of his dwelling. He is uprooted
like a tree with all its pride of leafage. Another blast of trumpets
or clang of harps or clash of cymbals bids the listeners gaze on the
spectacle of insolent strength laid prone, and withering as it lies.

The third movement of thought (vv. 6, 7) deals with the effects of
this retribution. It is a conspicuous demonstration of God's justice
and of the folly of reliance on anything but Himself. The fear which
it produces in the "righteous" is reverential awe, not dread lest the
same should happen to them. Whether or not history and experience
teach evil men that "verily there is a God that judgeth," their
lessons are not wasted on devout and righteous souls. But this is the
tragedy of life, that its teachings are prized most by those who have
already learned them, and that those who need them most consider them
least. Other tyrants are glad when a rival is swept off the field, but
are not arrested in their own course. It is left to "the righteous" to
draw the lesson which all men should have learned. Although they are
pictured as laughing at the ruin, that is not the main effect of it.
Rather it deepens conviction, and is a "modern instance" witnessing to
the continual truth of "an old saw." There is one safe stronghold, and
only one. He who conceits himself to be strong in his own evil, and,
instead of relying on God, trusts in material resources, will sooner
or later be levelled with the ground, dragged, resisting vainly the
tremendous grasp, from his tent, and laid prostrate, as melancholy a
spectacle as a great tree blown down by tempest, with its roots turned
up to the sky and its arms with drooping leaves trailing on the ground.

A swift turn of feeling carries the singer to rejoice in the contrast
of his own lot. No uprooting does he fear. It may be questioned
whether the words "in the house of God" refer to the psalmist or
to the olive tree. Apparently there were trees in the Temple area
(Psalm xcii. 13); but the parallel in the next clause, "in the
loving-kindness of God," points to the reference of the words to the
speaker. Dwelling in enjoyment of God's fellowship, as symbolised
by and realised through presence in the sanctuary, whether it were
at Nob or in Jerusalem, he dreads no such forcible removal as had
befallen the tyrant. Communion with God is the source of flourishing
and fruitfulness, and the guarantee of its own continuance. Nothing in
the changes of outward life need touch it. The mists which lay on the
psalmist's horizon are cleared away for us, who know that "for ever
and aye" designates a proper eternity of dwelling in the higher house
and drinking the full dew of God's loving-kindness. Such consciousness
of present blessedness in communion lifts a soul to prophetic
realisation of deliverance, even while no change has occurred in
circumstances. The tyrant is still boasting; but the psalmist's
tightened hold of God enables him to see "things that are not as
though they were," and to anticipate actual deliverance by praise for
it. It is the prerogative of faith to alter tenses, and to say, Thou
hast done, when the world's grammar would say, Thou wilt do. "I will
_wait on_ Thy name" is singular, since what is done "in the presence
of Thy favoured ones" would naturally be something seen or heard by
them. The reading "I will declare" has been suggested. But surely the
attitude of patient, silent expectance implied in "wait" may very
well be conceived as maintained in the presence of, and perceptible
by, those who had like dispositions, and who would sympathise and be
helped thereby. Individual blessings are rightly used when they lead
to participation in common thankfulness and quiet trust.




                             PSALM LIII.[1]

  1  The fool says in his heart, There is no God.
     They corrupt _and_ make abominable their _iniquity_;
     There is no one doing good.
  2  _God_ looketh down from heaven upon the sons of men,
     To see if there is any having discernment seeking after God.
  3  _Each of them_ is _turned aside_; together they are become putrid;
     There is no one doing good;
     There is not even one.
  4  Do the workers of iniquity not know
     Who devour my people [as] they devour bread?
     On _God_ they do not call.
  5  There they feared a [great] fear, _where no fear was_:
     For God _has scattered the bones of him that encamps against thee_;
     _Thou hast_ put _them_ to shame; for God _has rejected them_.
  6  Oh that the salvations of Israel were come out of Zion!
     When _God_ brings back the captivity of His people,
     May Jacob exult, may Israel be glad!


In this psalm we have an Elohistic recast of Psalm xiv., differing from
its original in substituting Elohim for Jehovah (four times) and in the
language of ver. 5. There are also other slight deviations not affecting
the sense. For the exposition the reader is referred to that of Psalm
xiv. It is only necessary here to take note of the divergences.

The first of these occurs in ver. 1. The forcible rough construction
"they corrupt, they make abominable," is smoothed down by the
insertion of "and." The editor apparently thought that the loosely
piled words needed a piece of mortar to hold them together, but his
emendation weakens as well as smooths. On the other hand, he has
aimed at increased energy of expression by substituting "iniquity"
for "doings" in the same clause, which results in tautology and is no
improvement. In ver. 3 the word for "turned aside" is varied, without
substantial difference of meaning. The alteration is very slight,
affecting only one letter, and may be due to error in transcription or
to mere desire to emend. In ver. 4 "all," which in Psalm xiv. precedes
"workers of iniquity," is omitted, probably as unnecessary.

The most important changes are in ver. 5, which stands for vv. 5 and
6 of Psalm xiv. The first is the insertion of "where no fear was."
These words may be taken as describing causeless panic, or, less
probably, as having a subjective reference, and being equal to "while
in the midst of careless security." They evidently point to some fact,
possibly the destruction of Sennacherib's army. Their insertion shows
that the object of the alterations was to adapt an ancient psalm as a
hymn of triumph for recent deliverance, thus altering its application
from evil-doers within Israel to enemies without. The same purpose
is obvious in the transformations effected in the remainder of this
verse. Considerable as these are, the recast most ingeniously conforms
to the sound of the original. If we could present the two versions in
tabular form, the resemblance would appear more strikingly than we can
here bring it out. The first variation--_i.e._, "scatters" instead of
"in the generation"--is effected by reading "pizzar" for "b'dhor," a
clear case of intentional assonance. Similarly the last word of the
verse, "has rejected them," is very near in consonants and sound
to "his refuge" in Psalm xiv. 6. The like effort at retaining the
general sound of the earlier psalm runs through the whole verse.
Very significantly the complaint of the former singer is turned into
triumph by the later, who addresses the delivered Israel with "Thou
hast put them to shame," while the other psalm could but address the
"fools" with "Ye would put to shame the counsel of the afflicted." In
like manner the tremulous hope of the original, "God is his refuge,"
swells into commemoration of an accomplished fact in "God has rejected
them." The natural supposition is that some great deliverance of
Israel had just taken place, and inspired this singular attempt to
fit old words to new needs. Whatever the historical occasion may have
been, the two singers unite in one final aspiration, a sigh of longing
for the coming of Israel's full salvation, which is intensified in
the recast by being put in the plural ("salvations") instead of
the singular, as in Psalm xiv., to express the completeness and
manifoldness of the deliverance thus yearned for of old, and not yet
come in its perfection.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] Italics show variations from text of Psalm xiv.




                               PSALM LIV.

  1  O God, by Thy name save me,
     And by Thy might right me.
  2  O God, hear my prayer;
     Give ear to the words of my mouth.
  3  For strangers are risen up against me,
     And violent men seek my soul:
     They set not God before them. Selah.

  4  Behold, God is a helper for me:
     The Lord is He that sustains my soul.
  5  He will requite evil to the liers in wait for me:
     In Thy troth destroy them.
  6  Of [my own] free impulse will I sacrifice to Thee:
     I will thank Thy name, for it is good.
  7  For from all distress it has delivered me;
     And my eye has seen [its desire] on my enemies.


The tone and language of this psalm have nothing special. The
situation of the psalmist is the familiar one of being encompassed by
enemies. His mood is the familiar one of discouragement at the sight
of surrounding perils, which passes through petition into confidence
and triumph. There is nothing in the psalm inconsistent with the
accuracy of the superscription, which ascribes it to David, when the
men of Ziph would have betrayed him to Saul. Internal evidence does
not suffice to fix its date, if the traditional one is discarded. But
there seems no necessity for regarding the singer as the personified
nation, though there is less objection to that theory in this instance
than in some psalms with a more marked individuality and more fervent
expression of personal emotion, to which it is proposed to apply it.

The structure is simple, like the thought and expression. The psalm
falls into two parts, divided by Selah,--of which the former is
prayer, spreading before God the suppliant's straits; and the latter
is confident assurance, blended with petition and vows of thanksgiving.

The order in which the psalmist's thoughts run in the first part (vv.
1-3) is noteworthy. He begins with appeal to God, and summons before his
vision the characteristics in the Divine nature on which he builds his
hope. Then he pleads for the acceptance of his prayer, and only when
thus heartened does he recount his perils. That is a deeper faith which
begins with what God is, and thence proceeds to look calmly at foes,
than that which is driven to God in the second place, as a consequence
of an alarmed gaze on dangers. In the latter case fear strikes out a
spark of faith in the darkness; in the former, faith controls fear.

The name of God is His manifested nature or character, the sum of all
of Him which has been made known by His word or work. In that rich
manifoldness of living powers and splendours this man finds reserves
of force, which will avail to save him from any peril. That name is
much more than a collection of syllables. The expression is beginning
to assume the meaning which it has in post-Biblical Hebrew, where
it is used as a reverential euphemism for the ineffable Jehovah.
Especially to God's power does the singer look with hopeful petitions,
as in ver. 1 _b_. But the whole name is the agent of his salvation.
Nothing less than the whole fulness of the manifested God is enough
for the necessities of one poor man; and that prayer is not too
bold, nor that estimate of need presumptuous, which asks for nothing
less. Since it is God's "might" which is appealed to, to judge the
psalmist's cause, the judgment contemplated is clearly not the Divine
estimate of the moral desert of his doings, or retribution to him for
these, but the vindication of his threatened innocence and deliverance
of him from enemies. The reason for the prayer is likewise alleged as
a plea with God to hear. The psalmist prays because he is ringed about
by foes. God will hear because He is so surrounded. It is blessed to
know that the same circumstances in our lot which drive us to God
incline God to us.

"Strangers," in ver. 3, would most naturally mean foreigners, but
not necessarily so. The meaning would naturally pass into that of
enemies--men who, even though of the psalmist's own blood, behave
to him in a hostile manner. The word, then, does not negative the
tradition in the superscription; though the men of Ziph belonged to
the tribe of Judah, they might still be called "strangers." The verse
recurs in Psalm lxxxvi. 14, with a variation of reading--namely,
"proud" instead of "strangers." The same variation is found here in
some MSS. and in the Targum. But probably it has crept in here in
order to bring our psalm into correspondence with the other, and it
is better to retain the existing reading, which is that of the LXX.
and other ancient authorities. The psalmist has no doubt that to hunt
after his life is a sign of godlessness. The proof that violent men
have not "set God before them" is the fact that they "seek his soul."
That is a remarkable assumption, resting upon a very sure confidence
that he is in such relation to God that enmity to him is sin. The
theory of a national reference would make such identification of the
singer's cause with God's most intelligible. But the theory that he is
an individual, holding a definite relation to the Divine purposes and
being for some end a Divine instrument, would make it quite as much
so. And if David, who knew that he was destined to be king, was the
singer, his confidence would be natural. The history represents that
his Divine appointment was sufficiently known to make hostility to
him a manifest indication of rebellion against God. The unhesitating
fusion of his own cause with God's could scarcely have been ventured
by a psalmist, however vigorous his faith, if all that he had to go
on and desired to express was a devout soul's confidence that God
would protect him. That may be perfectly and yet it may not follow
that opposition to a man is godlessness. We cannot regard ourselves as
standing in such a relation; but we may be sure that the name, with
all its glories, is mighty to save us too.

Prayer is, as so often in the Psalter, followed by immediately
deepened assurance of victory. The suppliant rises from his knees,
and points the enemies round him to his one Helper. In ver. 4 _b_ a
literal rendering would mislead. "The Lord is among the upholders of
my soul" seems to bring God down to a level on which others stand.
The psalmist does not mean this, but that God gathers up in Himself,
and that supremely, the qualities belonging to the conception of an
upholder. It is, in form, an inclusion of God in a certain class. It
is, in meaning, the assertion that He is the only true representative
of the class. Commentators quote Jephthah's plaintive words to his
daughter as another instance of the idiom: "Alas, my daughter, ...
thou art one of them that trouble me"--_i.e._, my greatest troubler.
That one thought, vivified into new power by the act of prayer, is the
psalmist's all-sufficient buckler, which he plants between himself and
his enemies, bidding them "behold." Strong in the confidence that has
sprung in his heart anew, he can look forward in the certainty that
his adversaries (lit. _those who lie in wait for me_) will find their
evil recoiling on themselves. The reading of the Hebrew text is, _Evil
shall return to_; that of the Hebrew margin, adopted by the A.V. and
R.V., is, _He shall requite evil to_. The meanings are substantially
the same, only that the one makes the automatic action of retribution
more prominent, while the other emphasises God's justice in inflicting
it. The latter reading gives increased force to the swift transition
to prayer in ver. 5 _b_.

That petition is, like others in similar psalms, proper to the spiritual
level of the Old Testament, and not to that of the New; and it is far
more reverent, as well as accurate, to recognise fully the distinction
than to try to slur it over. At the same time, it is not to be forgotten
that the same lofty consciousness of the identity of his cause with
God's, which we have already had to notice, operating here in these
wishes for the enemies' destruction, gives another aspect to them than
that of mere outbursts of private vengeance. That higher aspect is
made prominent by the addition "in Thy troth." God's faithfulness to
His purposes and promises was concerned in the destruction, because
these were pledged to the psalmist's protection. His well-being was so
intertwined with God's promises that the Divine faithfulness demanded
the sweeping away of his foes. That is evidently not the language which
fits our lips. It implies a special relation to God's plans, and it
modifies the character of this apparently vindictive prayer.

The closing verses of this simple, little psalm touch very familiar
notes. The faith which has prayed has grown so sure of answer that
it already begins to think of the thank-offerings. This is not
like the superstitious vow, "I will give so-and-so if Jupiter"--or
the Virgin--"will hear me." This praying man knows that he is
heard, and is not so much vowing as joyfully anticipating his glad
sacrifice. The same incipient personification of the name as in ver.
1 is very prominent in the closing strains. Thank-offerings--not
merely statutory and obligatory, but brought by free, uncommanded
impulse--are to be offered to "Thy name," because that name is
good. Ver. 7 probably should be taken as going even further in the
same direction of personification, for "Thy name" is probably to be
taken as the subject of "hath delivered." The tenses of the verbs
in ver. 7 are perfects. They contemplate the deliverance as already
accomplished. Faith sees the future as present. This psalmist,
surrounded by strangers seeking his life, can quietly stretch out a
hand of faith, and bring near to himself the to-morrow when he will
look back on scattered enemies and present, glad sacrifices! That
power of drawing a brighter future into a dark present belongs not to
those who build anticipations on wishes, but to those who found their
forecasts on God's known purpose and character. _The name_ is a firm
foundation for hope. There is no other.

The closing words express confidence in the enemies' defeat and
destruction, with a tinge of feeling that is not permissible to
Christians. But the supplement, "my desire," is perhaps rather too
strongly expressive of wish for their ruin. Possibly there needs no
supplement at all, and the expression simply paints the calm security
of the man protected by God, who can "look upon" impotent hostility
without the tremor of an eyelid, because he knows who is his Helper.




                               PSALM LV.

   1  Give ear, O God, to my prayer;
      And hide not Thyself from my entreaty.
   2  Attend unto me, and answer me:
      I am distracted as I muse, and must groan;
   3  For the voice of [my] enemy,
      On account of the oppression of the wicked;
      For they fling down iniquity upon me,
      And in wrath they are hostile to me.
   4  My heart writhes within me:
      And terrors of death have fallen upon me.
   5  Fear and trembling come upon me,
      Horror wraps me round.
   6  Then I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove!
      I would fly away, and [there] abide.
   7  Lo, then would I migrate far away,
      I would lodge in the wilderness. Selah.
   8  I would hasten my escape
      From stormy wind and tempest.

   9  Swallow [them up], Lord; confuse their tongue:
      For I see violence and strife in the city.
  10  Day and night they go their rounds upon her walls:
      And iniquity and mischief are in her midst.
  11  Destructions are in her midst:
      And from her open market-place depart not oppression and deceit.
  12  For it is not an enemy that reviles me--that I could bear:
      It is not my hater that magnifies himself against me--from him I
                could shelter myself:
  13  But it is thou, a man my equal,
      My companion, and my familiar friend.
  14  We who together used to make familiar intercourse sweet,
      And walked to the house of God with the crowd.
  15  Desolations [fall] on them!
      May they go down alive to Sheol!
      For wickednesses are in their dwelling, in their midst.

  16  As for me, I will cry to God;
      And Jehovah will save me.
  17  Evening, and morning, and noon will I muse and groan:
      And He will hear my voice.
  18  He has redeemed my soul in peace, so that they come not near me
      For in great numbers were they round me.
  19  God will hear, and answer them--
      Even He that sitteth throned from of old-- Selah.
      Them who have no changes
      And who fear not God.
  20  He has laid his hands on those who were at peace with him:
      He has broken his covenant.
  21  Smooth are the buttery words of his mouth,
      But his heart is war:
      Softer are his words than oil,
      Yet are they drawn swords.
  22  Cast upon Jehovah thy burden,
      And He, He will hold thee up:
      He will never let the righteous be moved.
  23  But Thou, O God, shall bring them down to the depth of the pit:
      Men of blood and deceit shall not attain half their days;
      But as for me, I will trust in Thee.


The situation of the psalmist has a general correspondence with that
of David in the period of Absalom's rebellion, and the identification
of the traitorous friend with Ahithophel is naturally suggested. But
there are considerable difficulties in the way of taking that view. The
psalmist is evidently in the city, from which he longs to escape; but
Ahithophel's treachery was not known to David till after his flight.
Would a king have described his counsellor, however trusted, as "a man
my equal"? The doubt respecting the identity of the traitor, however,
does not seriously militate against the ordinary view of the date and
occasion of the psalm, if we suppose that it belongs to the period
immediately before the outburst of the conspiracy, when David was still
in Jerusalem, but seeing the treason growing daily bolder, and already
beginning to contemplate flight. The singularly passive attitude which
he maintained during the years of Absalom's plotting was due to his
consciousness of guilt and his submission to punishment. Hitzig ascribes
the psalm to Jeremiah, principally on the ground of the resemblance of
the prophet's wish for a lodge in the wilderness (Jer. ix. 2) to the
psalmist's yearning in vv. 6-8. Cheyne brings it down to the Persian
period; Olshausen, to the Maccabean. The Davidic authorship has at least
as much to say for itself as any of these conjectures.

The psalm may be regarded as divided into three parts, in each of which
a different phase of agitated feeling predominates, but not exclusively.
Strong excitement does not marshal emotions or their expression
according to artistic proprieties of sequence, and this psalm is all
ablaze with it. That vehemence of emotion sufficiently accounts for both
the occasional obscurities and the manifest want of strict accuracy in
the flow of thought, without the assumption of dislocation of parts or
piecing it with a fragment of another psalm. When the heart is writhing
within, and tumultuous feelings are knocking at the door of the lips,
the words will be troubled and heaped together, and dominant thoughts
will repeat themselves in defiance of logical continuity. But, still,
complaint and longing sound through the waning, yearning notes of vv.
1-8; hot indignation and terrible imprecations in the stormy central
portion (vv. 9-15); and a calmer note of confidence and hope, through
which, however, the former indignation surges up again, is audible in
the closing verses (vv. 16-23).

The psalmist pictures his emotions in the first part, with but one
reference to their cause, and but one verse of petition. He begins,
indeed, with asking that his prayer may be heard; and it is well when
a troubled heart can raise itself above the sea of troubles to stretch
a hand towards God. Such an effort of faith already prophesies firm
footing on the safe shore. But very pathetic and true to the experience
of many a sorrowing heart is the psalmist's immediately subsequent
dilating on his griefs. There is a dumb sorrow, and there is one which
unpacks its heart in many words and knows not when to stop. The psalmist
is _distracted_ in his bitter brooding on his troubles. The word means
to move restlessly, and may either apply to body or mind, perhaps to
both; for Eastern demonstrativeness is not paralysed, but stimulated to
bodily tokens, by sorrow. He can do nothing but groan or moan. His heart
"writhes" in him. Like an avalanche, deadly terrors have fallen on him
and crushed him. Fear and trembling have pierced into his inner being,
and "horror" (a rare word, which the LXX. here renders _darkness_) wraps
him round or covers him, as a cloak does. It is not so much the pressure
of present evil, as the shuddering anticipation of a heavier storm about
to burst, which is indicated by these pathetic expressions. The cause of
them is stated in a single verse (3). "The voice of the enemy" rather
than his hand is mentioned first, since threats and reproaches precede
assaults; and it is budding, not full-blown, enmity which is in view.
In ver. 3 _b_ "oppression" is an imperfect parallelism with "voice,"
and the conjectural emendation (which only requires the prefixing of
a letter) of "cries," adopted by Cheyne, after Olshausen and others,
is tempting. They "fling down iniquity" on him as rocks are hurled or
rolled from a height on invaders--a phrase which recalls David's words
to his servants, urging flight before Absalom, "lest he bring down evil
upon us."

Then, from out of all this plaintive description of the psalmist's
agitation and its causes, starts up that immortal strain which answers
to the deepest longings of the soul, and has touched responsive chords
in all whose lives are not hopelessly outward and superficial--the
yearning for repose. It may be ignoble, or lofty and pure; it may mean
only cowardice or indolence; but it is deepest in those who stand most
unflinchingly at their posts, and crush it down at the command of
duty. Unless a soul knows that yearning for a home in stillness, "afar
from the sphere of our sorrow," it will remain a stranger to many high
and noble things. The psalmist was moved to utter this longing by his
painful consciousness of encompassing evils; but the longing is more
than a desire for exemption from these. It is the cry of the homeless
soul, which, like the dove from the ark, finds no resting-place in a
world full of carrion, and would fain return whence it came. "O God,
Thou hast made us for Thyself, and we are unquiet till we find rest
in Thee." No obligation of duty keeps migratory birds in a land where
winter is near. But men are better than birds, because they have other
things to think of than repose, and must face, not flee, storms and
hurricanes. It is better to have wings "like birds of tempest-loving
kind," and to beat up against the wind, than to outfly it in retreat.
So the psalmist's wish was but a wish; and he, like the rest of us,
had to stand to his post, or be tied to his stake, and let enemies
and storms do their worst. The LXX. has a striking reading of ver. 8,
which Cheyne has partially adopted. It reads for ver. 8 _a_ "waiting
for Him who saves me"; but beautiful as this is, as giving the picture
of the restful fugitive in patient expectation, it brings an entirely
new idea into the picture, and blends metaphor and fact confusedly.
The Selah at the close of ver. 7 deepens the sense of still repose by
a prolonged instrumental interlude.

The second part turns from subjective feelings to objective facts. A
cry for help and a yearning for a safe solitude were natural results
of the former; but when the psalmist's eye turns to his enemies, a
flash of anger lights it, and, instead of the meek longings of the
earlier verses, prayers for their destruction are vehemently poured
out. The state of things in the city corresponds to what must have
been the condition of Jerusalem during the incubation of Absalom's
conspiracy, but is sufficiently general to fit any time of strained
party feeling. The caldron simmers, ready to boil over. The familiar
evils, of which so many psalms complain, are in full vigour. The
psalmist enumerates them with a wealth of words which indicates
their abundance. Violence, strife, iniquity, mischief, oppression,
and deceit--a goodly company to patrol the streets and fill the open
places of the city! Ver. 10 _a_ is sometimes taken as carrying on the
personification of Violence and Strife in ver. 9, by painting these as
going their rounds on the walls, like sentries; but it is better to
suppose that the actual foes are meant, and that they are keeping up a
strict watch to prevent the psalmist's escape.

Several commentators consider that the burst of indignation against
the psalmist's traitorous friend in vv. 12-14 interrupts the sequence,
and propose rearrangements by which vv. 20, 21, will be united
with vv. 12-14, and placed either before ver. 6 or after ver. 15.
But the very abruptness with which the thought of the traitor is
interjected here, and in the subsequent reference to him, indicates
how the singer's heart was oppressed by the treason; and the return
to the subject in ver. 20 is equally significant of his absorbed
and pained brooding on the bitter fact. That is a slight pain which
is removed by one cry. Rooted griefs, overwhelming sorrows, demand
many repetitions. Trouble finds ease in tautology. It is absurd to
look for cool, logical sequence in such a heart's cry as this psalm.
Smooth continuity would be most unnatural. The psalmist feels that
the defection of his false friend is the worst blow of all. He could
have braced himself to bear an enemy's reviling; he could have found
weapons to repel, or a shelter in which to escape from, open foes; but
the baseness which forgets all former sweet companionship in secret,
and all association in public and in worship, is more than he can bear
up against. The voice of wounded love is too plain in the words for
the hypothesis that the singer is the personified nation. Traitors are
too common to allow of a very confident affirmation that the psalm
must point to Ahithophel, and the description of the perfidious friend
as the _equal_ of the psalmist does not quite fit that case.

As he thinks of all the sweetness of past intimacy, turned to gall
by such dastardly treachery, his anger rises. The description of
the city and of the one enemy in whom all its wickedness is, as it
were, concentrated, is framed in a terrible circlet of prayers for
the destruction of the foes. Ver. 9 _a_ begins and ver. 15 ends this
part with petitions which do not breathe the spirit of "Father,
forgive them." There may be a reference to the confusion of tongues
at Babel in the prayer of ver. 9. As then the impious work was
stopped by mutual unintelligibility, so the psalmist desires that
his enemies' machinations may be paralysed in like manner. In ver.
15 the translation "desolations" follows the Hebrew text, while
the alternative and in some respects preferable reading "May death
come suddenly" follows the Hebrew marginal correction. There are
difficulties in both, and the correction does not so much smooth the
language as to be obviously an improvement. The general sense is
clear, whichever reading is preferred. The psalmist is calling down
destruction on his enemies; and while the fact that he is in some
manner an organ of the Divine purpose invests hostility to him with
the darker character of rebellion against God, and therefore modifies
the personal element in the prayer, it still remains a plain instance
of the lower level on which the Old Testament saints and singers
stood, when compared with the "least in the kingdom of heaven."

The third part of the psalm returns to gentler tones of devotion and
trust. The great name of Jehovah appears here significantly. To that
ever-living One, the Covenant God, will the psalmist cry, in assurance
of answer. "Evening, and morning, and noon" designate the whole day by
its three principal divisions, and mean, in effect, continually. Happy
are they who are impelled to unintermitting prayer by the sight of
unslumbering enmity! Enemies may go their rounds "day and night," but
they will do little harm, if the poor, hunted man, whom they watch so
closely, lifts his cries to Heaven "evening, and morning, and noon."
The psalmist goes back to his first words. He had begun by saying that
he was distracted as he mused, and could do nothing but groan, and in
ver. 17 he repeats that he will still do so. Has he, then, won nothing
by his prayer but the prolongation of his first dreary tone of feeling?
He has won this--that his musing is not accompanied by distraction, and
that his groaning is not involuntary expression of pain, but articulate
prayer, and therefore accompanied by the confidence of being heard.
Communion with God and prayerful trust in his help do not at once end
sadness and sobbing, but do change their character and lighten the
blackness of grief. This psalmist, like so many of his fellows, realises
deliverance before he experiences it, and can sing "He has redeemed my
soul" even while the calamity lasts. "They come not near me," says he.
A soul hidden in God has an invisible defence which repels assaults. As
with a man in a diving-bell, the sea may press on the crystal walls, but
cannot crush them in or enter, and there is safe, dry lodging inside,
while sea billows and monsters are without, close to the diver and yet
far from him.

Ver. 19 is full of difficulty, and most probably has suffered some
textual corruption. To "hear and answer" is uniformly an expression
for gracious hearing and beneficent answering. Here it can only mean
the opposite, or must be used ironically. God will hear the enemies'
threats, and will requite them. Various expedients have been suggested
for removing the difficulty. It has been proposed to read "me" for
"them," which would bring everything into order--only that, then, the
last clauses of the verse, which begin with a relative ("who have no
changes," etc.), would want an antecedent. It has been proposed to
read "will humble them" for "will answer them," which is the LXX.
translation. That requires a change in the vowels of the verb, and
"answer" is more probable than "humble" after "hear." Cheyne follows
Olshausen in supposing that "the cry of the afflicted" has dropped out
after "hear." The construction of ver. 19 _b_ is anomalous, as the
clause is introduced by a superfluous "and," which may be a copyist's
error. The Selah attached is no less anomalous. It is especially
difficult to explain, in view of the relative which begins the third
clause, and which would otherwise be naturally brought into close
connection with the "them," the objects of the verbs in _a_. These
considerations lead Hupfeld to regard ver. 19 as properly ending
with Selah, and the remaining clauses as out of place, and properly
belonging to ver. 15 or 18; while Cheyne regards the alternative
supposition that they are a fragment of another psalm as possible.
There is probably some considerable corruption of the text, not now
to be remedied; but the existing reading is at least capable of
explanation and defence. The principal difficulty in the latter part
of ver. 19 is the meaning of the word rendered "changes." The persons
spoken of are those whom God will hear and answer in His judicial
character, in which He has been throned from of old. Their not having
"changes" is closely connected with their not fearing God. The word is
elsewhere used for changes of raiment, or for the relief of military
guards. Calvin and others take the changes intended to be vicissitudes
of fortune, and hence draw the true thought that unbroken prosperity
tends to forgetfulness of God. Others take the changes to be those of
mind or conduct from evil to good, while others fall back upon the
metaphor of relieving guard, which they connect with the picture in
ver. 10 of the patrols on the walls, so getting the meaning "they have
no cessation in their wicked watchfulness." It must be acknowledged
that none of these meanings is quite satisfactory; but probably
the first, which expresses the familiar thought of the godlessness
attendant on uninterrupted prosperity, is best.

Then follows another reference to the traitorous friend, which, by
its very abruptness, declares how deep is the wound he has inflicted.
The psalmist does not stand alone. He classes with himself those who
remained faithful to him. The traitor has not yet thrown off his mask,
though the psalmist has penetrated his still retained disguise. He
comes with smooth words; but, in the vigorous language of ver. 21,
"his heart is war." The fawning softness of words known to be false
cuts into the heart, which had trusted and knows itself betrayed, more
sharply than keen steel.

Ver. 22 has been singularly taken as the smooth words which cut so deep;
but surely that is a very strained interpretation. Much rather does
the psalmist exhort himself and all who have the same bitterness to
taste, to commit themselves to Jehovah. What is it which he exhorts us
to cast on Him? The word employed is used here only, and its meaning is
therefore questionable. The LXX. and others translate "care." Others,
relying on Talmudic usage, prefer "burden," which is appropriate to the
following promise of being held erect. Others (Hupfeld, etc.) would
read "that which He has given thee." The general sense is clear, and
the faith expressed in both exhortation and appended promise has been
won by the singer through his prayer. He is counselling and encouraging
himself. The spirit has to spur the "soul" to heroisms of faith and
patience. He is declaring a universal truth. However crushing our loads
of duty or of sorrow, we receive strength to carry them with straight
backs, if we cast them on Jehovah. The promise is not that He will
take away the pressure, but that He will hold us up under it; and,
similarly, the last clause declares that the righteous will not be
allowed to stumble. Faith is mentioned before righteousness. The two
must go together; for trust which is not accompanied and manifested by
righteousness is no true trust, and righteousness which is not grounded
in trust is no stable or real righteousness.

The last verse sums up the diverse fates of the "men of blood and
deceit" and of the psalmist. The terrible prayers of the middle portion
of the psalm have wrought the assurance of their fulfilment, just as the
cries of faith have brought the certainty of theirs. So the two closing
verses of the psalm turn both parts of the earlier petitions into
prophecies; and over against the trustful, righteous psalmist, standing
erect and unmoved, there is set the picture of the "man of blood and
deceit," chased down the black <DW72>s to the depths of destruction by
the same God whose hand holds up the man that trusts in Him. It is a
dreadful contrast, and the spirit of the whole psalm is gathered into
it. The last clause of all makes "I" emphatic. It expresses the final
resolution which springs in the singer's heart in view of that dread
picture of destruction and those assurances of support. He recoils
from the edge of the pit, and eagerly opens his bosom for the promised
blessing. Well for us if the upshot of all our meditations on the
painful riddle of this unintelligible world, and of all our burdens and
of all our experiences and of our observation of other men's careers, is
the absolute determination, "As for me, I will trust in Jehovah!"




                               PSALM LVI.

   1  Be gracious to me, O God; for man would swallow me up:
      All day the fighting oppresses me.
   2  My liers-in-wait would swallow me up all the day:
      For many proudly fight against me.
   3  [In] the day [when] I fear,
      I will trust in Thee.
                4  In God do I praise His word:
                   In God do I trust, I will not fear;
                   What can flesh do to me?

   5  All day they wrest my words;
      All their thoughts are against me for evil.
   6  They gather together, they set spies,
      They mark my steps,
      Even as they have waited for my soul.
   7  Shall there be escape for them because of iniquity?
      In anger cast down the peoples, O God.
   8  My wanderings hast Thou reckoned:
      Put Thou my tears into Thy bottle;
      Are they not in Thy reckoning?
   9  Then shall my enemies turn back in the day [when] I call:
      This I know, that God is for me (_or_ mine).
               10  In God will I praise the word:
                   In Jehovah will I praise the word.
               11  In God have I trusted, I will not fear;
                   What can man do to me?

  12  Upon me, O God, are Thy vows:
      I will requite praises to Thee.
  13  For Thou hast delivered my soul from death:
      Hast Thou not delivered my feet from stumbling?
      That I may walk before God in the light of the living.


The superscription dates this psalm from the time of David's being
in Gath. Probably his first stay there is meant, during which he had
recourse to feigned insanity in order to secure his safety. What a
contrast between the seeming idiot scrabbling on the walls and the
saintly singer of this lovely song of purest trust! But striking as the
contrast is, it is not too violent to be possible. Such heroic faith
might lie very near such employment of pardonable dissimulation, even if
the two moods of feeling can scarcely have been contemporaneous. Swift
transitions characterise the poetic temperament; and, alas! fluctuations
of courage and faith characterise the devout soul. Nothing in the psalm
specially suggests the date assigned in the superscription; but, as we
have already had occasion to remark, that may be an argument for, not
against, the correctness of the superscription.

The psalm is simple in structure. Like others ascribed to David during
the Sauline period, it has a refrain, which divides it into two parts;
but these are of substantially the same purport, with the difference
that the second part enlarges the description of the enemies'
assaults, and rises to confident anticipation of their defeat. In that
confidence the singer adds a closing expression of thankfulness for
the deliverance already realised in faith.

The first part begins with that significant contrast which is the
basis of all peaceful fronting of a hostile world or any evil. On one
side stands man, whose very name here suggests feebleness, and on the
other is God. "Man" in ver. 1 is plainly a collective. The psalmist
masses the foes, whom he afterwards individualises and knows only
too well to be a multitude, under that generic appellation, which
brings out their inherent frailty. Be they ever so many, still they
all belong to the same class, and an infinite number of nothings
only sums up into nothing. The Divine Unit is more than all these.
The enemy is said to "pant after" the psalmist, as a wild beast
open-mouthed and ready to devour; or, according to others, the word
means to _crush_. The thing meant by the strong metaphor is given in
ver. 1 _b_. 2; namely, the continual hostile activity of the foe. The
word rendered "proudly" is literally "on high," and Baethgen suggests
that the literal meaning should be retained. He supposes that the
antagonists "held an influential position in a princely court." Even
more literally the word may describe the enemies as occupying a post
of vantage, from which they shower down missiles.

One brief verse, the brevity of which gives it emphasis, tells of
the singer's fears, and of how he silences them by the dead lift of
effort by which he constrains himself to trust. It is a strangely
shallow view which finds a contradiction in this utterance, which all
hearts, that have ever won calmness in agitation and security amid
encompassing dangers by the same means, know to correspond to their
own experience. If there is no fear, there is little trust. The two
do co-exist. The eye that takes in only visible facts on the earthly
level supplies the heart with abundant reasons for fear. But it rests
with ourselves whether we shall yield to those, or whether, by lifting
our eyes higher and fixing the vision on the Unseen and on Him who is
invisible, we shall call such an ally to our side as shall make fear
and doubt impossible. We have little power of directly controlling
fear or any other feeling, but we can determine the objects on which
we shall fix attention. If we choose to look at "man," we shall be
unreasonable if we do not fear; if we choose to look at God, we shall
be more unreasonable if we do not trust. The one antagonist of fear
is faith. Trust is a voluntary action for which we are responsible.

The frequent use of the phrase "In the day when" is noticeable. It
occurs in each verse of the first part, excepting the refrain. The
antagonists are continually at work, and the psalmist, on his part,
strives to meet their machinations and to subdue his own fears with
as continuous a faith. The phrase recurs in the second part in a
similar connection. Thus, then, the situation as set forth in the
first part has three elements,--the busy malice of the foes; the
effort of the psalmist, his only weapon against them, to hold fast his
confidence; and the power and majesty of God, who will be gracious
when besought. The refrain gathers up these three in a significantly
different order. The preceding verses arranged them thus--God, man,
the trusting singer. The refrain puts them thus--God, the trusting
singer, man. When the close union between a soul and God is clearly
seen and inwardly felt, the importance of the enemies dwindles.
When faith is in the act of springing up, God, the refuge, and man,
the source of apprehension, stand over against each other, and the
suppliant, looking on both, draws near to God. But when faith has
fruited, the believing soul is coupled so closely to the Divine
Object of its faith, that He and it are contemplated as joined in
blessed reciprocity of protection and trust, and enemies are in an
outer region, where they cannot disturb its intercourse with its God.
The order of thought in the refrain is also striking. First, the
singer praises God's word. By God's gracious help he knows that he
will receive the fulfilment of God's promises (not necessarily any
special "word," such as the promise of a throne to David). And then,
on the experience of God's faithfulness thus won, is reared a further
structure of trust, which completely subdues fear. This is the reward
of the effort after faith which the psalmist made. He who begins with
determining not to fear will get such tokens of God's troth that fear
will melt away like a cloud, and he will find his sky cleared, as the
nightly heavens are swept free of cloud-rack by the meek moonlight.

The second part covers the same ground. Trust, like love, never finds
it grievous to write the same things. There is delight, and there is
strengthening for the temper of faith, in repeating the contemplation
of the earthly facts which make it necessary, and the super-sensuous
facts which make it blessed. A certain expansion of the various parts
of the theme, as compared with the first portion of the psalm, is
obvious. Again the phrase "all the day" occurs in reference to the
unwearying hostility which dogs the singer. "They wrest my words" may
be, as Cheyne prefers, "They torture me with words." That rendering
would supply a standing feature of the class of psalms to which this
belongs. The furtive assembling, the stealthy setting of spies who
watch his steps (lit. _heels_, as ready to spring on him from behind),
are no new things, but are in accordance with what has long been the
enemies' practice.

Ver. 7 brings in a new element not found in the first part--namely,
the prayer for the destruction of these unwearied watchers. Its first
clause is obscure. If the present text is adhered to, the rendering of
the clause as a question is best. A suggested textual correction has
been largely adopted by recent commentators, which by a very slight
alteration gives the meaning "For their iniquity requite them." The
alteration, however, is not necessary, and the existing text may be
retained, though the phrase is singular. The introduction of a prayer
for a world-wide judgment in the midst of so intensely individual a
psalm is remarkable, and favours the theory that the afflicted man
of the psalm is really the nation; but it may be explained on the
ground that, as in Psalm vii. 8, the judgment on behalf of one man is
contemplated as only one smaller manifestation of the same judicial
activity which brings about the universal judgment. This single
reference to the theme which fills so considerable a part of the other
psalms of this class is in harmony with the whole tone of this gem
of quiet faith, which is too much occupied with the blessedness of
its own trust to have many thoughts of the end of others. It passes,
therefore, quickly, to dwell on yet another phase of that blessedness.

The tender words of ver. 8 need little elucidation. They have brought
comfort to many, and have helped to dry many tears. How the psalmist
presses close to God, and how sure he is of His gentle care and love!
"Thou reckonest my wandering." The thought is remarkable, both in its
realisation of God's individualising relation to the soul that trusts
Him, and as in some degree favouring the Davidic authorship. The
hunted fugitive feels that every step of his weary interlacing tracks,
as he stole from point to point as danger dictated, was known to God.
The second clause of the verse is thought by prosaic commentators
to interrupt the sequence, because it interjects a petition between
two statements; but surely nothing is more natural than such an
"interruption." What a lovely figure is that of God's treasuring up
His servants' tears in His "bottle," the skin in which liquids were
kept! What does He keep them for? To show how precious they are in His
sight, and perhaps to suggest that they are preserved for a future
use. The tears that His children shed and give to Him to keep cannot
be tears of rebellious or unmeasured weeping, and will be given back
one day to those who shed them, converted into refreshment, by the
same Power which of old turned water into wine.

          "Think not thou canst weep a tear,
           And thy Maker is not near."

Not only in order to minister retribution to those who inflicted them,
but also in order to give recompense of gladness to weepers, are these
tears preserved by God; and the same idea is repeated by the other
metaphor of ver. 8 _c_. God's book, or reckoning, contains the count
of all the tears as well as wanderings of His servant. The certainty
that it is so is expressed by the interrogative form of the clause.

The "then" of ver. 9 may be either temporal or logical. It may mean
"things being so," or "in consequence of this," or it may mean "at
the time when," and may refer to the further specification of period
in the next clause. That same day which has already been designated
as that of the enemies' panting after the psalmist's life, and
wresting of his words, and, on the other hand, as that of his fear,
is now the time of his prayer, and consequently of their defeat and
flight. The confidence which struggled with fear in the closing
words of the first part, is now consolidated into certain knowledge
that God is on the singer's side, and in a very deep sense belongs
to him. This is the foundation of his hope of deliverance; and in
this clear knowledge he chants once more his refrain. As is often the
case, slight differences, mainly due to artistic love of variety in
uniformity, occur in the repeated refrain. "Word" stands instead of
"His word"; "man," instead of "flesh"; and a line is intercalated,
in which Jehovah is substituted for God. The addition may be a later
interpolation, but is probably part of the original text, and due to
the same intelligible motives which prompted the occasional use of the
great Covenant Name in the Elohistic psalms of this second book.

The psalmist's exuberant confidence overflows the limits of his
song, in a closing couple of verses which are outside its scheme.
So sure is he of deliverance, that, as often in similar psalms, his
thoughts are busied in preparing his sacrifice of thanks before
the actual advent of the mercy for which it is to be offered. Such
swift-footed Gratitude is the daughter of very vivid Faith. The ground
of the thankoffering is deliverance of "the soul," for which foes
have "waited." "Thou hast delivered" is a perfect tense expressing
confidence in the certainty of the as yet unrealised exercise of God's
power. The question of ver. 13 _b_, like that of ver. 8 _c_ (and
perhaps that of ver. 7 _a_), is an emphatic affirmation, and the verb
to be supplied is not "Wilt thou?" as the A.V. has it, but, as is
plain from the context, and from the quotation of this verse in Psalm
cxvi. 8, "Hast thou?" The Divine deliverance is complete,--not only
doing the greater, but also the less; and not barely saving life, but
sustaining the steps. God does not rescue by halves, either in the
natural or spiritual realm; but in the former He first rescues and
next preserves, and in the latter He delivers from the true death of
the spirit, and then inspires to glad obedience. The psalm crowns
its celebration of God's miracles of deliverance by declaring the aim
of them all to be that their recipient may walk before God--_i.e._,
in continual consciousness of His cognisance of his deeds, and "in
the light of the living" or "of life." The expression seems here to
mean simply the present life, as contrasted with the darkness and
inactivity of Sheol; but we can scarcely help remembering the deeper
meaning given to it by Him who said that to follow Him was to have
the light of life. Whether any dim foreboding of a better light
than streams from even an Eastern sun, and of a truer life than the
vain shadow which men call by that august name, floated before the
singer or not, we can thankfully interpret his words, so as to make
them the utterance of the Christian consciousness that the ultimate
design of all God's deliverances of souls from death and of feet
from falling is that, not only in ways of holiness here, but in the
more perfect consciousness of His greater nearness hereafter, and in
correspondingly increased perfectness of active service, we should
walk before God in the light of the living.




                              PSALM LVII.

   1  Be gracious to me, O God, be gracious to me;
      For in Thee has my soul taken refuge:
      And in the shadow of Thy wings will I take refuge,
      Until the [tempest of] destructions is gone by.
   2  I will cry to God Most High;
      To God who accomplishes for me.
   3  He will send from heaven, and save me;
      [For] He that would swallow me up blasphemes. Selah.
      God shall send His Loving-kindness and His Troth.
   4  My soul is among lions;
      I must lie down among those who breathe out fire--
      Sons of men, whose teeth are spear and arrows,
      Their tongue a sharp sword.
   5  Exalt Thyself above the heavens, O God,
      Above all the earth Thy glory.

   6  A net have they prepared for my steps:
      They have bowed down my soul:
      They have digged before me a pit;
      They have fallen into the midst of it. Selah.
   7  Steadfast is my heart, O God, steadfast is my heart:
      I will sing and harp.
   8  Awake, my glory; awake, harp and lute:
      I will wake the dawn.
   9  I will give Thee thanks among the peoples, O Lord:
      I will harp to Thee among the nations.
  10  For great unto the heavens is Thy Loving-kindness,
      And unto the clouds Thy Troth.
  11  Exalt Thyself above the heavens, O God,
      Above all the earth Thy glory.


This psalm resembles the preceding in the singer's circumstances of
peril and in his bold faith. It has also points of contact in the cry,
"Be gracious," and in the remarkable expression for enemies, "Those
that would swallow me up." It has also several features in common with
the other psalms ascribed by the superscriptions to the time of the
Sauline persecution. Like Psalm vii. are the metaphor of _lions_ for
enemies, that of _digging a pit_ for their plots, the use of _glory_
as a synonym for soul. The difficult word rendered "destructions" in
ver. 1 connects this psalm with Psalm lv. 11, dated as belonging to
the time of Saul's hostility, and with Psalms v. 9 and xxxviii. 12,
both traditionally Davidic. There is nothing in the psalm against the
attribution of it to David in the cave, whether of Adullam or Engedi,
and the allusions to lying down among lions may possibly have been
suggested by the wild beasts prowling round the psalmist's shelter.
The use in ver. 1 of the picturesque word for taking refuge derives
special appropriateness from the circumstances of the fugitive, over
whose else defenceless head the sides of his cave arched themselves
like great wings, beneath which he lay safe, though the growls of
beasts of prey echoed round. But there is no need to seek for further
certainty as to the occasion of the psalm. Baethgen thinks that it can
only have been composed after "the annihilation of the independence
of the Israelite state," because the vow in ver. 9 to make God's name
known among the nations can only be the utterance of the oppressed
congregation, which is sure of deliverance, because it is conscious
of its Divine call to sing God's praise to heathens. But that vow is
equally explicable on the assumption that the individual singer was
conscious of such a call.

There is no very sharp division of parts in the psalm. A grand refrain
separates it into two portions, in the former of which prayer for
deliverance and contemplation of dangers prevail, while in the latter
the foe is beheld as already baffled, and exuberant praise is poured
forth and vowed.

As in Psalm liv. and often, the first part begins with an act of faith
reaching out to God, and strengthening itself by the contemplation of
His character and acts. That energy of confidence wins assurance of
help, and only after that calming certitude has filled the soul does
the psalmist turn his eye directly on his enemies. His faith does not
make him oblivious of his danger, but it minimises his dread. An eye
that has seen God sees little terror in the most terrible things.

The psalmist knows that a soul which trusts has a right to God's
gracious dealings, and he is not afraid to urge his confidence as a
plea with God. The boldness of the plea is not less indicative of
the depth and purity of his religious experience than are the tender
metaphors in which it is expressed. What truer or richer description
of trust could be given than that which likens it to the act of a
fugitive betaking himself to the shelter of some mountain fastness,
impregnable and inaccessible? What lovelier thought of the safe,
warm hiding-place which God affords was ever spoken than that of
"the shadow of Thy wings"? Very significant is the recurrence of the
same verb in two different tenses in two successive clauses (1 _b_,
_c_). The psalmist heartens himself for present and future trust by
remembrance of past days, when he exercised it and was not put to
shame. That faith is blessed, and cannot but be strong, which is
nurtured by the remembrance of past acts of rewarded faith, as the
leaves of bygone summers make rich mould for a new generation of
flowers. When kites are in the sky, young birds seek protection from
the mother's wing as well as warmth from her breast. So the singer
betakes himself to his shelter till "destructions are gone by."
Possibly these are likened to a wild storm which sweeps across the
land, but is not felt in the stillness of the cave fortress. Hidden in
God, a man "heareth not the loud winds when they call," and may solace
himself in the midst of their roar by the thought that they will soon
blow over. He will not cease to take refuge in God when the stress is
past, nor throw off his cloak when the rain ceases; but he will nestle
close while it lasts, and have as his reward the clear certainty of
its transiency. The faith which clings to God after the tempest is no
less close than that which screened itself in Him while it raged.

Hidden in his shelter, the psalmist, in ver. 2, tells himself the
grounds on which he may be sure that his cry to God will not be in
vain. His name is "Most High," and His elevation is the pledge of His
irresistible might. He is the "God" (the Strong) who accomplishes all
for the psalmist which he needs, and His past manifestations in that
character make His future interventions certain. Therefore the singer is
sure of what will happen. Two bright angels--Loving-kindness and Troth
or Faithfulness their names--will be despatched from heaven for the
rescue of the man who has trusted. That is certain, because of what God
is and has done. It is no less certain, because of what the psalmist is
and has done; for a soul that gazes on God as its sole Helper, and has
pressed, in its feebleness, close beneath these mighty pinions, cannot
but bring down angel helpers, the executants of God's love.

The confidence expressed in ver. 2 is interrupted by an abrupt glance
at the enemy. "He that would swallow me up blasphemes" is the most
probable rendering of a difficult phrase, the meaning and connection
of which are both dubious. If it is so rendered, the connection is
probably that which we have expressed in the translation by inserting
"For." The wish to destroy the psalmist is itself blasphemy, or is
accompanied with blasphemy; and therefore God will surely send down
what will bring it to nought. The same identification of his own cause
with God's, which marks many of the psalms ascribed to the persecuted
David, underlies this sudden reference to the enemy, and warrants the
conclusion drawn, that help will come. The Selah at the end of the
clause is unusual in the middle of a verse; but it may be intended to
underscore, as it were, the impiety of the enemy, and so corresponds
with the other Selah in ver. 6, which is also in an unusual place, and
points attention to the enemy's ruin, as this does to his wickedness.

The description of the psalmist's circumstances in ver. 4 presents
considerable difficulty. The division of clauses, the force of the
form of the verb rendered _I must lie down_, and the meaning and
construction of the word rendered "those who breathe out fire," are
all questionable. If the accents are adhered to, the first clause
of the verse is "My soul is among lions." That is by some--_e.g._,
Delitzsch--regarded as literal description of the psalmist's
environment, but it is more natural to suppose that he is applying a
familiar metaphor to his enemies. In v. 4 _b_ the verb rendered above
"I must lie down" is in a form which has usually a cohortative or
optative force, and is by some supposed to have that meaning here,
and to express trust which is willing to lie down even in a lion's
den. It seems, however, here to denote objective necessity rather
than subjective willingness. Hupfeld would read _lies down_ (third
person), thus making "My soul" the subject of the verb, and getting
rid of the difficult optative form. Cheyne suggests a further slight
alteration in the word, so as to read, "My soul hath dwelt"--a phrase
found in Psalm cxx. 6; and this emendation is tempting. The word
rendered "those who breathe out fire" is by some taken to mean "those
who devour," and is variously construed, as referring to the _lions_
in _a_, taken literally, or as describing the _sons of men_ in _c_.
The general drift of the verse is clear. The psalmist is surrounded
by enemies, whom he compares, as the Davidic psalms habitually do, to
wild beasts. They are ready to rend. Open-mouthed they seem to breathe
out flames, and their slanders cut like swords.

The psalmist's contemplation of his forlorn lair among men worse
than beasts of prey drives him back to realise again his refuge in
God. He, as it were, wrenches his mind round to look at God rather
than at the enemies. Clear perception of peril and weakness does its
best work, when it drives to as clear recognition of God's help, and
wings faithful prayer. The psalmist, in his noble refrain, has passed
beyond the purely personal aspect of the desired deliverance, and
wishes not only that he may be shielded from his foes, but that God
would, in that deliverance, manifest Himself in His elevation above
and power over all created things. To conceive of his experience as
thus contributing to God's world-wide glory seems presumptuous; but
even apart from the consideration that the psalmist was conscious of
a world-wide mission, the lowliest suppliant has a right to feel that
his deliverance will enhance the lustre of that Glory; and the lowlier
he feels himself, the more wonderful is its manifestations in his
well-being. But if there is a strange note in the apparent audacity
of this identification, there is a deep one of self-suppression in the
fading from the psalmist's prayer of all mention of himself, and the
exclusive contemplation of the effects on the manifestation of God's
character, which may follow his deliverance. It is a rare and lofty
attainment to regard one's own well-being mainly in its connection
with God's "glory," and to desire the latter more consciously and
deeply than the former.

It has been proposed by Hupfeld to transpose vv. 5, 6, on the ground
that a recurrence to the description of dangers is out of place after
the refrain, and incongruous with the tone of the second part of the
psalm. But do the psalmists observe such accuracy in the flow of their
emotions? and is it not natural for a highly emotional lyric like this
to allow some surge of feeling to run over its barriers? The reference
to the enemies in ver. 6 is of a triumphant sort, which naturally
prepares for the burst of praise following, and worthily follows even
the lyrical elevation of the refrain. The perfects seem at first sight
to refer to past deliverances, which the psalmist recalls in order to
assure himself of future ones. But this retrospective reference is not
necessary, and the whole description in ver. 6 is rather to be taken
as that of approaching retribution on the foes, which is so certain
to come that the singer celebrates it as already as good as done. The
familiar figures of the net and pit, by both of which wild animals
are caught, and the as familiar picture of the hunter trapped in his
own pitfall, need no elucidation. There is a grim irony of events,
which often seems to delight in showing "the engineer hoised with his
own petard"; and whether that spectacle is forthcoming or not, the
automatic effects of wrongdoing always follow, and no man digs pits
for others but somehow and somewhen he finds himself at the bottom of
them, and his net wrapped round his own limbs. The Selah at the end
of ver. 6 calls spectators to gather, as it were, round the sight of
the ensnared plotter, lying helpless down there. A slight correction
of the text does away with a difficulty in ver. 6 _b_. The verb there
is transitive, and in the existing text is in the singular, but "He
has bowed down my soul" would be awkward, though not impossible, when
coming between two clauses in which the enemies are spoken of in the
plural. The emendation of the verb to the third person plural by the
addition of a letter brings the clauses into line, and retains the
usual force of the verb.

The psalmist has done with the enemies; they are at the bottom of the
pit. In full confidence of triumph and deliverance, he breaks out into
a grand burst of praise. "My heart is fixed," or "steadfast." Twice
the psalmist repeats this, as he does other emphatic thoughts, in this
psalm (_cp._ vv. 2, 4, 8, 9). What power can steady that fluttering,
wayward, agitated thing, a human heart? The way to keep light articles
fixed on deck, amidst rolling seas and howling winds, is to lash them
to something fixed; and the way to steady a heart is to bind it to
God. Built into the Rock, the building partakes of the steadfastness
of its foundation. Knit to God, a heart is firm. The psalmist's was
steadfast because it had taken refuge in God; and so, even before his
rescue from his enemies came to pass, he was emancipated from the fear
of them, and could lift this song of praise. He had said that he must
lie down among lions. But wherever his bed may be, he is sure that
he will rise from it; and however dark the night, he is sure that a
morning will come. In a bold and beautiful figure he says that he
will "wake the dawn" with his song.

The world-wide destination of his praise is clear to him. It is plain
that such anticipations as those of ver. 9 surpass the ordinary poetic
consciousness, and must be accounted for on some special ground. The
favourite explanation at present is that the singer is Israel, conscious
of its mission. The old explanation that the singer is a king, conscious
of his inspiration and divinely given office, equally meets the case.

The psalmist had declared his trust that God would send out His angels
of Loving-kindness and Troth. He ends his song with the conviction,
which has become to him matter of experience, that these Divine
"attributes" tower to heaven, and in their height symbolise their own
infinitude. Nor is the other truth suggested by ver. 10 to be passed
over, that the manifestation of these attributes on earth leads to
their being more gloriously visible in heaven. These two angels, who
come forth from on high to do God's errands for His poor, trusting
servant, go back, their work done, and are hailed as victors by the
celestial inhabitants. By God's manifestation of these attributes to
a man, His glory is exalted above the heavens and all the earth. The
same thought is more definitely expressed in Paul's declaration that
"to the principalities and powers in heavenly places is known by the
Church the manifold wisdom of God."




                              PSALM LVIII.

   1  Do ye indeed speak righteousness, O ye gods?
      In uprightness do ye judge the sons of men?
   2  Yea, in heart ye work iniquity;
      In the earth ye weigh out the violence of your hands.
   3  The wicked are estranged from the womb:
      Gone astray from birth are the speakers of lies.
   4  Their poison is like the poison of a serpent,
      Like the deaf adder that stops its ear,
   5  That will not hearken to the voice of the charmers,
      The skilled weaver of spells.

   6  O God, break their teeth in their mouth:
      The grinders of the young lions wrench out, Jehovah.
   7  Let them melt like waters [that] run themselves [dry]:
      [When] he shoots his arrows, let them be as if pointless.
   8  [Let them be] as a slug that dissolves as it crawls:
      As the premature birth of a woman, [that] has not seen the sun.
   9  Before your pots feel the thorns,
      Whether it be green or burning, He shall whirl it away.

  10  The righteous shall rejoice that he has beheld [the] vengeance:
      His footsteps shall he bathe in the blood of the wicked.
  11  And men shall say, Surely there is fruit for the righteous:
      Surely there is a God judging in the earth.


This psalmist's fiery indignation against unjust judges and evil-doers
generally is not kindled by personal wrongs. The psalm comes hot
from a heart lacerated by the sight of widespread corruption, and
constrained to seek for patience in the thought of the swift sweeping
away of evil men before their plans are effected. Stern triumph in the
punitive manifestations of God's rule, and keen sense of the need of
such, are its keynotes. Vehement emotion stirs the poet's imagination
to heap together strong and, in part, obscure metaphors. Here
emphatically "Indignatio facit versus." The psalm is Dantesque in its
wealth of sombre imagination, which produces the most solemn effects
with the homeliest metaphors, and in its awed and yet satisfied
contemplation of the fate of evil-doers. It parts itself into three
portions,--a dark picture of abounding evil (vv. 1-5); it's punishment
prayed for (vv. 6-9); and the consequent joy of the righteous and
widespread recognition of the rule of a just God (vv. 10, 11).

The abrupt question of ver. 1 speaks of long pent-up indignation,
excited by protracted experience of injustice, and anticipates the
necessary negative answer which follows. The word rendered by the
A.V. and R.V. "in silence" or "dumb" can scarcely be twisted into
intelligibility, and the small alteration of reading required for
the rendering "gods" is recommended by the similar expressions in
the kindred Psalm lxxxii. Taken thus, the question is hurled at the
appointed depositaries of judicial power and supreme authority. There
is no need to suppose, with Hupfeld and others, whom Cheyne follows,
that these "gods" are supernatural beings intrusted with the government
of the world. The explanation of the name lies in the conception of
such power as bestowed by God, and in some sense a delegation of His
attribute; or, as our Lord explained the similar name in Psalm lxxxii.,
as given because "to them the word of God came." It sets in sinister
light the flagrant contradiction between the spirit in which these men
exercised their office and the source from which they derived it, and
thus sharpens the reproach of the question. The answer is introduced
by a particle conveying a strong opposition to the previous supposition
couched in the question. "Heart" and "hands" are so obviously
antithetical, that the alteration of "in heart" to "ye all" is not
acceptable, though it removes the incongruity of plans being wrought in
the heart, the seat of devices, not of actions. "Work" may be here used
anomalously, as we say "work out," implying the careful preparation of
a plan, and there may even be a hint that the true acts are the undone
acts of the heart. The unaccomplished purpose is a deed, though never
clothed in outward fact. Evil determined is, in a profound sense, done
before it is done; and, in another equally solemn, not done when "'tis
done," as Macbeth has taught us. The "act," as men call it, follows: "In
the earth"--not only in the heart--"ye weigh out the violence of your
hands." The scales of justice are untrue. Instead of dispensing equity,
as they were bound to do, they clash into the balance the weight of
their own violence.

It is to be noted that the psalm says no more about the sins of unjust
authorities, but passes on to describe the "wicked" generally. The
transition may suggest that under unjust rulers all wrongdoers find
impunity, and so multiply and worsen; or it may simply be that these
former are now merged in the class to which they belong. The type of
"wickedness" gibbeted is the familiar one of malicious calumniators
and persecutors. From birth onwards they have continuously been doers
of evil. The psalmist is not laying down theological propositions
about heredity, but describing the inveterate habit of sin which has
become a second nature, and makes amendment hopeless. The reference
to "lies" naturally suggests the image of the serpent's poison. An
envenomed tongue is worse than any snake's bite. And the mention of
the serpent stimulates the poet's imagination to yet another figure,
which puts most graphically that disregard of warnings, entreaties,
and every voice, human or Divine, that marks long-practised, customary
sinfulness. There can be no more striking symbol of determined
disregard to the calls of patient Love and the threats of outraged
Justice than that of the snake lying coiled, with its head in the
centre of its motionless folds, as if its ears were stopped by its
own bulk, while the enchanter plays his softest notes and speaks his
strongest spells in vain. There are such men, thinks this psalmist.
There are none whom the mightiest spell, that of God's love in Christ,
could not conquer and free from their poison; but there are such
as will close their ears to its plaintive sweetness. This is the
condemnation that light is come and men love darkness, and had rather
lie coiled in their holes than have their fangs extracted.

The general drift of the second part (vv. 6-9) is to call down Divine
retribution on these obstinate, irreclaimable evil-doers. Figure is
heaped on figure in a fashion suggestive of intense emotion. The
transiency of insolent evil, the completeness of its destruction,
are the thoughts common to them all. There are difficulties in
translation, and, in ver. 9, probable textual corruption; but these
should not hide the tremendous power of gloomy imagination, which can
lay hold of vulgar and in part loathsome things, and, by sheer force
of its own solemn insight, can free them from all low or grotesque
associations, and turn them into awful symbols. The intense desire
for the sweeping away of evil-doers has met us in many previous
psalms, and it is needless to repeat former observations on it. But
it is nowhere expressed with such a wealth of metaphor as here. The
first of these, that of crushing the jaws and breaking the teeth of a
beast of prey, occurs also in Psalm iii. 7. It is less terrible than
the subsequent imprecations, since it only contemplates the wickeds'
deprivation of power to do harm. In ver. 7 _a_ their destruction is
sought, while, in the second clause of the same verse, the defeat
of their attempts is desired. Ver. 8 then expands the former wish,
and ver. 9 the latter. This plain symmetrical arrangement makes the
proposals to resort to transposition unnecessary. Mountain torrents
quickly run themselves dry; and the more furious their rush, the
swifter their exhaustion. They leave a chaos of whitened stones, that
lie bleaching in the fierce sun when the wild spate is past. So stormy
and so short will be the career of evil-doers. So could a good man of
old wish it to be; and so may we be sure of and desire the cessation
of oppression and man's inhumanity to man. Ver. 7 _b_ is obscure. All
these figures are struck out with such parsimony of words that they
are difficult. They remind one of some of the stern, unfinished work
of Michael Angelo, where a blow or two of his chisel, or a dash or two
of his brush, has indicated rather than expressed his purpose, and
left a riddle, fascinating in its incompleteness, for smaller men to
spell out. In ver. 7 _b_ it may be asked, Who is the archer? If God,
then the whole is a presentation as if of an occurrence taking place
before our eyes. God shoots His arrow, and at once it lodges in the
heart of the enemies, and they are as though cut off. But it is better
to take the wicked as the subject of both verbs, the change from
singular to plural being by no means unusual in successive clauses
with the same subject. If so, this clause recurs to the thought of
ver. 6, and prays for the neutralising of the wicked man's attempts.
He fits his arrows, aims, and draws the bow. May they fall harmless,
as if barbless! An emendation has been proposed by which the clause
is made parallel with Psalm xxxvii. 2, "As grass let them be quickly
cut off," thus securing a complete parallel with _a_, and avoiding the
difficulty in the word rendered by us "pointless." But the existing
text gives a vigorous metaphor, the peculiarity of which makes it
preferable to the feebler image of withering grass.

The prayer for destruction is caught up again in ver. 8, in two daring
figures which tremble on the verge of lowering the key of the whole;
but by escaping that peril, produce the contrary effect, and heighten
it. A slug leaves a shining track of slime as it creeps, which exudes
from its soft body, and thus it seems to disintegrate itself by its
own motion. It is the same thought of the suicidal character of bad
men's efforts which was expressed by the stream foaming itself away
in the nullah. It is the eternal truth that opposition to God's
will destroys itself by its own activity. The unfulfilled life of a
premature birth, with eyes which never opened to the light for which
they were made, and possibilities which never unfolded, and which is
huddled away into a nameless grave, still more impressively symbolises
futility and transiency.

In ver. 9 the figure has given much trouble to commentators. Its
broad meaning is, however, undoubted. It is, as ver. 6 and ver. 7
_b_, symbolic of the Divine intervention which wrecks wicked men's
plans before they are wrought out. The picture before the psalmist
seems to be that of a company of travellers round their camp fire,
preparing their meal. They heap brushwood under the pot, and expect
to satisfy their hunger; but before the pot is warmed through, not
to say before the water boils or the meat is cooked, down comes a
whirlwind, which sweeps away fire, pot, and all. Every word of the
clause is doubtful, and, with the existing text, the best that can be
done is not wholly satisfactory. If emendation is resorted to, the
suggestion of Bickell, adopted by Cheyne, gives a good sense: "[And]
while your [flesh] is yet raw, the hot wrath [of Jehovah] shall sweep
it away." Baethgen makes a slighter alteration, and renders, "While
it is still raw, He sweeps it away in wrath." Retaining the existing
text (which is witnessed by the LXX. and other old versions), probably
the best rendering is, "Whether [it be] green or burning, He shall
whirl it away." This general understanding of the words is shared by
commentators who differ as to what is represented as swept away,--some
making it the thorn fire, the twigs of which may be either full of
sap or well alight; while others take the reference to be to the
meat in the pot, which may be either "living," _i.e._ raw, or well
on the way to being cooked. Neither application is quite free from
difficulty, especially in view of the fact that some pressure has to
be put on the word rendered "burning," which is not an adjective,
but a noun, and is usually employed to designate the fiery wrath of
God, as it is rendered in the amended text just mentioned. After all
attempts at clearing up the verse, one must be content to put a mark
of interrogation at any rendering. But the scope of the figure seems
discoverable through the obscurity. It is a homely and therefore
vigorous picture of half-accomplished plans suddenly reduced to utter
failure, and leaving their concocters hungry for the satisfaction
which seemed so near. The cookery may go on merrily and the thorns
crackle cheerily, but the simoom comes, topples over the tripod on
which the pot swung, and blows the fire away in a hundred directions.
Peter's gibbet was ready, and the morning of his execution was near;
but when day dawned, "there was no small stir what was become of him."
The wind had blown him away from the expectation of the people of the
Jews into safe quarters; and the fire was dispersed.

The closing part (vv. 10, 11) breathes a stern spirit of joy over
the destruction of the wicked. That is a terrible picture of the
righteous bathing his feet in the blood of the wicked (Psalm lxviii.
23). It expresses not only the dreadful abundance of blood, but also
the satisfaction of the "righteous" at its being shed. There is an
ignoble and there is a noble and Christian satisfaction in even
the destructive providences of God. It is not only permissible but
imperative on those who would live in sympathy with His righteous
dealings and with Himself, that they should see in these the
manifestation of eternal justice, and should consider that they
roll away burdens from earth and bring hope and rest to the victims
of oppression. It is no unworthy shout of personal vengeance, nor
of unfeeling triumph, that is lifted up from a relieved world when
Babylon falls. If it is right in God to destroy, it cannot be wrong
in His servants to rejoice that He does. Only they have to take heed
that their emotion is untarnished by selfish gratulation, and is not
untinged with solemn pity for those who were indeed doers of evil, but
were themselves the greatest sufferers from their evil. It is hard,
but not impossible, to take all that is expressed in the psalm, and
to soften it by some effluence from the spirit of Him who wept over
Jerusalem, and yet pronounced its doom.

The last issue of God's judgments contemplated by the psalm warrants
the joy of the righteous; for in these there is a demonstration to the
world that there is "fruit" to the righteous, and that notwithstanding
all bewilderments from the sight of prosperous wickedness and
oppressed righteousness "there is a God who judges in the earth."
The word "judging" is here in the plural, corresponding with "God"
(Elohim), which is also plural in form. Possibly the construction is
to be explained on the ground that the words describe the thoughts
of surrounding, polytheistic nations, who behold the exhibition
of God's righteousness. But more probably the plural is here used
for the sake of the contrast with the "gods" of ver. 1. Over these
unworthy representatives of Divine justice sits the true judge, in
the manifoldness of His attributes, exercising His righteous though
slow-footed judgments.




                               PSALM LIX.

   1  Deliver me from my enemies, O my God:
      Out of the reach of those who arise against me set me on high.
   2  Deliver me from workers of iniquity,
      And from men of blood save me.
   3  For, see, they have lain in wait for my soul,
      The violent gather together against me:
      Not for transgression or sin of mine, Jehovah.
   4  Without [my] fault they run and set themselves in array:
      Awake to meet me, and behold.
   5  And Thou, Jehovah, God of hosts, God of Israel,
      Rouse Thyself to visit all the nations:
      Be not gracious to wicked apostates. Selah.

   6  They return at evening, they snarl like dogs, and prowl round the
                city.
   7  See, they foam at the mouth;
      Swords are in their lips:
      For "Who hears?"
   8  But Thou, Jehovah, shalt laugh at them;
      Thou mockest at all the nations.
   9  My Strength, for Thee will I watch:
      For God is my high tower.

  10  My God shall come to meet me with His loving-kindness:
      God will let me look on my adversaries.
  11  Slay them not, lest my people forget:
      Make them wanderers by Thy power (army?), and cast them down,
      O Lord our shield.
  12  [Each] word of their lips is a sin of their mouth,
      And they snare themselves in their pride,
      And for the cursing and lying [which] they speak.
  13  End [them] in wrath, end [them], that they be no more:
      And let them know that God is ruler in Jacob,
      Unto the ends of the earth. Selah.

  14  And they shall return at evening, they shall growl like dogs,
      And prowl round the city.
  15  They--they shall wander about for food,
      If they are not gorged, then [so must] they pass the night.
  16  And I will sing Thy strength,
      And sound aloud Thy loving-kindness in the morning,
      For Thou hast been a high tower for me,
      And a refuge in the day of my straits.
  17  My strength, to Thee will I harp,
      For God is my high tower, the God of my loving-kindness.


The superscription makes this the earliest of David's psalms, dating
from the Sauline persecution. It has many points of connection
with the others of that group, but its closest affinities are with
Psalm lv., which is commonly considered to belong to the period of
incubation of Absalom's rebellion (_cf._ Psalm lv. 10 with lix. 6,
14, and lv. 21 with lix. 7). The allusion to enemies patrolling the
city, which is common to both psalms, seems to refer to a fact, and
may in this psalm be founded on the watchfulness of Saul's emissaries;
but its occurrence in both weakens its force as here confirmatory of
the superscription. It does not necessarily follow from the mention
of the "nations" that the psalmist's enemies are foreigners. Their
presence in the city and the stress laid on words as their weapons are
against that supposition. On the whole, the contents of the psalm do
not negative the tradition in the title, but do not strongly attest
it. If we have accepted the Davidic authorship of the other psalms
of this group, we shall extend it to this one; for they clearly are
a group, whether Davidic or not. The psalm falls into two principal
divisions (vv. 1-9 and 10-17), each closing with a refrain, and each
subdivided into two minor sections, the former of which in each case
ends with Selah, and the latter begins with another refrain. The two
parts travel over much the same ground of petition, description of the
enemies, confidence in deliverance and in the defeat of the foes. But
in the first half the psalmist prays for himself, and in the second
he prays against his persecutors, while assured confidence in his own
deliverance takes the place of alarmed gaze on their might and cruelty.

The former half of the first part begins and ends with petitions.
Imbedded in these is a plaintive recounting of the machinations of
the adversaries, which are, as it were, spread before God's eyes,
accompanied with protestations of innocence. The prayers, which
enclose, as in a circlet, this description of unprovoked hatred, are
varied, so that the former petitions are directed to the singer's
deliverance, while the latter invoke judgment on his antagonists.
The strong assertion of innocence is, of course, to be limited to
the psalmist's conduct to his enemies. They attack him without
provocation. Obviously this feature corresponds to the facts of
Saul's hatred of David, and as obviously it does not correspond to
the facts of Israel's sufferings from foreign enemies, which are
supposed by the present favourite interpretation to be the occasion
of the psalm. No devout singer could so misunderstand the reason
of the nation's disasters as to allege that they had fallen upon
innocent heads. Rather, when a psalmist bewailed national calamities,
he traced them to national sins. "Anger went up against Israel,
because they believed not in God." The psalmist calls God to look
upon the doings of his enemies. Privy plots and open assaults are
both directed against him. The enemy lie in wait for his life; but
also, with fell eagerness, like that of soldiers making haste to rank
themselves in battle-array, they "run and set themselves." This is
probably simply metaphor, for the rest of the psalm does not seem to
contemplate actual warfare. The imminence of peril forces an urgent
prayer from the threatened man. So urgent is it that it breaks in
on the parallelism of ver. 4, substituting its piercing cry "Awake,
behold!" for the proper second clause carrying on the description in
the first. The singer makes haste to grasp God's hand, because he
feels the pressure of the wind blowing in his face. It is wise to
break off the contemplation of enemies and dangers by crying to God.
Prayer is a good interruption of a catalogue of perils. The petitions
in ver. 5 are remarkable, both in their accumulation of the Divine
names and in their apparent transcending of the suppliant's need. The
former characteristic is no mere artificial or tautological heaping
together of titles, but indicates repeated acts of faith and efforts
of contemplation. Each name suggests something in God which encourages
hope, and when appealed to by a trusting soul, moves Him to act. The
very introductory word of invocation, "And Thou," is weighty. It sets
the might of God in grand contrast to the hurrying hatred of the
adversary; and its significance is enhanced if its recurrence in ver.
8 and its relation to "And I" in ver. 16 are taken into account.

The combination of the Divine names is remarkable here, from the
insertion of God (Elohim) between the two parts of the standing
name, Jehovah of hosts. The anomaly is made still more anomalous
by the peculiar form of the word Elohim, which does not undergo
the modification to be expected in such a construction. The same
peculiarities occur in other Elohistic psalms (lxxx. 4, 19, and
lxxxiv. 8). The peculiar grammatical form would be explained if the
three words were regarded as three co-ordinate names, Jehovah, Elohim,
Zebaoth, and this explanation is favoured by good critics. But it
is going too far to say, with Baethgen, that "Zebaoth _can only_ be
understood as an independent Divine name" (Komm., _in loc._). Other
explanations are at least possible, such as that of Delitzsch, that
"Elohim, like Jehovah, has become a proper name," and so does not
suffer modification. The supplicatory force of the names, however,
is clear, whatever may be the account of the formal anomalies. They
appeal to God and they hearten the appellant's confidence by setting
forth the loftiness of God, who rules over the embattled forces of the
universe, which "run and set themselves in array" at His bidding and
for His servant's help, and before which the ranks of the foes seem
thin and few. They set forth also God's relation to Israel, of which
the single suppliant is a member.

The petition, grounded upon these names, is supposed by modern
commentators to prove that the psalmist's enemies were heathens, which
would, of course, destroy the Davidic authorship, and make the singer a
personification of the nation. But against this is to be observed the
description of the enemies in the last clause of ver. 5 as "apostates,"
which must refer to Israelites. The free access to the "city," spoken
of in ver. 6, is also unfavourable to that supposition, as is the
prominence given to the _words_ of the enemy. Foreign foes would have
had other swords than those carried between their lips. The prayer
that Jehovah would arise to visit "all nations" is much more naturally
explained, as on the same principle as the judgment of "the peoples"
in Psalm vii. All special cases are subsumed under the one general
judgment. The psalmist looks for his own deliverance as one instance
of that world-wide manifestation of Divine justice which will "render
to every man according to his deeds." Not only personal considerations
move him to his prayer; but, pressing as these are, and shrill as is
the cry for personal deliverance, the psalmist is not so absorbed in
self as that he cannot widen his thoughts and desires to a world-wide
manifestation of Divine righteousness, of which his own escape will be
a tiny part. Such recognition of the universal in the particular is the
prerogative in lower walks of the poet and the man of genius; it is the
strength and solace of the man who lives by faith and links all things
with God. The instruments here strike in, so as to fix attention on the
spectacle of God aroused to smite and of the end of apostates.

The comparison of the psalmist's enemies to dogs occurs in another
psalm ascribed to David (xxii. 16, 20). They are like the masterless,
gaunt, savage curs which infest the streets of Eastern cities, hungrily
hunting for offal and ready to growl or snarl at every passer-by.
Though the dog is not a nocturnal animal, evening would naturally be
a time when these would specially prowl round the city in search of
food, if disappointed during the day. The picture suggests the enemies'
eagerness, lawlessness, foulness, and persistency. If the psalm is
rightly dated in the superscription, it finds most accurate realisation
in the crafty, cruel watchfulness of Saul's spies. The word rendered by
the A.V. and R.V. "make a noise" is "said usually of the growling of the
bear and the cooing of the dove" (Delitzsch). It indicates a lower sound
than barking, and so expresses rage suppressed lest its object should
take alarm. The word rendered (A.V. and R.V.) "belch" means to gush
out, and is found in a good sense in Psalm xix. 1. Here it may perhaps
be taken as meaning "foam," with some advantage to the truth of the
picture. "Swords are in their lips"--_i.e._, their talk is of slaying
the psalmist, or their slanders cut like swords; and the crown of their
evil is their scoff at the apparently deaf and passive God.

With startling suddenness, as if one quick touch drew aside a curtain,
the vision of God as He really regards the enemies is flashed on
them in ver. 8. The strong antithesis expressed by the "And Thou,"
as in ver. 5, comes with overwhelming force. Below is the crowd of
greedy foes, obscene, cruel, and blasphemous; above, throned in dread
repose, which is not, as they dream, carelessness or ignorance, is
Jehovah, mocking their fancied security. The tremendous metaphor of
the laughter of God is too boldly anthropomorphic to be misunderstood.
It sounds like the germ of the solemn picture in Psalm ii., and is
probably the source of the similar expression in Psalm xxxvii. 13.
The introduction of the wider thought of God's "mocking"--_i.e._,
discerning, and manifesting in act, the impotence of the ungodly
efforts of "all nations"--is to be accounted for on the same principle
of the close connection discerned by the devout singer between the
particular and the general, which explains the similar extension of
view in ver. 5.

Ver. 9 is the refrain closing the first part. The reading of the Hebrew
text, "His strength," must be given up, as unintelligible, and the
slight alteration required for reading "my" instead of "his" adopted, as
in the second instance of the refrain in ver. 17. The further alteration
of text, however, by which "I will harp" would be read in ver. 9 instead
of "I will watch" is unnecessary, and the variation of the two refrains
is not only in accordance with usage, but brings out a delicate phase
of progress in confidence. He who begins with waiting for God ends with
singing praise to God. The silence of patient expectance is changed for
the melody of received deliverance.

The first part of the second division, like the corresponding portion
of the fist division, is mainly prayer, but with the significant
difference that the petitions now are directed, not to the psalmist's
deliverance, but to his enemies' punishment. For himself, he is sure
that his God will come to meet him with His loving-kindness, and
that, thus met and helped, he will look on, secure, at their ruin.
The Hebrew margin proposes to read "The God of my loving-kindness
will meet me"--an incomplete sentence, which does not tell with what
God will meet him. But the text needs only the change of one vowel
point in order to yield the perfectly appropriate reading, "my God
shall meet me with His loving-kindness," which is distinctly to be
preferred. It is singular that the substitution of "my" for "his,"
which is needlessly suggested by the Hebrew margin for ver. 10, is
required but not suggested for ver. 9. One is tempted to wonder
whether there has been a scribe's blunder attaching the correction
to the wrong verse. The central portion of this part of the psalm
is composed of terrible wishes for the enemies' destruction. There
is nothing more awful in the imprecations of the Psalter than that
petition that the boon of a swift end to their miseries may not be
granted them. The dew of pity for suffering is dried up by the fire
of stern desire for the exhibition of a signal instance of Divine
judicial righteousness. That desire lifts the prayer above the level
of personal vengeance, but does not lighten its awfulness. There may
be an allusion to the fate of Cain, who was kept alive and made a
"fugitive and a vagabond." Whether that is so or not, the wish that
the foes may be kept alive to be buffeted by God's _strength_--or,
as the word may mean, to be scattered in panic-struck rout by God's
_army_--is one which marks the difference between the old and the
new covenants. The ground of these fearful punishments is vehemently
set forth in ver. 12. Every word which the adversaries speak is sin.
Their own self-sufficient pride, which is revolt against dependence
on God, is like a trap to catch them. They speak curses and lies, for
which retribution is due. This recounting of their crimes, not so much
against the psalmist, though involving him, as against God, fires
his indignation anew, and he flames out with petitions which seem to
forget the former ones for lingering destruction: "End them in wrath,
end them." The contradiction may be apparent only, and this passionate
cry may presuppose the fulfilment of the former. The psalmist will
then desire two dreadful things--first, protracted suffering, and then
a crushing blow to end it. His ultimate desire in both is the same.
He would have the evil-doers spared long enough to be monuments of
God's punitive justice; he would have them ended, that the crash of
their fall may reverberate afar and proclaim that God rules in Jacob.
"Unto the ends of the earth" may be connected either with "rules" or
with "know." In the former construction the thought will be, that
from His throne in Israel God exercises dominion universally; in the
latter, that the echo of the judgment on these evil-doers will reach
distant lands. The latter meaning is favoured by the accents, and
is, on the whole, to be preferred. But what a strange sense of his
own significance for the manifestation of God's power to the world
this singer must have had, if he could suppose that the events of his
life were thus of universal importance! One does not wonder that the
advocates of the personification theory find strong confirmation of it
in such utterances; and, indeed, the only other explanation of them
is that the psalmist held, and knew himself to hold, a conspicuous
place in the evolution of the Divine purpose, so that in his life,
as in a small mirror, there were reflected great matters. If such
anticipations were more than wild dreams, the cherisher of them must
either have been speaking in the person of the nation, or he must have
known himself to be God's instrument for extending His name through
the world. No single person so adequately meets the requirements of
such words as David.

The second part of this division (ver. 14) begins with the same words
as the corresponding part of the first division (ver. 6), so that
there is a kind of refrain here. The futures in vv. 14, 15, may be
either simple futures or optatives. In the latter case the petitions
of the preceding verses would be continued here, and the pregnant
truth would result that continuance in sin is the punishment of sin.
But probably the imprecations are better confined to the former part,
as the Selah draws a broad line of demarcation, and there would be an
incongruity in following the petition "End them" with others which
contemplated the continuance of the enemies. If the verses are taken
as simply predictive, the point of the reintroduction of the figure of
the pack of dogs hunting for their prey lies in ver. 15. There they
are described as balked in their attempts, and having to pass the
night unsatisfied. Their prey has escaped. Their eager chase, their
nocturnal quest, their growling and prowling, have been vain. They lie
down empty and in the dark--a vivid picture, which has wider meanings
than its immediate occasion. "Ye lust and desire to have, and cannot
obtain." An eternal nemesis hangs over godless lives, condemning them
to hunger, after all efforts, and wrapping their pangs of unsatisfied
desire in tragic darkness.

A clear strain of trust springs up, like a lark's morning song. The
singer contrasts himself with his baffled foes. The "they" at the
beginning of ver. 15 is emphatic in the Hebrew, and is matched with
the emphatic "And I" which begins ver. 16. His "morning" is similarly
set over against their "night." So petition, complaint, imprecation,
all merge into a song of joy and trust, and the whole ends with the
refrain significantly varied and enlarged. In its first form the
psalmist said, "For Thee will I watch"; in its second he rises to
"To Thee will I harp." Glad praise is ever the close of the vigils
of a faithful, patient heart. The deliverance won by waiting and
trust should be celebrated by praise. In the first form the refrain
ran "God is my high tower," and the second part of the psalm began
with "My God shall meet me with His loving-kindness." In its second
form the refrain draws into itself these words which had followed
it, and so modifies them that the loving-kindness which in them was
contemplated as belonging to and brought by God is now joyfully
clasped by the singer as his very own, by Divine gift and through his
own acceptance. Blessed they who are led by occasion of foes and fears
to take God's rich gifts, and can thankfully and humbly feel that His
loving-kindness and all its results are theirs, because He Himself is
theirs and they are His!




                               PSALM LX.

   1  O God, Thou hast cast us off, hast broken us,
      Hast been angry with us--restore us again.
   2  Thou hast shaken the land, hast rent it--
      Heal its breaches, for it trembles.
   3  Thou hast made Thy people see hard things,
      Thou hast given them to drink reeling as wine.
   4  Thou hast given a banner to them that fear Thee,
      [Only] that they may flee before the bow. Selah.

   5  That Thy beloved ones may be delivered,
      Save with Thy right hand, and answer us.
   6  God has spoken in His holiness,--I will exult:
      I will divide Shechem, and measure out the valley of Succoth.
   7  Mine is Gilead, and mine Manasseh,
      And Ephraim is the strength of my head,
      Judah, my baton of command.
   8  Moab is my wash basin,
      Upon Edom will I throw my shoe,
      Because of me, Philistia, shout aloud.

   9  Who will bring me into the fenced city?
      Who has guided me into Edom?
  10  Hast not Thou, O God, cast us off?
      And goest not out, O God, with our hosts.
  11  Give us help from the oppressor
      For vain is help of man.
  12  In God we shall do prowess:
      And He, He will tread down our oppressors.


This psalm has evidently a definite historical background. Israel has
been worsted in fight, but still continues its campaign against Edom.
Meditating on God's promises, the psalmist anticipates victory, which
will cover defeat and perfect partial successes, and seeks to breathe
his own spirit of confidence into the ranks of his countrymen. But
the circumstances answering to those required by the psalm are hard
to find. The date assigned by the superscription cannot be called
satisfactory; for David's war there referred to (2 Sam. viii.) had
no such stunning defeats as are here lamented. The Divine Oracle, of
which the substance is given in the central part of the psalm, affords
but dubious indications of date. At first sight it seems to imply the
union of all the tribes in one kingdom, and therefore to favour the
Davidic authorship. But it may be a question whether the united Israel
of the Oracle is fact or prophecy. To one school of commentators,
the mention of Ephraim in conjunction with Judah is token that the
psalm is prior to the great revolt; to another, it is proof positive
that the date is after the destruction of the northern kingdom. The
Maccabean date is favoured by Olshausen, Hitzig, and Cheyne among
moderns; but, apart from other objections, the reappearance of vv.
5-12 in Psalm cviii. implies that this piece of Hebrew psalmody was
already venerable when a later compiler wove part of it into that
psalm. On the whole, the Davidic authorship is possible, though
clogged with the difficulty already mentioned. But the safest
conclusion seems to be Baethgen's modest one, which contrasts strongly
with the confident assertions of some other critics--namely, that
assured certainty in dating the psalm "is no longer possible."

It falls into three parts of four verses each, of which the first (vv.
1-4) is complaint of defeat and prayer for help; the second (vv. 5-8),
a Divine Oracle assuring victory; and the third (vv. 9-12), the flash
of fresh hope kindled by that God's-word.

The first part blends complaint and prayer in the first pair of
verses, in each of which there is, first, a description of the
desperate state of Israel, and then a cry for help. The nation is
broken, as a wall is broken down, or as an army whose ordered ranks
are shattered and scattered. Some crushing defeat is meant, which
in ver. 2 is further described as an earthquake. The land trembles,
and then gapes in hideous clefts, and houses become gaunt ruins. The
state is disorganised as in consequence of defeat. It is an unpoetical
mixture of fact and figure to see in the "rending" of the land
allusion to the separation of the kingdoms, especially as that was not
the result of defeat.

There is almost a tone of wonder in the designation of Israel as
"Thy people," so sadly does the fate meted out to them contrast with
their name. Stranger still and more anomalous is it, that, as ver.
3 _b_ laments, God's own hand has commended such a chalice to their
lips as should fill them with infatuation. The construction "wine of
reeling" is grammatically impossible, and the best explanation of the
phrase regards the nouns as in apposition--"wine which is reeling," or
"reeling as wine." The meaning is that God not only sent the disaster
which had shaken the nation like an earthquake, but had sent, too, the
presumptuous self-confidence which had led to it.

Ver. 4 has received two opposite interpretations, being taken by
some as a prolongation of the tone of lament over disaster, and by
others as commemoration of God's help. The latter meaning violently
interrupts the continuity of thought. "The only natural view is
that which sees" in ver. 4 "a continuation of the description of
calamity" in ver. 3 (Cheyne, _in loc._). Taking this view, we render
the second clause as above. The word translated "that they may flee"
may indeed mean to lift themselves up, in the sense of gathering
round a standard, but the remainder of the clause cannot be taken as
meaning "because of the truth," since the preposition here used never
means "because of." It is best taken here as _from before_. The word
variously rendered _bow_ and _truth_ is difficult. It occurs again in
Prov. xxii. 21, and is there parallel with "truth" or faithfulness in
fulfilling Divine promises. But that meaning would be inappropriate
here, and would require the preceding preposition to be taken in the
impossible sense already noted. It seems better, therefore, to follow
the LXX. and other old versions, in regarding the word as a slightly
varied mode of spelling the ordinary word for a bow (the final dental
letter being exchanged for a cognate dental). The resulting meaning is
deeply  by sad irony. "Thou hast indeed given a banner--but
it was a signal for flight rather than for gathering round." Such
seems the best view of this difficult verse; but it is not free
from objection. "Those who fear Thee" is not a fitting designation
for persons who were thus scattered in flight by God, even if it is
taken as simply a synonym for the nation. We have to make choice
between two incongruities. If we adopt the favourite view, that the
verse continues the description of calamity, the name given to the
sufferers is strange. If we take the other, that it describes God's
gracious rallying of the fugitives, we are confronted with a violent
interruption of the tone of feeling in this first part of the psalm.
Perowne accepts the rendering _from before the bow_, but takes the
verb in the sense of mustering round, so making the banner to be a
rallying-point, and the giving of it a Divine mercy.

The second part (vv. 5-8) begins with a verse which Delitzsch and
others regard as really connected, notwithstanding the Selah at the
end ver. 4, with the preceding. But it is quite intelligible as
independent, and is in its place as the introduction to the Divine
Oracle which follows, and makes the kernel of the psalm. There is
beautiful strength of confidence in the psalmist's regarding the
beaten, scattered people as still God's "darlings." He appeals to Him
to answer, in order that a result so accordant with God's heart as the
deliverance of His beloved ones may be secured. And the prayer has no
sooner passed his lips than he hears the thunderous response, "God has
spoken in His holiness." That infinite elevation of His nature above
creatures is the pledge of the fulfilment of His word.

The following verses contain the substance of the Oracle; but it is too
daring to suppose that they reproduce its words; for "I will exult"
can scarcely be reverently put into the mouth of God. The substance of
the whole is a twofold promise--of a united Israel, and a submissive
heathendom. Shechem on the west and Succoth on the east of Jordan,
Gilead and Manasseh on the east, and Ephraim and Judah on the west, are
the possession of the speaker, whether he is king or representative of
the nation. No trace of a separation of the kingdoms is here. Ephraim,
the strongest tribe of the northern kingdom, is the "strength of my
head," the helmet, or perhaps with allusion to the horns of an animal as
symbols of offensive weapons. Judah is the ruling tribe, the commander's
baton, or possibly "lawgiver," as in Gen. xlix. Israel thus compact
together may count on conquests over hereditary foes.

Their defeat is foretold in contemptuous images. The basin for washing
the feet was "a vessel unto dishonour"; and, in Israel's great house,
no higher function for his ancestral enemy, when conquered, would be
found. The meaning of casting the shoe upon or over Edom is doubtful.
It may be a symbol for taking possession of property, though that
lacks confirmation; or Edom may be regarded as the household slave
to whom the master's shoes are thrown when taken off; or, better, in
accordance with the preceding reference to Moab, Edom may be regarded
as part of the master's house or furniture. The one was the basin for
his feet; the other, the corner where he kept his sandals.

If the text of ver. 8 _c_ is correct, Philistia is addressed with
bitter sarcasm, and bidden to repeat her ancient shouts of triumph
over Israel now, if she can. But the edition of these verses in Psalm
cviii. gives a more natural reading, which may be adopted here: "Over
Philistia will I shout aloud."

The third part (vv. 9-12) is taken by some commentators to breathe
the same spirit as the first part. Cheyne, for instance, speaks of
it as a "relapse into despondency," whilst others more truly hear
in it the tones of rekindled trust. In ver. 9 there is a remarkable
change of tense from "Who will bring?" in the first clause, to "Who
has guided?" in the second. This is best explained by the supposition
that some victory over Edom had preceded the psalm, which is regarded
by the singer as a guarantee of success in his assault of "the fenced
city," probably Petra. There is no need to supplement ver. 10, so as
to read, "Wilt not Thou, O God, which," etc. The psalmist recurs to
his earlier lament, not as if he thought that it still held true, but
just because it does not. It explained the reason of past disasters;
and, being now reversed by the Divine Oracle, becomes the basis of
the prayer which follows. It is as if he had said, "We were defeated
because Thou didst cast us off. Now help as Thou hast promised, and we
shall do deeds of valour." It is impossible to suppose that the result
of the Divine answer which makes the very heart of the psalm, should
be a hopeless repetition of the initial despondency. Rather glad faith
acknowledges past weakness and traces past failures to self-caused
abandonment by a loving God, who let His people be worsted that they
might learn who was their strength, and ever goes forth with those who
go forth to war with the consciousness that all help but His is vain,
and with the hope that in Him even their weakness shall do deeds of
prowess. "Hast not Thou cast us off?" may be the utterance of despair;
but it may also be that of assured confidence, and the basis of a
prayer that will be answered by God's present help.




                               PSALM LXI.

  1  Hear, O God, my shrill cry,
     Attend to my prayer.

  2  From the end of the earth I cry to Thee, when my heart is wrapped
                [in gloom]:
     Lead me on to a rock that is too high for me to [reach]
  3  For Thou hast been a place of refuge for me,
     A tower of strength from the face of the foe.
  4  Let me dwell a guest in Thy tent for ever,
     Let me find refuge in the covert of Thy wings. Selah.
  5  For Thou, O God, hast hearkened to my vows,
     Thou hast given [me] the heritage of them that fear Thy name.

  6  Days mayest Thou add to the days of the king,
     May his years be as many generations.
  7  May he sit before God for ever:
     Give charge to loving-kindness and troth, that they guard him.

  8  So will I harp to Thy name for aye,
     That I may fulfil my vows day by day.


The situation of the singer in this psalm is the same as in Psalm
lxiii. In both he is an exile longing for the sanctuary, and in both
"the king" is referred to in a way which leaves his identity with
the psalmist questionable. There are also similarities in situation,
sentiment, and expression with Psalms xlii. and xliii.--_e.g._,
the singers exile, his yearning to appear in the sanctuary, the
command given by God to His Loving-kindness (xlii. 8 and lxi. 8),
the personification of Light and Troth as his guides (xliii. 3),
compared with the similar representation here of Loving-kindness
and Troth as guards set by God over the psalmist. The traditional
attribution of the psalm to David has at least the merit of providing
an appropriate setting for its longings and hopes, in his flight from
Absalom. No one of the other dates proposed by various critics seems
to satisfy anybody but its proposer. Hupfeld calls Hitzig's suggestion
"wunderbar zu lesen." Graetz inclines to the reign of Hezekiah and
thinks that "the connection gains" if the prayer for the preservation
of the king's life refers to that monarch's sickness. The Babylonish
captivity, with Zedekiah for "the king," is preferred by others. Still
later dates are in favour now. Cheyne lays it down that "pre-Jeremian
such highly spiritual hymns (_i.e._, Psalms lxi. and lxiii.) obviously
cannot be," and thinks that "it would not be unplausible to make
them contemporaneous with Psalm xlii., the king being Antiochus the
Great," but prefers to assign them to the Maccabean period, and to
take "Jonathan, or (better) Simon" as the king. Are "highly spiritual
hymns" probable products of that time?

If the Selah is accepted as marking the end of the first part of the
psalm, its structure is symmetrical, so far as it is then divided into
two parts of four verses each; but that division cuts off the prayer
in ver. 4 from its ground in ver. 5. Selah frequently occurs in the
middle of a period, and is used to mark emphasis, but not necessarily
division. It is therefore better to keep vv. 4 and 5 together, thus
preserving their analogy with vv. 2 and 3. The scheme of this little
psalm will then be an introductory verse, followed by two parallel
pairs of verses, each consisting of petition and its grounding in past
mercies (vv. 2, 3, and 4, 5), and these again succeeded by another
pair containing petitions for the king, while a final single verse,
corresponding to the introductory one, joyfully foresees life-long
praise evoked by the certain answers to the singer's prayer.

The fervour of the psalmist's supplication is strikingly expressed
by his use in the first clause, of the word which is ordinarily
employed for the shrill notes of rejoicing. It describes the quality
of the sound as penetrating and emotional, not the nature of the
emotion expressed by it. Joy is usually louder-tongued than sorrow;
but this suppliant's need has risen so high that his cry is resonant.
To himself he seems to be at "the end of the earth"; for he measures
distance not as a map-maker, but as a worshipper. Love and longing are
potent magnifiers of space. His heart "faints," or is "overwhelmed."
The word means literally "covered," and perhaps the metaphor may be
preserved by some such phrase as _wrapped in gloom_. He is, then,
an exile, and therefore sunk in sadness. But while he had external
separation from the sanctuary chiefly in view, his cry wakes an
echo in all devout hearts. They who know most about the inner life
of communion with God best know how long and dreary the smallest
separation between Him and them seems, and how thick is the covering
spread over the heart thereby.

The one desire of such a suppliant is for restoration of interrupted
access to God. The psalmist embodies that yearning in its more outward
form, but not without penetrating to the inner reality in both the
parallel petitions which follow. In the first of these, (ver. 2 _b_)
the thought is fuller than the condensed expression of it. "Lead
me on" or in, says he, meaning, Lead me _to_ and set me _on_. His
imagination sees towering above him a great cliff, on which, if he
could be planted, he might defy pursuit or assault. But he is distant
from it, and the inaccessibility which, were he in its clefts, would
be his safety, is now his despair. Therefore he turns to God and asks
Him to bear him up in His hands, that he may set his foot on that
rock. The figure has been, strangely enough, interpreted to mean a
rock of difficulty, but against the usage in the Psalter. But we do
not reach the whole significance of the figure if we give it the mere
general meaning of a place of safety. While it would be too much to
say that "rock" is here an epithet of God (the absence of the definite
article and other considerations are against that), it may be affirmed
that the psalmist, like all devout men, knew that his only place of
safety was in God. "_A_ rock" will not afford adequate shelter; our
perils and storms need "_the_ Rock." And, therefore, this singer bases
his prayer on his past experience of the safe hiding that he had found
in God. Place of refuge and strong tower are distinctly parallel with
"rock." The whole, then, is like the prayer in Psalm xxxi. 2, 3: "Be
Thou to me a strong rock. For Thou art my rock."

The second pair of verses, containing petition and its ground in past
experience (vv. 4, 5), brings out still more clearly the psalmist's
longing for the sanctuary. The futures in ver. 4 may be taken either
as simple expressions of certainty, or, more probably, as precative,
as is suggested by the parallelism with the preceding pair. The "tent"
of God is the sanctuary, possibly so called because at the date of the
psalm "the ark of God dwelt in curtains." The "hiding-place of Thy
wings" may then be an allusion to the Shechinah and outspread pinions
of the Cherubim. But the inner reality is more to the psalmist than
the external symbols, however his faith was trained to connect the
two more indissolubly than is legitimate for us. His longing was no
superstitious wish to be near that sanctuary, as if external presence
brought blessing, but a reasonable longing, grounded on the fact for
his stage of revelation, that such presence was the condition of
fullest realisation of spiritual communion, and of the safety and
blessedness thence received. His prayer is the deepest desire of every
soul that has rightly apprehended the facts of life, its own needs and
the riches of God. The guests in God's dwelling have guest-rights of
provision and protection. Beneath His wings are safety, warmth, and
conscious nearness to His heart. The suppliant may feel far off, at
the end of the world; but one strong desire has power to traverse all
the distance in a moment. "Where the treasure is, there will the heart
be also"; and where the heart is, there the man is.

The ground of this second petition is laid in God's past listening to
vows, and His having given the psalmist "the heritage of those that
fear Thy name." That is most naturally explained as meaning primarily
the land of Israel, and as including therein all other blessings
needful for life there. While it is capable of being otherwise
understood, it is singularly appropriate to the person of David during
the period of Absalom's rebellion, when victory was beginning to
declare itself for the king. If we suppose that he had already won a
battle (2 Sam. xviii. 6), we can understand how he takes that success
as an omen and urges it as a plea. The pair of verses will then be one
instance of the familiar argument which trustful hearts instinctively
use, when they present past and incomplete mercies as reasons for
continued gifts, and for the addition of all which is needed to
"perfect that which concerneth" them. It rests on the confidence that
God is not one who "begins and is not able to finish."

Very naturally, then, follows the closing prayer in vv. 6, 7. The
purely individual character of the rest of the psalm, which is resumed
in the last verse, where the singer, speaking in the first person,
represents his continual praise as the result of the answer to his
petitions for the king, makes these petitions hopelessly irrelevant,
unless the psalmist is the king and these prayers are for himself.
The transition to the third person does not necessarily negative this
interpretation, which seems to be required by the context. The prayer
sounds hyperbolical, but has a parallel in Psalm xxi. 4, and need not be
vindicated by taking the dynasty rather than the individual to be meant,
or by diverting it to a Messianic reference. It is a prayer for length
of days, in order that the deliverance already begun may be perfected,
and that the psalmist may dwell in the house of the Lord for ever (_cf._
Psalms xxiii. 6; xxvii. 4). He asks that he may sit enthroned before God
for ever--that is, that his dominion may by God's favour be established
and his throne upheld in peace. The psalm is in so far Messianic that
the everlasting kingdom of the Christ alone fulfils its prayer.

The final petition has, as has been noticed above, parallels in
Psalms xlii., xliii., to which may be added the personifications of
Goodness and Loving-kindness in Psalm xxiii. 6. These bright harnessed
angels stand sentries over the devout suppliant, set on their guard
by the great Commander; and no harm can come to him over whom God's
Loving-kindness and Faithfulness keep daily and nightly watch.

Thus guarded, the psalmist's prolonged life will be one long anthem
of praise, and the days added to his days will be occupied with the
fulfilment of his vows made in trouble and redeemed in his prosperity.
What congruity is there between this closing verse, which is knit
closely to the preceding by that "So," and the previous pair of
verses, unless the king is himself the petitioner? "Let _him_ sit
before God for ever"--how comes that to lead up to "So will _I_ harp
to Thy name for ever"? Surely the natural answer is, Because "he" and
"I" are the same person.




                              PSALM LXII.

   1  Only upon God [waits] my soul [in] silence:
      From Him is my salvation.
   2  Only He is my rock and my salvation,
      My high tower, I shall not be greatly moved.
   3  How long will ye rush upon a man?
      [How long] will ye all of you break him down,
      Like a bulging wall, a tottering fence?
   4  Only from his elevation do they consult to thrust him down, they
                delight in lies:
      Each blesses with his mouth, and in their inner [part] they curse.
                Selah.

   5  Only to God be silent, my soul,
      For from Him is my expectation.
   6  Only He is my rock and my salvation,
      My high tower; I shall not be moved.
   7  On God is my salvation and my glory,
      The rock of my strength, my refuge, is in God.
   8  Trust in him in every time, O people!
      Pour out before Him your heart,
      God is a refuge for us. Selah.

   9  Only vanity are the sons of the lowly, a lie are the sons of the
                lofty,
      In the scales they go up, they are [lighter] than vanity
                altogether.
  10  Trust not in oppressions and in robbery become not vain,
      When wealth grows, set not your heart thereon.
  11  Once has God spoken, twice have I heard this,
      That strength [belongs] to God.
  12  And to Thee, O God, [belongs] loving-kindness,
      For Thou, Thou renderest to a man according to his work.


There are several points of affinity between this psalm and
the thirty-ninth,--such as the frequent use of the particle of
asseveration or restriction ("surely" or "only"); the rare
and beautiful word for "silence," as expressing restful, still
resignation; and the characterisation of men as "vanity." These
resemblances are not proofs of identity of authorship, though
establishing a presumption in its favour. Delitzsch accepts the psalm
as Davidic, and refers it to the time of Absalom's revolt. The singer
is evidently in a position of dignity ("elevation," ver. 4), and one
whose exhortations come with force to the "people" (ver. 8), whether
that word is understood as designating the nation or his immediate
followers. Cheyne, who relegates the psalm to the Persian period,
feels that the recognition of the singer as "a personage who is the
Church's bulwark" is the natural impression on reading the psalm
("Orig. of Psalt.," 227, and 242, _n._). If so, David's position is
precisely that which is required. Whoever sang this immortal psalm,
rose to the heights of conquering faith, and gave voice to the deepest
and most permanent emotions of devout souls.

The psalm is in three strophes of four verses each, the divisions
being marked by Selah. The two former have a long refrain at the
beginning, instead of, as usually, at the end. In the first the
psalmist sets his quiet trust in contrast with the furious assaults of
his foes; while, in the second, he stirs himself to renewed exercise
of it, and exhorts others to share with him in the security of God as
a place of refuge. In the third strophe the nothingness of man is set
in strong contrast to the power and loving-kindness of God, and the
dehortation from trust in material wealth urged as the negative side
of the previous exhortation to trust in God.

The noble saying of ver. 1 _a_ is hard to translate without weakening.
The initial word may have the meanings of "Only" or "Surely." The
former seems more appropriate in this psalm, where it occurs six
times, in one only of which (ver. 4) does the latter seem the more
natural rendering, though even there the other is possible. It is,
however, to be noticed that its restrictive power is not always
directed to the adjacent word; and here it may either present God as
the exclusive object of the psalmist's waiting trust, or his whole
soul as being nothing else but silent resignation. The reference to
God is favoured by ver. 2, but the other is possible. The psalmist's
whole being is, as it were, but one stillness of submission. The
noises of contending desires, the whispers of earthly hopes, the
mutterings of short-sighted fears, the self-asserting accents of an
insisting will, are hushed, and all his nature waits mutely for God's
voice. No wonder that a psalm which begins thus should end with "God
hath spoken once, twice have I heard this"; for such waiting is never
in vain. The soul that cleaves to God is still; and, being still, is
capable of hearing the Divine whispers which deepen the silence which
they bless. "There is no joy but calm"; and the secret of calm is to
turn the current of the being to God. Then it is like a sea at rest.

The psalmist's silence finds voice, which does not break it, in saying
over to himself what God is to him. His accumulation of epithets
reminds us of Psalm xviii. 1, 2. Not only does his salvation come
from God, but God Himself is the salvation which He sends forth like
an angel. The recognition of God as his defence is the ground of
"silence"; for if He is "my rock and my salvation," what can be wiser
than to keep close to Him, and let Him do as He will? The assurance of
personal safety is inseparable from such a thought of God. Nothing
which does not shake the rock can shake the frail tent pitched on it.
As long as the tower stands, its inhabitant can look down from his
inaccessible fastness with equanimity, though assailed by crowds.
Thus the psalmist turns swiftly, in the latter pair of verses making
up the first strophe, to address remonstrances to his enemies, as
engaged in a useless effort, and then drops direct address and speaks
_of_ their hostility and treachery. The precise meaning of parts of
ver. 3 has been misapprehended, by reason of the peculiarities of some
of the words and the condensed character of the imagery in _b_, _c_.
The rendering above is substantially that generally accepted now. It
sets in striking contrast the single figure of the psalmist and the
multitude of his assailants. "All of you" rush upon a man like a pack
of hounds on one defenceless creature, and try to break him down,
as men put their shoulders to a wall in order to overthrow it. The
partial success of the assault is hinted in the epithets applied to
wall and fence, which are painted as beginning to give under pressure.
Language of confidence sounds strangely in such circumstances. But
the toppling wall, with all these strong men pushing at it, will "not
be greatly moved." The assailants might answer the psalmist's "How
long?" with defiant confidence that a short time only was needed to
complete the begun ruin; but he, firm in his faith, though tottering
in his fortunes, knows better, and, in effect, tells them by his
question that, however long they may press against his feebleness,
they will never overthrow him. The bulging wall outlasts its would-be
destroyers. But appeal to them is vain; for they have one settled
purpose absorbing them--namely, to cast him down from his height. He
is, then, probably in some position of distinction, threatened by
false friends, who are plotting his deposition, while their words are
fair. All these circumstances agree well with the Davidic authorship.

The second strophe reiterates the refrain, with slight but significant
variations, and substitutes for the address to and contemplation
of the plotters a meditation on the psalmist's own security, and
an invitation to others to share it. In ver. 5 the refrain is
changed from a declaration of the psalmist's silent waiting to
self-exhortation thereto. Cheyne would assimilate the two verses
by making both verbs imperatives; but that change destroys the
beautiful play of feeling, so true to experience, which passes from
consciousness of one's attitude towards God to effort at preserving
it. No emotions, however blessed, deep, and real, will last, unless
perpetually renewed. Like carbon points in electric lights, they burn
away as they burn, and the light dies, unless there is some impulse
which presses a fresh surface forward to receive the fiery kiss that
changes its blackness into radiance. The "expectation" in ver. 5 _b_
is substantially equivalent to the "salvation" in ver. 1 _b_. It means
not the emotion (which could not be said to be "from Him"), but the
thing expected, just as "hope" is used for the _res sperata_. The
change in expression from "salvation" to "expectation" makes prominent
the psalmist's attitude. In his silence his wistful eyes look up,
watching for the first far-off brightening which tells him that help
is on its road from the throne. Salvation will not come unexpected,
and expectation will not look for succours in vain.

There may be deep meaning in the slight omission of "greatly" in the
second refrain. Confidence has grown. The first hope was that the
waiting heart should not be much shaken, that the tottering fence
should not be quite thrown down; the second is that it shall not be
shaken at all. An access of faith has poured into the singer's soul
with his song; and now he has no thought of the crowd of assailants,
who have faded from his sight because he is gazing on God. Hence the
second pair of verses in this strophe (vv. 7, 8) substitutes for the
description of their fierce rush the triumphant reiteration of what
God is to the psalmist, and an invitation to others to come with him
into that strong refuge. The transition to addressing the "people" is
natural, if the psalm is David's. The phrase would then apply to his
immediate followers, who were one with him in peril, and whom he would
fain have one with him in trust. But the LXX. has another reading,
which involves only the insertion of a letter, that may easily have
dropped out, in the word rendered "time," and which makes the verse
run more smoothly. It reads "all the congregation of the people," in
which it is followed by Baethgen, Cheyne, and others. Whoever the
psalmist was, he felt the impulse which follows all deep experience
of the security that comes from hiding in God--namely, the longing
to beckon in others out of the storm into peace. Every man who has
learned that God is a refuge for him is thereby assured that He is the
same for all men, and thereby moved to beseech them to make the like
blessed discovery. The way into that hiding-place is trust. "Pour out
before Him your heart," says the psalmist. "In everything by prayer
and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known
unto God," says Paul. They both mean the same thing. We take refuge
in our refuge when we set our faith on God, and tell Him all that
threatens or troubles us. When we do, we are no longer in the open,
defenceless before the rush of enemies, but housed in God, or, as Paul
puts it, guarded in Christ Jesus, as in a fortress. No wonder that the
psalm pauses for a moment on that thought, and lets the notes of harp
and horn impress it on the listeners!

The third strophe sets the emptiness of men in strong contrast to the
sufficiency of God. "Vanity" is literally "a breath," and would better
be so rendered in ver. 9, but for the recurrence of the verb from the
same root in ver. 10, which requires the rendering "be not vain." It is
desirable to preserve identity of translation, so as to retain the play
of words. But by doing so ver. 9 is somewhat weakened. The eyes that
have been looking on God are cleared to see the shadowy nothingness of
men of all degrees. The differences of high and low dwindle when seen
from that "high tower," as lower lands appear flat when viewed from a
mountain top. They are but "breath," so fleeting, unsubstantial are
they. They are a "lie," in so far as hopes directed to them are deceived
and trust misplaced. The singer is not cynically proclaiming man's
worthlessness, but asserting his insufficiency as the object of man's
trust. His point of view is different from that of Psalm xxxix., though
his words are the same. The "Only" which begins ver. 9 carries us back
to the similar beginning of the preceding strophes, and brings out the
true force of the following words, by suggesting the contrast between
men and the God on whom the psalmist's soul waits in silence. That
contrast may be further continued in ver. 9 _b_. The lowly and the lofty
are in one scale. What is in the other, the solid weight of which sends
them aloft as lighter? Is it pressing the metaphor too far to suppose
that the psalmist is weighing the whole mass of men against God only?
Heap them altogether and balance them against Him, and the gathered mass
does not weigh as much as an imponderable breath. Who could trust in
that emptiness when he has God to trust in? Who would grasp shadows when
he may cling to that eternal Substance?

The natural conclusion from ver. 9 follows in the exhortation of ver.
10, which completes the positive presentation of the true object of
trust (ver. 8) by the warning against false refuges. The introduction of
"oppression" and "robbery" is singular, for it can scarcely be supposed
that the assailants of the psalmist are here addressed, and still less
that his followers needed to be warned against these crimes. Cheyne,
therefore, follows Graetz and others in reading "perverseness" for
"oppression," and "crookedness" for "robbery"; but the alteration throws
the clause out of harmony with the next clause. It may be that in ver.
10 _a_ the psalmist has in view unjust gain and in _b_ justly acquired
wealth, and that thus his two dehortations cover the whole ground of
material riches, as if he had said, "Whether rightly or wrongly won,
they are wrongly used if they are trusted in." The folly and misery
of such trust are vigorously set forth by that word "become vain."
The curse of misplaced confidence is that it brings down a man to the
level of what he trusts in, as the blessing of wisely placed trust is
that it lifts him to that level. Trust in vanity is vain, and makes the
truster "vanity." Wind is not a nourishing diet. It may inflate, or, as
Paul says about knowledge, may "puff up," but not "build up." Men are
assimilated to the objects of their trust; and if these are empty, "so
is every one that trusteth in them."

So far the psalmist has spoken. But his silent waiting has been
rewarded with a clear voice from heaven, confirming that of his faith.
It is most natural to regard the double revelation received by the
psalmist as repeated in the following proclamation of the two great
aspects of the Divine nature--Power and Loving-kindness. The psalmist
has learned that these two are not opposed nor separate, but blend
harmoniously in God's nature, and are confluent in all His works.
Power is softened and directed by Loving-kindness. Loving-kindness
has as its instrument Omnipotence. The synthesis of these two is in
the God whom men are invited to trust; and such trust can never be
disappointed; for His Power and His Loving-kindness will co-operate
to "render to a man according to his work." The last word of the
psalm adds the conception of Righteousness to those of Power and
Loving-kindness. But the psalmist seems to have in view mainly one
direction in which that rendering "to a man according to his work" is
active--namely, in answering the trust which turns away from human
power which is weakness, and from human love which may change and must
die, to anchor itself on the might and tenderness of God. Such "work
of faith" will not be in vain; for these twin attributes of Power and
Love are pledged to requite it with security and peace.




                              PSALM LXIII.

   1  O God, my God art Thou, I seek Thee earnestly,
      My soul thirsts for Thee, my flesh pines for Thee,
      In a dry and weary land, without water.
   2  So in the sanctuary have I gazed on Thee,
      To see Thy power and Thy glory.
   3  For Thy loving-kindness is better than life,
      [Therefore] my lips shall praise Thee.
   4  So will I bless Thee while I live,
      In Thy name will I lift my hands.

   5  As [with] fat and marrow shall my soul be satisfied,
      And with lips that joyfully shout shall my mouth praise Thee,
   6  When I remember Thee on my bed,
      Through the watches [of the night] do I meditate on Thee.
   7  For Thou hast been a help for me,
      And in the shadow of Thy wings will I shout for joy.

   8  My soul cleaves [to and presses] after Thee,
      Me does Thy right hand uphold.
   9  But these--for its destruction they seek my soul;
      They shall go into the undermost parts of the earth.
  10  They shall be given over to the power of the sword,
      The portion of jackals shall they be.
  11  But the king shall rejoice in God,
      Every one that swears by Him shall glory,
      For the mouth of them that speak a lie shall be stopped.


If the psalmist is allowed to speak, he gives many details of his
circumstances in his song. He is in a waterless and weary land,
excluded from the sanctuary, followed by enemies seeking his life.
He expects a fight, in which they are to fall by the sword, and
apparently their defeat is to lead to his restoration to his kingdom.

These characteristics converge on David. Cheyne has endeavoured to
show that they fit the faithful Jews in the Maccabean period, and
that the "king" in ver. 2 is "Jonathan or [better] Simon" ("Orig. of
Psalt.," 99, and "Aids to Dev. Study of Crit.," 308 _seqq._). But
unless we are prepared to accept the dictum that "Pre-Jeremian such
highly spiritual hymns obviously cannot be" (_u.s._), the balance of
probability will be heavily in favour of the Davidic origin.

The recurrence of the expression "My soul" in vv. 1, 5, 8, suggests the
divisions into which the psalm falls. Following that clue, we recognise
three parts, in each of which a separate phase of the experience of the
soul in its communion with God is presented as realised in sequence by
the psalmist. The soul longs and thirsts for God (vv. 1-4). The longing
soul is satisfied in God (vv. 5-7). The satisfied soul cleaves to and
presses after God (vv. 8-11). These stages melt into each other in the
psalm as in experience, but are still discernible.

In the first strophe the psalmist gives expression in immortal words
to his longing after God. Like many a sad singer before and after
him, he finds in the dreary scene around an image of yet drearier
experiences within. He sees his own mood reflected in the grey
monotony of the sterile desert, stretching waterless on every side,
and seamed with cracks, like mouths gaping for the rain that does not
come. He is weary and thirsty; but a more agonising craving is in his
spirit, and wastes his flesh. As in the kindred Psalms xlii., xliii.,
his separation from the sanctuary has dimmed his sight of God. He
longs for the return of that vision in its former clearness. But even
while he thirsts, he in some measure possesses, since his resolve to
"seek earnestly" is based on the assurance that God is his God. In the
region of the devout life the paradox is true that we long precisely
because we have. Every soul is athirst for God; but unless a man can
say, "Thou art my God," he knows not how to interpret nor where to
slake his thirst, and seeks, not after the living Fountain of waters,
but after muddy pools and broken cisterns.

Ver. 2 is difficult principally because the reference of the initial
"So" is doubtful. By some it is connected with the first clause of
ver. 1: "So"--_i.e._, as my God--"have I seen Thee." Others suppose a
comparison to be made between the longing just expressed and former
ones, and the sense to be, "With the same eager desire as now I feel
in the desert have I gazed in the sanctuary." This seems the better
view. Hupfeld proposes to transpose the two clauses, as the A.V. has
done in its rendering, and thus gets a smoother run of thought. The
immediate object of the psalmist's desire is thus declared to be "to
behold Thy power and glory," and the "So" is substantially equivalent
to "According as." If we retain the textual order of the clauses, and
understand the first as paralleling the psalmist's desert longing with
that which he felt in the sanctuary, the second clause will state
the aim of the ardent gaze--namely, to "behold Thy power and Thy
glory." These attributes were peculiarly manifested amid the imposing
sanctities where the light of the Shechinah, which was especially
designated as "the Glory," shone above the ark.

The first clause of ver. 3 is closely connected with the preceding,
and gives the reason for some part of the emotion there expressed,
as the introductory "For" shows. But it is a question to which part
of the foregoing verses it refers. It is probably best taken as
assigning the reason for their main subject--namely, the psalmist's
thirst after God. "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be
also." Our desires are shaped by our judgments of what is good. The
conviction of God's transcendent excellence and absolute sufficiency
for all our cravings must precede the direction of these to Him.
Unless all enjoyments and possessions, which become ours through our
corporeal life, and that life itself, are steadfastly discerned to
be but a feather's weight in comparison with the pure gold of God's
loving-kindness, we shall not long for it more than for them.

The deep desires of this psalmist were occasioned by his seclusion
from outward forms of worship, which were to him so intimately related
to the inward reality, that he felt farther away from God in the
wilderness than when he caught glimpses of His face, through the power
and glory which he saw visibly manifested in the sanctuary. But in his
isolation he learns to equate his desert yearnings with his sanctuary
contemplations, and thus glides from longing to fruition. His
devotion, nourished by forms, is seen in the psalm in the very act of
passing on to independence of form; and so springs break out for him
in the desert. His passion of yearning after God rebukes and shames
our faint desires. This man's soul was all on the stretch to grasp and
hold God. His very physical frame was affected by his intense longing.
If he did not long too much, most men, even those who thirst after
God most, long terribly too little. Strong desire has a joy in its
very aching; feeble desire only makes men restless and uncomfortable.
Nothing can be more preposterous than tepid aspirations after the
greatest and only good. To hold as creed that God's loving-kindness
is better than life, and to wish a little to possess it, is surely
irrational, if anything is so.

The remaining clauses of ver. 3 and ver. 4 form a transition to the
full consciousness of satisfaction which animates the psalmist in the
second part. The resolve to praise, and the assurance that he will
have occasion to praise, succeed his longing with startling swiftness.
The "So" of ver. 4 seems to be equivalent to "Accordingly"--_i.e._,
since Thy loving-kindness is such supreme good, and is mine because I
have desired it. Continual praise and as continual invocation are the
fitting employments of those who receive it, and by these alone can
their possession of the loving-kindness bestowed be made permanent.
If empty palms are not ever lifted towards God, His gifts will not
descend. When these are received, they will fall like morning sunbeams
on stony and dumb lips, which before were only parted to let out
sighs, and will draw forth music of praise. There are longings which
never are satisfied; but God lets no soul that thirsts for Him perish
for lack of the water of life. Wisdom bids us fix our desires on that
Sovereign Good, to long for which is ennobling and blessed, and to
possess which is rest and the beginning of heaven.

Thus the psalmist passes imperceptibly to the second strophe, in which
the longing soul becomes the satisfied soul. The emblem of a feast
is naturally suggested by the previous metaphor of thirst. The same
conviction, which urged the psalmist forward in his search after God,
now assures him of absolute satisfaction in finding Him. Since God's
loving-kindness is better than life, the soul that possesses Him can
have no unappeased cravings, nor any yet hungry affections or wishes.
In the region of communion with God, fruition is contemporaneous with
and proportioned to desire. When the rain comes in the desert, what was
baked earth is soon rich pasture, and the dry torrent beds, where the
white stones glittered ghastly in the sunshine, are musical with rushing
streams and fringed with budding oleanders. On that telegraph a message
is flashed upwards and an answer speeds downwards, in a moment of time.
Many of God's gifts are delayed by Love; but the soul that truly desires
Him has never long to wait for a gift that equals its desire.

When God is possessed, the soul is satisfied. So entire is the
correspondence between wants and gift, that every concavity in us
finds, as it were, a convexity to match it in Him. The influx of the
great ocean of God fills every curve of the shore to the brim, and the
flashing glory of that sunlit sea covers the sands, and brings life
where stagnation reigned and rotted. So the satisfied soul lives to
praise, as the psalm goes on to vow. Lips that drink such draughts of
Loving-kindness will not be slow to tell its sweetness. If we have
nothing to say about God's goodness, the probable cause is our want of
experience of it.

That feast leaves no bitter taste. The remembrance of it is all but
as sweet as its enjoyment was. Thus, in ver. 6, the psalmist recounts
how, in the silent hours of night, when many joys are seen to be
hollow, and conscience wakes to condemn coarse delights, he recalled
his blessednesses in God, and, like a ruminant animal, tasted their
sweetness a second time. The verse is best regarded as an independent
sentence. So blessed was the thought of God, that, if once it rose
in his wakeful mind as he lay on his bed, he "meditated" on it
all the night. Hasty glances show little of anything great. Nature
does not unveil her beauty to a cursory look; much less does God
disclose His. If we would feel the majesty of the heavens, we must
gaze long and steadfastly into their violet depths. The mention of
the "night-watches" is appropriate, if this psalm is David's. He and
his band of fugitives had to keep vigilant guard as they lay down
shelterless in the desert; but even when thus ringed by possible
perils, and listening for the shout of nocturnal assailants, the
psalmist could recreate and calm his soul by meditation on God. Nor
did his experience of God's sufficiency bring only remembrances; it
kindled hopes. "For Thou hast been a help for me; and in the shadow
of Thy wings will I shout for joy." Past deliverances minister to
present trust and assure of future joy. The prerogative of the soul,
blessed in the sense of possessing God, is to discern in all that has
been the manifestations of His help, and to anticipate in all that is
to come the continuance of the same. Thus the second strophe gathers
up the experiences of the satisfied soul as being fruition, praise,
sweet lingering memories that fill the night of darkness and fear, and
settled trust in the coming of a future which will be of a piece with
such a present and past.

The third strophe (vv. 8-11) presents a stage in the devout soul's
experience which naturally follows the two preceding. Ver. 8 has a
beautifully pregnant expression for the attitude of the satisfied
soul. Literally rendered, the words run, "cleaves after Thee,"
thus uniting the ideas of close contact and eager pursuit. Such
union, however impossible in the region of lower aims, is the very
characteristic of communion with God, in which fruition subsists along
with longing, since God is infinite, and the closest approach to and
fullest possession of Him are capable of increase. Satisfaction tends
to become satiety when that which produces it is a creature whose
limits are soon reached; but the cup which God gives to a thirsty soul
has no cloying in its sweetness. On the other hand, to seek after Him
has no pain nor unrest along with it, since the desire for fuller
possession comes from the felt joy of present attainment. Thus, in
constant interchange satisfaction and desire beget each other, and
each carries with it some trace of the other's blessedness.

Another beautiful reciprocity is suggested by the very order of the
words in the two clauses of ver. 8. The first ends with "Thee"; the
second begins with "Me." The mutual relation of God and the soul is
here set forth. He who "cleaves after God" is upheld in his pursuit
by God's hand. And not in his pursuit only, but in all his life; for
the condition of receiving sustaining help is desire for it, directed
to God and verified by conduct. Whoever thus follows hard after God
will feel his outstretched, seeking hand inclosed in a strong and
loving palm, which will steady him against assaults and protect him in
dangers. "No man is able to pluck them out of the Father's hand," if
only they do not let it go. It may slip from slack fingers.

We descend from the heights of mystic communion in the remainder of
the psalm. But in the singer's mind his enemies were God's enemies,
and, as ver. 11 shows, were regarded as apostates from God in being
traitors to "the king." They did not "swear by Him"--_i.e._, they did
not acknowledge God as God. Therefore, such being their character, the
psalmist's confidence that God's right hand upheld him necessarily
passes into assurance of their defeat. This is not vindictiveness, but
confidence in the sufficiency of God's protection, and is perfectly
accordant with the lofty strains of the former part of the psalm.
The picture of the fate of the beaten foe is partly drawn from that
of Korah and his company. These rebels against God's king shall go,
where those rebels against His priest long ago descended. "They
shall be poured out upon the hands of the sword," or, more literally
still, "They shall pour him out," is a vigorous metaphor, incapable
of transference into English, describing how each single enemy is
given over helplessly, as water is poured out, to the sword, which is
energetically and to our taste violently, conceived of as a person
with hands. The meaning is plain--a battle is impending, and the
psalmist is sure that his enemies will be slain, and their corpses
torn by beasts of prey.

How can the "king's" rejoicing in God be the consequence of their
slaughter, unless they are rebels? And what connection would the
defeat of a rebellion have with the rest of the psalm, unless the
singer were himself the king? "This one line devoted to the king is
strange," says Cheyne. The strangeness is unaccounted for, but on
the supposition that David is the king and singer. If so, it is most
natural that his song should end with a note of triumph, and should
anticipate the joy of his own heart and the "glorying" of his faithful
followers, who had been true to God in being loyal to His anointed.




                              PSALM LXIV.

   1  Hear, O God, my voice in my complaint,
      From the fear of the enemy guard my life.
   2  Hide me from the secret assembly of evil-doers,
      From the noisy crowd of workers of iniquity:

   3  Who whet, like a sword, their tongue,
      [Who] aim [as] their arrow a bitter word,
   4  To shoot in hiding-places [at] the upright:
      Suddenly they shoot [at] him, and fear not.

   5  They strengthen themselves [in] an evil plan,
      They talk of laying snares,
      They say, Who looks at them?
   6  They scheme villainies,
      We have perfected [say they] a scheme [well] schemed:
      And the inward part of each, and [his] heart, is deep.

   7  But God shoots [at] them [with] an arrow,
      Suddenly come their wounds.
   8  And they are made to stumble,
      Their own tongue [comes] upon them,
      All who look on them shake the head.

   9  And all men fear,
      And declare the act of God,
      And understand His work.
  10  The righteous shall rejoice in Jehovah, and take refuge in Him,
      And all the upright in heart shall glory.


Familiar notes are struck in this psalm, which has no very distinctive
features. Complaint of secret slanderers, the comparison of their
words to arrows and swords, their concealed snares, their blasphemous
defiance of detection, the sudden flashing out of God's retribution,
the lesson thereby read to and learned by men, the vindication of God's
justice, and praise from all true hearts, are frequent themes. They are
woven here into a whole which much resembles many other psalms. But the
singer's heart is none the less in his words because many others before
him have had to make like complaints and to stay themselves on like
confidence. "We have all of us one human heart," and well-worn words
come fresh to each lip when the grip of sorrow is felt.

The division into pairs of verses is clear here. The burdened psalmist
begins with a cry for help, passes on to dilate on the plots of his
foes, turns swiftly from these to confidence in God, which brings
future deliverance into present peril and sings of it as already
accomplished, and ends with the assurance that his enemies' punishment
will witness for God and gladden the upright.

In the first pair of verses complaint is sublimed into prayer, and so
becomes strengthening instead of weakening. He who can cry "Hear, O
God, guard, hide" has already been able to hide in a safe refuge. "The
terror caused by the enemy" is already dissipated when the trembling
heart grasps at God; and escape from facts which warrant terror will
come in good time. This man knows himself to be in danger of his
life. There are secret gatherings of his enemies, and he can almost
hear their loud voices as they plan his ruin. What can he do, in such
circumstances, but fling himself on God? No thought of resistance has
he. He can _but_ pray, but he _can_ pray; and no man is helpless who
can look up. However high and closely engirdling may be the walls that
men or sorrows build around us, there is always an opening in the
dungeon roof, through which heaven is visible and prayers can mount.

The next two pairs of verse (3-6) describe the machinations of the
enemies in language for the most part familiar, but presenting some
difficulties. The metaphors of a slanderous tongue as a sword and
mischief-meaning words as arrows have occurred in several other
psalms (_e.g._, lv. 21; lvii. 4; lix. 7). The reference may either
be to calumnies or to murderous threats and plans. The latter is the
more probable. Secret plots are laid, which are suddenly unmasked.
From out of some covert of seeming friendship an unlooked-for arrow
whizzes. The archers "shoot, and fear not." They are sure of remaining
concealed, and fear neither man's detection of them nor God's.

The same ideas are enlarged on in the third verse-pair (5, 6) under a
new metaphor. Instead of arrows flying in secret, we have now snares
laid to catch unsuspecting prey. "They strengthen themselves [in]
an evil plan" (lit. _word_) pictures mutual encouragement and fixed
determination. They discuss the best way of entrapping the psalmist,
and, as in the preceding verse, flatter themselves that their subtle
schemes are too well buried to be observed, whether by their victim or
by God. Ver. 6 tells without a figure the fact meant in both figures.
"They scheme villainies," and plume themselves upon the cleverness of
their unsuspected plots. The second clause of the verse is obscure. But
the suppositions that in it the plotters speak as in the last clause
of the preceding verse, and that "they say" or the like expression is
omitted for the sake of dramatic effect, remove much of the difficulty.
"We have schemed a well-schemed plan" is their complacent estimate.

God's retribution scatters their dreams of impunity, as the next pair of
verses (7, 8) tells. The verbs are in the past tense, though the events
described are still in the future; for the psalmist's faith reckons them
to be as good as done. They were shooting at him. God will shoot at
them. The archer becomes a target. "With what measure ye mete, it shall
be measured to you again." Punishment is moulded after the guise of sin.
The allusion to ver. 4 is made more obvious by adopting a different
division of ver. 7 from that directed by the accents, and beginning the
second half with "Suddenly," as in ver. 4. Ver. 8 _b_ is with difficulty
made intelligible with the existing reading. Probably the best that can
be done with it is to render it as above, though it must be acknowledged
that "their tongue comes upon them" needs a good deal of explanation
to be made to mean that the consequences of their sins of speech fall
on them. The drift of the clause must be that retribution falls on the
offending tongue; but there is probably some textual corruption now
unremovable. Cheyne wisely falls back on asterisks. Whatever is the
precise nature of the instance of _lex talionis_ in the clause, it is
hailed with gestures of scornful approval by all beholders. Many men
approve the Divine punishments, who have no deep horror of the sins that
are punished. There is something of a noble, if rough, sense of justice
in most men, and something of an ignoble satisfaction in seeing the
downfall of the powerful, and both sentiments set heads nodding approval
of God's judgments.

The psalm closes with the familiar thought that these judgments will
move to wholesome awe and be told from lip to lip, while they become
to the righteous occasion of joy, incitements to find refuge in God,
and material for triumph. These are large consequences to flow from
one man's deliverance. The anticipation would be easily explained if we
took the speaker to be the personified nation. But it would be equally
intelligible if he were in any way a conspicuous or representative
person. The humblest may feel that his experience of Divine deliverance
witnesses, to as many as know it, of a delivering God. That is a high
type of godliness which, like this psalmist, counts the future as so
certain that it can be spoken of as present even in peril. It augurs a
still higher to welcome deliverance, not only for the ease it brings to
the suppliant, but for the glory it brings to God.




                               PSALM LXV.

   1  To Thee silence is praise, O God, in Zion,
      And to Thee shall the vow be paid.
   2  O Thou hearer of prayer,
      To Thee all flesh comes.
   3  Deeds of iniquity have been too strong for me:
      Our transgressions--Thou, Thou coverest them.
   4  Blessed is he whom Thou choosest and bringest near,
      That he may dwell in Thy courts:
      We would be filled with the goodness of Thy house,
      Thy holy temple.

   5  By dread deeds in righteousness Thou dost answer us, O God of our
                salvation,
      The confidence of all the ends of the earth and of the remotest
                sea:
   6  Setting fast the mountains by His strength,
      Being girded with might,
   7  Stilling the roar of the seas, the roar of their billows,
      And the tumult of the peoples.
   8  So that the inhabitants of the ends [of the earth] become afraid
                at Thy signs:
      The regions whence morning and evening come forth
      Thou makest to shout for joy.

   9  Thou hast visited the land and watered it,
      Thou enrichest it abundantly [by] a river of God, full of water,
      Thou preparest their corn when thus Thou preparest it:
  10  Watering its furrows, levelling its ridges,
      With showers Thou softenest it,
      Its outgrowth Thou dost bless.
  11  Thou hast crowned the year of Thy goodness,
      And Thy chariot-tracks drop fatness.
  12  The pastures of the wilderness drop,
      And the heights gird themselves with leaping gladness.
  13  The meadows are clothed with flocks,
      And the valleys are covered with corn,
      They shout for joy, they also sing.


This and the two following psalms form a little group, with one great
thought dominant in each--namely, that God's manifestations of grace
and providence to Israel are witnesses to the world. They all reach
out to "the ends of the earth" in yearning and confidence that God's
name will be adored there, and they all regard His dealings with His
people as His appeals to mankind, which will not always be vain.
Psalm lxv. begins with that privilege of approach to God with which
Psalm lxvi. ends. In both, iniquity in heart is regarded as hindering
access to God; and, in both, the psalmist's experience of answered
prayer is treated as testimony for the world of the blessedness of
worshipping Israel's God. This psalm falls into three parts, which set
forth a threefold revelation of God in His acts. The first (vv. 1-4)
deals with the most intimate privileges of the men who dwell in His
house. The second (vv. 5-8) points to His rule in nature, the tokens
of God's power in the mighty things of creation--mountains, ocean,
day and night, the radiant east, the solemn sunset-west. The third
(vv. 9-13) gives a lovely picture of the annual miracle which brings
harvest joys. The underlying thought binding these three parts into
unity seems to be the witness to God's name which each set of His
acts bears--a witness which "they that dwell in the uttermost parts"
hear sounded in their ears. If this is the true view of the psalm, we
may hear a reminiscence of it in Paul's remonstrance with the rude
Lycaonian peasants: "He left not Himself without witness, in that He
did good, and gave you rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling
your hearts with food and gladness."

The first strophe is wholly concerned with the glory of God as
answering prayer. It begins with enigmatical words, which, if the
existing text is adhered to, carry a deep truth. There are two kinds
of prayer--wordless submission of will and spoken vows. The former is
truly praise. The same thought is found in Psalm lxii. It goes down
to the root of the matter. The true notion of prayer is not that of
swaying God's will to gratify ours, but that of bringing ours into
unremonstrating acceptance of His. When the accents of eager desire or
of impatient murmuring and vain sobs and weeping are hushed, the still
soul enters into closeness of communion, else unattainable. Beautiful
and profoundly true as this is, it is not indubitably the psalmist's
meaning; and there is much to be said for the rendering which is adopted
from the LXX. by many commentators, and which only requires a slight
change in the vocalisation--namely, "Praise is meet for Thee." But
that idea is expressed in Psalm xxxiii. 1 by a different word, and the
meaning of the one used here is not _to be suitable for_, but _to be
like_. So that we have to choose between altering the text and then
imposing a somewhat unusual meaning on the word gained, and adhering
to the present reading and gaining a meaning which is admitted to be
"fine" but alleged to be "unbiblical." On the whole, that meaning seems
preferable. The convictions that God accepts silent devotion and answers
vows, so that the thank-offering promised in trouble will be called
for by deliverance, "fill the psalmist with a longing that all mankind
may have recourse to the same Divine Friend" (Cheyne, _in loc._). His
experience of accepted prayers has taught him that it is God's nature
and property to be "the hearer of prayer" (the word is a participle,
expressive of a permanent characteristic), and therefore he is sure that
"all flesh," in its weariness and need of an ear into which to pour
necessities and sorrows, will come to Him. His eye travels far beyond
Israel, and contemplates mankind as coming to worship. But one black
barrier rises between men and God, the separating power of which the
singer has painfully felt. Sin chokes the stream that would flow from
seeking hearts into the ocean of God. The very act of gathering himself
up to pray and praise quickens the sense of sinfulness in the psalmist.
Therefore his look turns swiftly inwards, for the only time in the
psalm. The consciousness of transgression wakes the sense of personality
and isolation as nothing else will, and for one bitter moment the
singer is, as it were, prisoned in the awful solitude of individual
responsibility. His words reflect his vivid sight of his sins in their
manifoldness, for he says that "matters of iniquities" have overcome
him. The exuberant expression is not tautological, but emotional. And
then he passes into sunshine again, and finds that, though he had to be
alone in guilt, he is one of a company in the experience of forgiveness.
Emphatically he reduplicates "Thou" in his burst of confidence in God's
covering of sins; for none but God can cope with the evil things that
are too strong for man. I can neither keep them out, nor drive them
out when they have come in, nor cleanse the stains that their hoofs
have made; but Thou, Thou canst and dost cover them. Is not that an
additional reason for "all flesh" coming to God, and almost a guarantee
that they will?

The strophe ends with an exclamation celebrating the blessedness of
dwelling with God. That refers, no doubt, to Israel's prerogative
of access to the Temple; but the inward and outward are blended, as
in many places in the Psalter where dwelling in the house of the
Lord is yearned for or rejoiced in. The universalism of the psalm
does not forget the special place held by the nation whom God "has
chosen and brought near." But the reality beneath the symbol is too
familiar and sweet to this singer for him to suppose that mere outward
access exhausts the possibilities of blessed communion. It is no
violent forcing more into his words than they contain, if we read in
them deeply spiritual truths. It is noteworthy that they follow the
reference to forgiveness, and, when taken in conjunction therewith,
may be called an itinerary of the road to God. First comes forgiveness
by expiation, for such is the meaning of "covering," Then the cleansed
soul has "access with confidence"; then approaching, it happily dwells
a guest in the house, and is supplied with that which satisfies all
desires. The guest's security in the house of his host, his right to
protection, help, and food, are, as usual, implied in the imagery. The
prerogative of his nation, which the psalmist had in mind, is itself
imagery, and the reality which it shadowed is that close abiding
in God which is possible by faith, love, communion of spirit, and
obedience of life, and which, wherever realised, keeps a soul in a
great calm, whatever tempests rave, and satisfies its truest needs
and deepest longings, whatever famine may afflict the outward life.
Forgiven men may dwell with God. They who do are blessed.

The second strophe (vv. 5-8) celebrates another aspect of God's
manifestation by deeds, which has, in like manner, a message for the
ends of the earth. Israel is again the immediate recipient of God's
acts, but they reverberate through the world. Therefore in ver. 5 the
two clauses are not merely adjacent, but connected. It is because God is
ever revealing Himself to the nation (for the tense of the verb "answer"
expresses continuous action) that He is revealed as the trust of the
whole earth. God's grace fructifies through Israel to all. How clearly
the psalmist had grasped the truth that God has limited the knowledge of
Himself to one spot of earth in order to its universal diffusion!

The light is focussed and set in a tower that it may shine out over sea
and storm. The fire is gathered into a brasier that it may warm all
the house. Some commentators take that strong expression "the trust of
all the ends of the earth" as asserting that even the confidences of
idolaters in their gods are at bottom trust in Jehovah and find their
way to Him. But such a view of idolatry is foreign to the Old Testament,
and is not needed to explain the psalmist's words. God is the only
worthy object of trust, and remains so whether men do in fact trust Him
or not. And one day, thinks the psalmist, God's patient manifestation
of His grace to Israel will tell, and all men will come to know Him for
what He is. "The remotest sea" is not translation, but paraphrase. The
psalmist speaks in vague terms, as one who knew not what lay beyond the
horizon of that little-traversed western ocean. Literally his words
are "the sea of the remote [peoples]"; but a possible emendation has
been suggested, reading instead of _sea_ "regions" or "nations." The
change is slight, and smooths an awkward expression, but destroys the
antithesis of earth and sea, and makes the second clause a somewhat weak
repetition of the first.

From the self-revelation of God in history the psalm passes to His
mighty deeds in nature (vv. 6, 7 _a_), and from these it returns to
His providential guidance of human affairs (ver. 7 _b_). The two
specimens of Divine power celebrated in vv. 6, 7, are suggested by the
closing words of ver. 5. "The ends of the earth" were, according to
ancient cosmography, girdled by mountains; and God has set these fast.
The dash of "the remotest seas" is hushed by Him. Two mighty things
are selected to witness to the Mightier who made and manages them. The
firm bulk of the mountains is firm because He is strong. The tossing
waves are still because He bids them be silent. How transcendently
great then is He, and how blind those who, seeing hill and ocean, do
not see God! The mention of the sea, the standing emblem of unrest
and rebellious power, suggests the "tumult of the peoples," on which
similar repressive power is exercised. The great deeds of God, putting
down tyranny and opposition to Israel, which is rebellion against
Himself, strike terror, which is wholesome and is purified into
reverence, into the distant lands; and so, from the place where the
sun rises to the "sad- end of evening" where it sinks in the
west, _i.e._, through all the earth, there rings out a shout of joy.
Such glowing anticipations of universal results from the deeds of God,
especially for Israel, are the products of diseased national vanity,
unless they are God-taught apprehension of the Divine purpose of
Israel's history, which shall one day be fulfilled, when the knowledge
of the yet more wondrous deeds which culminated in the Cross is spread
to the ends of the earth and the remotest seas.

God reveals Himself not only in the sanctities of His house, nor
in His dread "signs" in nature and history, but in the yearly
recurring harvest, which was waving, as yet unreaped, while the poet
sang. The local colouring which regards rain as the chief factor in
fertility and the special gift of God is noticeable. In such a land
as Palestine, irrigation seems the one thing needful to turn desert
into fruitful field. To "water" the soil is there emphatically to
"enrich" it. The psalmist uses for "river" the technical word for an
irrigation cutting, as if he would represent God in the guise of the
cultivator, who digs his ditches that the sparkling blessing may reach
all his field. But what a difference between men-made watercourses and
God's! The former are sometimes flooded, but often dry; His are full
of water. The prose of the figure is, of course, abundant rain. It
prepares the earth for the seed, and "so" in effect prepares the corn.
The one is the immediate, the other the ultimate issue and purpose.
Spring showers prepare autumn fruits. It is so in all regions of man's
endeavour and of God's work; and it is practical wisdom to train
ourselves to see the assurance of the end in His means, and to be
confident that whatever His doings have a manifest tendency to effect
shall one day be ripened and harvested. How lovingly and patiently
the psalm represents the Divine Husbandman as attending to all the
steps of the process needed for the great ingathering! He guides the
showers, He fills the little valleys of the furrows, and smooths down
the tiny hills of the intervening ridges. He takes charge of the
germinating seed, and His sunshine smiles a benediction on the tender
green blade, as it pricks through the earth which has been made soft
enough for it to pierce from beneath. This unhesitating recognition of
the direct action of God in all "natural" processes is the true point
of view from which to regard them. God is the only force; and His
immediate action is present in all material changes. The Bible knows
nothing of self-moving powers in nature, and the deepest conception of
God's relations to things sensible knows as little. "There is no power
but of God" is the last word of religion and of true philosophy.

The poet stands in the joyous time when all the beauty of summer flushes
the earth, and the harvest is yet a hope, not a possibly disappointing
reality. It is near enough to fill his song with exultation. It is
far enough off to let him look on the whitened fields, and not on the
bristly stubble. So he regards the "crown" as already set on a year of
goodness. He sees God's chariot passing in triumph and blessing over
the land, and leaving abundance wherever its wheel-tracks go. Out in
the uncultivated prairie, where sweet grass unsown by man grows, is the
flush of greenery, where, before the rain, was baked and gaping earth.
The hills, that wear a girdle of forest trees half-way up towards their
barren summits, wave their foliage, as if glad. The white fleeces of
flocks are dotted over the vivid verdure of every meadow, and one cannot
see the ground for the tall corn that stands waiting for the sickle, in
each fertile plain. The psalmist hears a hymn of glad praise rising from
all these happy and sunny things; and for its melody he hushes his own,
that he and we may listen to

          "The fair music that all creatures make
           To their great Lord."




                              PSALM LXVI.

   1  Shout joyfully to God, all the earth,
   2  Harp [unto] the glory of His name,
      Render glory [to Him by] His praise.
   3  Say to God, How dread are Thy works!
      For the greatness of Thy strength shall Thy enemies feign
                [submission] to Thee.
   4  All the earth shall bow down to Thee, and harp to Thee,
      They shall harp [to] Thy name. Selah.

   5  Come, and behold the deeds of God;
      He is dread in His doing towards the sons of men,
   6  He turned the sea to dry land,
      They went through the river on foot,
      There let us rejoice in Him.
   7  He rules by His might for ever;
      His eyes watch the nations,
      The rebellious--let them not exalt themselves. Selah.

   8  Bless our God, ye peoples,
      And let the voice of His praise be heard!
   9  Who has set our soul in life,
      And has not let our foot slip.
  10  For Thou hast proved us, O God,
      Thou hast refined us, as silver is refined.
  11  Thou hast brought us into the fortress-dungeon,
      Thou hast laid a heavy burden on our loins.
  12  Thou hast caused men to ride over our head,
      We have come into the fire and into the water,
      But Thou broughtest us out into abundance.

  13  I will go into Thy house with burnt offerings,
      I will render to Thee my vows,
  14  Which my lips uttered,
      And my mouth spoke, in my straits.
  15  Burnt offerings of fatlings will I offer to Thee,
      With the savour of rams,
      I will offer bullocks with goats. Selah.

  16  Come, hearken, and I will recount, all ye that fear God,
      What He has done for my soul.
  17  To Him did I cry with my mouth,
      And a song extolling [Him] was [already] under my tongue.
  18  If I had intended iniquity in my heart,
      The Lord would not hear:
  19  But surely God has heard,
      He has attended to the voice of my prayer.
  20  Blessed be God,
      Who has not turned away my prayer, nor His loving-kindness from
                me.


The most striking feature of this psalm is the transition from the
plural "we" and "our," in vv. 1-12, to the singular "I" and "my,"
in vv. 13-20. Ewald supposes that two independent psalms have been
united, but ver. 12 is as abrupt for an ending as ver. 13 is for a
beginning; and the "Come, hear," of ver. 16 echoes the "Come, and
see," of ver. 5. It is possible that "the 'I' of the second part
is identical with the 'we' of the first; in other words, that the
personified community speaks here" (Baethgen); but the supposition
that the psalm was meant for public worship, and is composed of a
choral and a solo part, accounts for the change of number. Such
expressions as "my soul" and "my heart" favour the individual
reference. Of course, the deliverance magnified by the single voice is
the same as that celebrated by the loud acclaim of many tongues; but
there is a different note in the praise of the former--there is a tone
of inwardness in it, befitting individual appropriation of general
blessings. To this highest point, that of the action of the single
soul in taking the deliverances of the community for its very own,
and pouring out its own praise, the psalm steadily climbs. It begins
with the widest outlook over "all the earth," summoned to ring forth
joyous praise. It ends focussed to one burning point, in a heart fired
by the thought that God "has not turned away his loving-kindness from
_me_." So we learn how each single soul has to claim its several part
in world-wide blessings, as each flower-calyx absorbs the sunshine
that floods the pastures.

The psalm has no superscription of date or author, and no clue in its
language to the particular deliverance that called it forth. The usual
variety of conjectures have been hazarded. The defeat of Sennacherib
occurs to some; the return from Babylon to others; the Maccabean
period to yet another school of critics. It belongs to a period when
Israel's world-significance and mission were recognised (which Cheyne
considers a post-exilic feature, "Orig. of Psalt.," 176), and when the
sacrificial worship was in full force; but beyond these there are no
clear data for period of composition.

It is divided into five strophes, three of which are marked by Selah.
That musical indication is wanting at the close of the third strophe
(ver. 12), which is also the close of the first or choral part, and
its absence may be connected with the transition to a single voice.
A certain progress in thought is noticeable, as will appear as we
proceed. The first strophe calls upon all the earth to praise God
for His works. The special deeds which fire the psalmist are not
yet mentioned, though they are present to his mind. The summons of
the world to praise passes over into prophecy that it shall praise.
The manifestation of God's character by act will win homage. The
great thought that God has but to be truly known in order to be
reverenced is an axiom with this psalmist; and no less certain is
he that such knowledge and such praise will one day fill the world.
True, he discerns that submission will not always be genuine; for he
uses the same word to express it as occurs in Psalm xviii. 44, which
represents "feigned homage." Every great religious awakening has a
fringe of adherents, imperfectly affected by it, whose professions
outrun reality, though they themselves are but half conscious that
they feign. But though this sobering estimate of the shallowness
of a widely diffused recognition of God tones down the psalmist's
expectations, and has been abundantly confirmed by later experience,
his great hope remains as an early utterance of the conviction, which
has gathered assurance and definiteness by subsequent Revelation, and
is now familiar to all. The world is God's. His Self-revelation will
win hearts. There shall be true submission and joyous praise, girdling
the earth as it rolls. The psalmist dwells mainly on the majestic and
awe-inspiring aspect of God's acts. His greatness of power bears down
opposition. But the later strophes introduce other elements of the
Divine nature and syllables of the Name, though the inmost secret of
the "power of God" in the weakness of manhood and the all-conquering
might of Love is not yet ripe for utterance.

The second strophe advances to a closer contemplation of the deeds
of God, which the nations are summoned to behold. He is not only
"dread" in His doings towards mankind at large, but Israel's history
is radiant with the manifestation of His name, and that past lives on,
so that ancient experiences give the measure and manner of to-day's
working. The retrospect embraces the two standing instances of God's
delivering help--the passage of the Red Sea and of Jordan--and these
are not dead deeds in a far-off century. For the singer calls on
his own generation to rejoice "there" in Him. Ver. 6 _c_ is by some
translated as "There did we rejoice," and more accurately by others,
"Let us rejoice." In the former case the essential solidarity of all
generations of the nation is most vividly set forth. But the same idea
is involved in the correct rendering, according to which the men of
the psalmist's period are entitled and invoked to associate themselves
in thought with that long-past generation, and to share in their joy,
since they do possess the same power which wrought then. God's work
is never antiquated. It is all a revelation of eternal activities.
What He has been, He is. What He did, He does. Therefore faith may
feed on all the records of old time, and expect the repetition of all
that they contain. Such an application of history to the present makes
the nerve of this strophe. For ver. 7, following on the retrospect,
declares the perpetuity of God's rule, and that His eyes still keep
an outlook, as a watchman on a tower might do, to mark the enemies'
designs, in order that He may intervene, as of old, for His people's
deliverance. He "looked forth upon the Egyptians through the pillar
of fire and of cloud" (Exod. xiv. 24). Thus He still marks the
actions and plans of Israel's foes. Therefore it were wise for the
"rebellious" not to rear their heads so high in opposition.

The third strophe comes still closer to the particular deliverance
underlying the psalm. Why should all "peoples" be called upon to praise
God for it? The psalmist has learned that Israel's history is meant
to teach the world what God is, and how blessed it is to dwell under
His wing. No exclusiveness taints his enjoyment of special national
privileges. He has reached a height far above the conceptions of the
rest of the world in his day, and even in this day, except where the
Christian conception of "humanity" has been heartily accepted. Whence
came this width of view, this purifying from particularism, this
anticipation by so many centuries of a thought imperfectly realised even
now? Surely a man who in those days and with that environment could soar
so high must have been lifted by something mightier than his own spirit.
The details of the Divine dealings described in the strophe are of small
consequence in comparison with its fixed expectation of the world's
participation in Israel's blessings. The familiar figures for affliction
reappear--namely, proving and refining in a furnace. A less common
metaphor is that of being prisoned in a _dungeon_, as the word rendered
"net" in the A.V. and R.V. probably means. Another peculiar image is
that of ver. 12: "Thou hast caused men to ride over our head." The word
for "men" here connotes feebleness and frailty, characteristics which
make tyranny more intolerable; and the somewhat harsh metaphor is best
explained as setting forth insolent and crushing domination, whether the
picture intended is that of ruthless conquerors driving their chariots
over their prone victims, or that of their sitting as an incubus on
their shoulders and making them like beasts of burden. Fire and water
are standing figures for affliction. With great force these accumulated
symbols of oppression are confronted by one abrupt clause ending the
strophe, and describing in a breath the perfect deliverance which sweeps
them all away: "Thou broughtest us out into abundance." There is no
need for the textual alteration of the last word into "a wide place"
(Hupfeld), a place of liberty (Cheyne), or freedom (Baethgen). The
word in the received text is that employed in Psalm xxiii. 5. "My cup
is _overfulness_" and "abundance" yields a satisfactory meaning here,
though not closely corresponding to any of the preceding metaphors for
affliction.

The fourth strophe (vv. 13-15) begins the solo part. It clothes in a
garb appropriate to a sacrificial system the thought expressed in more
spiritual dress in the next strophe, that God's deliverance should
evoke men's praise. The abundance and variety of sacrifices named, and
the fact that "rams" were not used for the offerings of individuals,
seem to suggest that the speaker is, in some sense, representing the
nation, and it has been supposed that he may be the high priest. But
this is merely conjecture, and the explanation may be that there is a
certain ideal and poetical tone over the representation, which does
not confine itself to scrupulous accuracy.

The last strophe (vv. 16-20) passes beyond sacrificial symbols, and
gives the purest utterance to the emotions and resolves which ought
to well up in a devout soul on occasion of God's goodness. Not only
does the psalmist teach us how each individual must take the general
blessing for his very own--of which act the faith which takes the
world's Christ for my Christ is the supreme example--but he teaches us
that the obligation laid on all recipients of God's mercy is to tell
it forth, and that the impulse is as certain to follow real reception
as the command is imperative. Just as Israel received deliverances
that the whole earth might learn how strong and gracious was Israel's
God, we receive His blessings, and chiefly His highest gift of life in
Christ, not only that we may live, but that, living, we may "declare
the works of the Lord." He has little possession of God's grace who
has not felt the necessity of speech, and the impossibility of the
lips being locked when the heart is full.

The psalmist tells his experience of God's answers to his prayer in a
very striking fashion. Ver. 17 says that he cried to God; and while
his uttered voice was supplication, the song extolling God for the
deliverance asked was, as it were, lying under his tongue, ready to
break forth,--so sure was he that his cry would be heard. That is a
strong faith which prepares banners and music for the triumph before
the battle is fought. It would be presumptuous folly, not faith, if it
rested on anything less certain than God's power and will.

"I find David making a syllogism in mood and figure.... 'If I regard
iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me: but verily God
hath heard me; He hath attended to the voice of my prayer.' Now, I
expected that David would have concluded thus: 'Therefore I regard
not wickedness in my heart. But far otherwise he concludes: 'Blessed
be God, who hath not turned away my prayer, nor His mercy from me.'
Thus David hath deceived but not wronged me. I looked that he should
have clapped the crown on his own, and he puts it on God's head. I
will learn this excellent logic." So says Fuller ("Good Thoughts in
Bad Times," p. 34, Pickering's ed., 1841). No doubt, however, the
psalmist means to suggest, though he does not state, that his prayer
was sincere. There is no self-complacent attribution of merit to his
supplication, in the profession that it was untainted by any secret,
sidelong looking towards evil; and Fuller is right in emphasising
the suppression of the statement. But even the appearance of such is
avoided by the jet of praise which closes the psalm. Its condensed
brevity has induced some critics to mend it by expansion, as they
regard it as incongruous to speak of turning away a man's prayer from
himself. Some would therefore insert "from Him" after "my prayer,"
and others would expand still further by inserting an appropriate
negative before "His loving-kindness." But the slight incongruity
does not obscure the sense, and brings out strongly the flow of
thought. So fully does the psalmist feel the connection between God's
loving-kindness and his own prayer, that these are, as it were,
smelted into one in his mind, and the latter is so far predominant in
his thoughts that he is unconscious of the anomaly of his expression.
To expand only weakens the swing of the words and the power of the
thought. It is possible to tame lyric outbursts into accuracy at the
cost of energy. Psalmists are not bound to be correct in style. Rivers
wind; canals are straight.




                              PSALM LXVII.

  1  God be gracious to us, and bless us,
     And cause His face to shine among us; Selah.
  2  That Thy way may be known upon earth,
     Thy salvation among all nations.

  3  Let peoples give Thee thanks, O God,
     Let peoples, all of them, give Thee thanks.
  4  Let tribes rejoice and shout aloud,
     For Thou wilt judge peoples in equity,
     And tribes on the earth wilt Thou lead. Selah.
  5  Let peoples give Thee thanks, O God,
     Let peoples, all of them, give Thee thanks.

  6  The earth has yielded her increase:
     May God, [even] our God, bless us!
  7  May God bless us,
     And may all the ends of the earth fear Him!


This little psalm condenses the dominant thought of the two preceding
into a series of aspirations after Israel's blessing, and the
consequent diffusion of the knowledge of God's way among all lands.
Like Psalm lxv., it sees in abundant harvests a type and witness of
God's kindness. But, whereas in Psalm lxv. the fields were covered
with corn, here the increase has been gathered in. The two psalms may
or may not be connected in date of composition as closely as these two
stages of one harvest-time.

The structure of the psalm has been variously conceived. Clearly the
Selahs do not guide as to divisions in the flow of thought. But it may
be noted that the seven verses in the psalm have each two clauses,
with the exception of the middle one (ver. 4), which has three. Its
place and its abnormal length mark it as the core, round which, as
it were, the whole is built up. Further, it is as if encased in two
verses (vv. 3, 5), which, in their four clauses, are a fourfold
repetition of a single aspiration. These three verses are the heart
of the psalm--the desire that all the earth may praise God, whose
providence blesses it all. They are again enclosed in two strophes of
two verses each (vv. 1, 2, and 6, 7), which, like the closer wrapping
round the core, are substantially parallel, and, unlike it, regard
God's manifestation to Israel as His great witness to the world.
Thus, working outwards from the central verse, we have symmetry of
structure, and intelligible progress and distinctness of thought.

Another point of difficulty is the rendering of the series of
verbs in the psalm. Commentators are unanimous in taking those of
ver. 1 as expressions of desire; but they bewilderingly diverge in
their treatment of the following ones. Details of the divergent
interpretations, or discussions of their reasons, cannot be entered
on here. It may be sufficient to say that the adherence throughout to
the optative rendering, admitted by all in ver. 1, gives a consistent
colouring to the whole. It is arbitrary to vary the renderings in so
short a psalm. But, as is often the case, the aspirations are so sure
of their correspondence with the Divine purpose that they tremble on
the verge of being prophecies, as, indeed, all wishes that go out
along the line of God's "way" are. Every deep, God-inspired longing
whispers to its utterer assurance that so it shall be; and therefore
such desires have ever in them an element of fruition, and know
nothing of the pain of earthly wishes. They who stretch out empty
hands to God never "gather dust and chaff."

The priestly blessing (Numb. vi. 24-26) moulds ver. 1, but with the
substitution of _God_ for _Jehovah_, and of "among us" for "upon us."
The latter variation gives an impression of closer contact of men with
the lustre of that Divine Light, and of yet greater condescension in
God. The soul's longing is not satisfied by even the fullest beams
of a Light that is fixed on high; it dares to wish for the stooping
of the Sun to dwell among us. The singer speaks in the name of the
nation; and, by using the priestly formula, claims for the whole
people the sacerdotal dignity which belonged to it by its original
constitution. He gives that idea its widest extension. Israel is
the world's high priest, lifting up intercessions and holy hands of
benediction for mankind. What self-effacement, and what profound
insight into and sympathy with the mind of God breathe in that
collocation of desires, in which the gracious lustre of God's face
shining on us is longed for, chiefly that thence it may be reflected
into the dark places of earth, to gladden sad and seeking eyes! This
psalmist did not know in how true a sense the Light would come to
dwell among men of Israel's race, and thence to flood the world; but
his yearning is a foreshadowing of the spirit of Christianity, which
forbids self-regarding monopoly of its blessings. If a man is "light
in the Lord," he cannot but shine. "God hath shined into our hearts,
that we may give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God." A
Church illuminated with a manifestly Divine light is the best witness
for God. Eyes which cannot look on the Sun may gaze at the clouds,
which tone down its colourless radiance into purple and gold.

The central core of the psalm may either be taken as summons to the
nations or as expression of desire for them. The depth of the longing
or the stringency of the summons is wonderfully given by that fourfold
repetition of the same words in vv. 3 and 5, with the emphatic "all
of them" in the second clause of each. Not less significant is the
use of three names for the aggregations of men--nations (ver. 2),
peoples, and tribes. All are included, whatever bond knits them in
communities, whatever their societies call themselves, however many
they are. The very vagueness gives sublimity and universality. We
can fill the vast outline drawn by these sweeping strokes; and wider
knowledge should not be attended with narrowed desires, nor feebler
confidence that the Light shall lighten every land. It is noticeable
that in this central portion the deeds of God among the nations are
set forth as the ground of their praise and joy in Him. Israel had the
light of His face, and that would draw men to Him. But all peoples
have the strength of His arm to be their defender, and the guidance
of His hand by providences and in other ways unrecognised by them.
The "judgments" here contemplated are, of course, not retribution for
evil, but the aggregate of dealings by which God shows His sovereignty
in all the earth. The psalmist does not believe that God's goodness
has been confined to Israel, nor that the rest of the world has been
left orphaned. He agrees with Paul, "That which may be known of God is
manifest in them, for God manifested it to them."

The final strophe (vv. 6, 7) is substantially a repetition of vv. 1,
2, with the addition that a past fact is laid as the foundation of
the desires or hopes of future blessings. "The earth has yielded her
increase." This may show that the psalm is a harvest hymn, but it
does not necessarily imply this. The thought may have been born at any
time. The singer takes the plain fact that, year by year, by mysterious
quickening which he recognises as of God, the fertile earth "causes the
things sown in it to bring forth and bud," as an evidence of Divine care
and kindliness, which warrants the desire and the confidence that all
blessings will be given. It seems a large inference from such a premise;
but it is legitimate for those who recognise God as working in nature,
and have eyes to read the parables amid which we live. The psalmist
reminds God of His own acts, and, further, of His own name, and builds
on these his petitions and his faith. Because He is "our God" He will
bless us; and since the earth has, by His gift, "yielded her increase,"
He will give the better food which souls need. This the singer desires,
not only because he and his brethren need it, but because a happy people
are the best witnesses for a good King, and worshippers "satisfied
with favour and full of the blessing of the Lord" proclaim most
persuasively, "Taste, and see that God is good." This psalm is a truly
missionary psalm, in its clear anticipation of the universal spread of
the knowledge of God, in its firm grasp of the thought that the Church
has its blessings in order to the evangelisation of the world, and in
its intensity of longing that from all the ends of the earth a shout of
praise may go up to the God who has sent some rays of His light into
them all, and committed to His people the task of carrying a brighter
illumination to every land.




                             PSALM LXVIII.

   1  Let God arise, let His enemies be scattered,
      And let them who hate Him flee before Him.
   2  As smoke is whirled, whirl [them] away:
      As wax melts before fire,
      May the wicked perish before God!
   3  But may the righteous rejoice [and] exult before God,
      And be mirthful in joy.
   4  Sing to God, harp [to] His name:
      Throw up a way for Him who rides through the deserts
      [In] Jah is His name; and exult ye before Him;
   5  The orphans' father and the widows' advocate,
      God in His holy dwelling-place,
   6  God, who makes the solitary to dwell in a home,
      Who brings out the prisoners into prosperity:
      Yet the rebellious inhabit a burnt-up land.

   7  O God, at Thy going forth before Thy people,
      At Thy marching through the wilderness; Selah.
   8  The earth quaked, the heavens also dropped before God
      Yonder Sinai [quaked] before God, the God of Israel.
   9  With a gracious rain, O God, Thou didst besprinkle Thine
                inheritance;
      And [when it was] faint, Thou didst refresh it.
  10  Thine assembly dwelt herein:
      Thou didst prepare in Thy goodness for the poor, O God.

  11  The Lord gives the word:
      The women telling the good tidings are a great army.
  12  Kings of armies flee, they flee:
      And the home-keeping [woman] divides the spoil.
  13  Will ye lie among the sheep-pens?
      [Ye shall be as] the wings of a dove that is covered with
                silver, (?)
      And her pinions with yellow gold
  14  When the Almighty scattered kings in it,
      It snowed in Salmon.
  15  A mountain of God is the mountain of Bashan,
      A many-peaked mountain is the mountain of Bashan.
  16  Why look ye with envy, O many-peaked mountains,
      On the mountain which God has desired to dwell in?
      Yea, God will abide in it for ever.
  17  The chariots of God are myriads and myriads, thousands on
                thousands:
      God is among them;
      Sinai is in the sanctuary.
  18  Thou hast ascended on high,
      Thou hast led captive a band of captives,
      Thou hast taken gifts among men,
      Yea, even the rebellious shall dwell with Jah, God.

  19  Blessed be the Lord!
      Day by day He bears our burdens,
      Even the God [who is] our salvation.
  20  God is to us a God of deliverances,
      And Jehovah the Lord has escape from death.
  21  Yea, God will crush the head of His enemies,
      The hairy skull of him that goes on in his guiltiness.
  22  The Lord has said, From Bashan I will bring back,
      I will bring back from the depths of the sea:
  23  That thou mayest bathe thy foot in blood,
      That the tongue of thy dogs may have its portion from the enemy.

  24  They have seen Thy goings, O God,
      The goings of my God, my King, into the sanctuary.
  25  Before go singers, after [come] those who strike the strings,
      In the midst of maidens beating timbrels.
  26  "In the congregations bless ye God,
      The Lord, [ye who spring] from the fountain of Israel."
  27  There was little Benjamin their ruler, (?)
      The princes of Judah, their shouting multitude,
      The princes of Zebulun, the princes of Naphtali.

  28  Command, O God, Thy strength,
      Show Thyself strong, O God, Thou that hast wrought for us.
  29  From Thy temple above Jerusalem
      Unto Thee shall kings bring presents.
  30  Rebuke the beast of the reeds,
      The herd of bulls, with the calves of the peoples;
      Tread down those that have pleasure in silver; (?)
      Scatter the peoples that delight in wars.
  31  Great ones shall come from Egypt,
      Cush shall quickly stretch out her hands to God.

  32  Ye kingdoms of the earth, sing to God;
      Harp [unto] the Lord; Selah.
  33  To Him who rides on the heavens of heavens, [which are] of old;
      Lo, He utters His voice, a voice of strength.
  34  Ascribe to God strength,
      Whose majesty is over Israel, and His strength in the clouds.
  35  Dread [art Thou], O God, from Thy sanctuaries,
      The God of Israel,
      He gives strength and fulness of might to His people.
      Blessed be God!


This superb hymn is unsurpassed, if not unequalled, in grandeur,
lyric fire, and sustained rush of triumphant praise. It celebrates a
victory; but it is the victory of the God who enters as a conqueror
into His sanctuary. To that entrance (vv. 15-18) all the preceding
part of the psalm leads up; and from it all the subsequent part flows
down. The Exodus is recalled as the progress of a king at the head
of his hosts, and old paeans re-echo. That dwelling of God in the
sanctuary is "for ever." Therefore in the second part of the psalm
(vv. 19-35) its consequences for the psalmist's generation and for
the future are developed--Israel's deliverance, the conquest of the
nations, and finally the universal recognition of God's sovereignty
and ringing songs sent up to Him.

The Davidic authorship is set aside as impossible by most recent
commentators, and there is much in the psalm which goes against it;
but, on the other hand, the Syro-Ammonite war (2 Sam. xi.), in which
the ark was taken into the field, is not unnaturally supposed by
Delitzsch and others to explain the special reference to the entrance
of God into the sanctuary. The numerous quotations and allusions
are urged as evidence of late date, especially the undeniable
resemblance with Isaiah II. But the difficulty of settling which of
two similar passages is original and which copy is great; and if by
one critical canon such allusions are marks of lateness, by another,
rugged obscurities, such as those with which this psalm bristles, are
evidences of an early date.

The mention of only four tribes in ver. 27 is claimed as showing that
the psalm was written when Judaea and Galilee were the only orthodox
districts, and central Palestine was in the hands of the Samaritans.
But could there be any talk of "princes of Zebulun and Naphtali"
then? The exultant tone of the psalm makes its ascription to such
a date as the age of the Ptolemies unlikely, when "Israel is too
feeble, too depressed, to dream of self-defence; and, if God does not
soon interpose, will be torn to pieces" (Cheyne, "Aids to the Devout
Study," etc., 335).

To the present writer it does not appear that the understanding and
enjoyment of this grand psalm depend so much on success in dating it
as is supposed. It may be post-exilic. Whoever fused its reminiscences
of ancient triumph into such a glowing outburst of exultant faith, his
vision of the throned God and his conviction that ancient facts reveal
eternal truths remain for all generations as an encouragement of trust
and a prophecy of God's universal dominion.

The main division at ver. 18 parts the psalm into two equal halves,
which are again easily subdivided into strophes.

The first strophe (vv. 1-6) may be regarded as introductory to the
chief theme of the first half--namely, the triumphant march of the
conquering God to His sanctuary. It consists of invocation to Him
to arise, and of summons to His people to prepare His way and to
meet Him with ringing gladness. The ground of both invocation and
summons is laid in an expansion of the meaning of His name as Helper
of the helpless, Deliverer of the captive, righteous, and plentifully
rewarding the proud doer. The invocation echoes the Mosaic prayer
"when the ark set forward" (Numb. x. 35), with the alteration of the
tense of the verb from a simple imperative into a precative future,
and of "Jehovah" into God. This is the first of the quotations
characteristic of the psalm, which is penetrated throughout with the
idea that the deeds of the past are revelations of permanent relations
and activities. The ancient history glows with present life. Whatever
God has done He is doing still. No age of the Church needs to look
back wistfully to any former, and say, "Where be all His wondrous
works which our fathers have told us of?" The twofold conditions
of God's intervention are, as this strophe teaches, Israel's cry
to Him to arise, and expectant diligence in preparing His way. The
invocation, which is half of Israel's means of insuring His coming,
being a quotation, the summons to perform the other half is naturally
regarded by the defenders of the post-exilic authorship as borrowed
from Isaiah II. (_e.g._, xl. 3, lvii. 14, lxii. 10), while the
supporters of an earlier date regard the psalm as the primary passage
from which the prophet has drawn.

God "arises" when He displays by some signal act His care for His
people. That strong anthropomorphism sets forth the plain truth that
there come crises in history, when causes, long silently working,
suddenly produce their world-shaking effects. God has seemed to sit
passive; but the heavens open, and all but blind eyes can see Him,
standing ready to smite that He may deliver. When He rises to His
feet; the enemy scatters in panic. His presence revealed is enough.
The emphatic repetition of "before" in these verses is striking,
especially when fully rendered,--from His face (ver. 1); from the
face of the fire (ver. 2); from the face of God (ver. 2); before His
face (vv. 3, 4). To His foes that face is dreadful, and they would
fain cower away from its light; His friends sun themselves in its
brightness. The same fire consumes and vivifies. All depends on the
character of the recipients. In the psalm "the righteous" are Israel,
the ideal nation; the "wicked" are its heathen foes; but the principle
underlying the fervid words demands a real assimilation of moral
character to the Divine, as a condition of being at ease in the Light.

The "deserts" are, in consonance with the immediately following
reminiscences, those of the Exodus. Hupfeld and those who discover in
the psalm the hopes of the captives in Babylon, take them to be the
waste wilderness stretching between Babylon and Palestine. But it is
better to see in them simply a type drawn from the past, of guidance
through any needs or miseries. Vv. 5, 6, draw out at length the blessed
significance of the name Jah, in order to hearten to earnest desire and
expectance of Him. They are best taken as in apposition with "Him" in
ver. 4. Well may we exult before Him who is the orphans' father, the
widows' advocate. There may be significance in the contrast between
what He is "in His holy habitation" and when He arises to ride through
the deserts. Even in the times when he seems to be far above, dwelling
in the separation of His unapproachable holiness, He is still caring
and acting for the sad and helpless. But when He comes forth, it is
to make the solitary to dwell in a home, to bring out prisoners into
prosperity. Are these simply expressions for God's general care of
the afflicted, like the former clauses, or do they point back to the
Exodus? A very slight change in the text gives the reading, "Makes the
solitary to return home"; but even without that alteration, the last
clause of the verse is so obviously an allusion to the disobedient,
"whose carcasses fell in the wilderness," that the whole verse is best
regarded as pointing back to that time. The "home" to which the people
were led is the same as the "prosperity" into which the prisoners are
brought--namely, the rest and well-being of Canaan; while the fate
of the "rebellious" is, as it ever is, to live and die amidst the
drought-stricken barrenness which they have chosen.

With the second strophe (vv. 7-10) begins the historical retrospect,
which is continued till, at the end of the fourth (ver. 18), God is
enthroned in the sanctuary, there to dwell for ever. In the second
strophe the wilderness life is described. The third (vv. 11-14) tells
of the victories which won the land. The fourth triumphantly contrasts
the glory of the mountain where God at last has come to dwell, with
the loftier peaks across the Jordan on which no such lustre gleams.

Vv. 7, 8, are from Deborah's song, with slight omissions and
alterations, notably of "Jehovah" into "God." The phrase "before"
still rings in the psalmist's ears, and he changes Deborah's words, in
the first clause of ver. 7, so as to give the picture of God marching
in front of His people, instead of, as the older song represented
Him, coming from the east, to meet them marching from the west.
The majestic theophany at the giving of the Law is taken as the
culmination of His manifestations in the wilderness. Vv. 9, 10, are
capable of two applications. According to one, they anticipate the
chronological order, and refer to the fertility of the land, and the
abundance enjoyed by Israel when established there. According to the
other, they refer to the sustenance of the people in the wilderness.
The former view has in its favour the ordinary use of "inheritance"
for the land, the likelihood that "rain" should be represented as
falling on soil rather than on people, and the apparent reference in
"dwelt therein," to the settlement in Canaan. The objection to it is
that reference to peaceful dwelling in the land is out of place, since
the next strophe pictures the conquest. If, then, the verses belong
to the age of wandering, to what do they refer? Hupfeld tries to
explain the "rain" as meaning the manna, and, still more improbably,
takes the somewhat enigmatical "assembly" of ver. 10 to mean (as it
certainly does) "living creatures," and to allude (as it surely does
not) to the quails that fell round the camp. Most commentators now
agree in transferring "thine inheritance" to the first clause, and
in understanding it of the people, not of the land. The verse is
intelligible either as referring to gifts of refreshment of spirit and
courage bestowed on the people, in which case "rain" is symbolical;
or to actual rainfall during the forty years of desert life, by which
sowing and reaping were made possible. The division of the verse as
in our translation is now generally adopted. The allusion to the
provision of corn in the desert is continued in ver. 10, in which
the chief difficulty is the ambiguous word "assembly." It may mean
"living creatures," and is so taken here by the LXX. and others. It is
twice used in 2 Sam. xxii. 11 (?), 13, for an army. Delitzsch takes
it as a comparison of Israel to a flock, thus retaining the meaning
of _creatures_. If the verse is interpreted as alluding to Israel's
wilderness life, "therein" must be taken in a somewhat irregular
construction, since there is no feminine noun at hand to which the
feminine pronominal suffix in the word can be referred. In that barren
desert, God's flock dwelt for more than a generation, and during all
that time His goodness provided for them. The strophe thus gives two
aspects of God's manifestation in the wilderness--the majestic and
terrible, and the gentle and beneficent. In the psalmist's triumphant
retrospect no allusion is made to the dark obverse--Israel's long
ingratitude. The same history which supplies other psalmists and
prophets with material for penetrating accusations yields to this one
only occasion of praise. God's part is pure goodness; man's is shaded
with much rebellious murmuring.

The next strophe (vv. 11-14) is abrupt and disconnected, as if echoing
the hurry of battle and the tumult of many voices on the field. The
general drift is unmistakable, but the meaning of part is the despair
of commentators. The whole scene of the conflict, flight, and division
of the spoil is flashed before us in brief clauses, panting with
excitement and blazing with the glow of victory. "The Lord giveth the
word." That "word" may be the news which the women immediately repeat.
But it is far more vivid and truer to the spirit of the psalm, which
sees God as the only actor in Israel's history, to regard it as the
self-fulfilling decree which scatters the enemy. This battle is the
Lord's. There is no description of conflict. But one mighty word is
hurled from heaven, like a thunder-clap (the phrase resembles that
employed so often, "the Lord gave His voice," which frequently means
thunder-peals), and the enemies' ranks are broken in panic. Israel
does not need to fight. God speaks, and the next sound we hear is
the clash of timbrels and the clear notes of the maidens chanting
victory. This picture of a battle, with the battle left out, tells
best Who fought, and how He fought it. "He spake, and it was done."
What scornful picture of the flight is given by the reduplication
"they flee, they flee"! It is like Deborah's fierce gloating over the
dead Sisera: "He bowed, he fell, he lay: at her feet he bowed, he
fell: where he bowed, there he fell." What confidence in the power
of weakness, when God is on its side, in the antithesis between the
mighty kings scattered in a general _sauve qui peut_, and the matrons
who had "tarried at home" and now divide the spoil! Sisera's mother
was pictured in Deborah's song as looking long through her lattice
for her son's return, and solacing herself with the thought that he
delayed to part the plunder and would come back laden with it. What
she vainly hoped for Israel's matrons enjoy.

Vv. 13, 14, are among the hardest in the Psalter. The separate clauses
offer no great difficulties, but the connection is enigmatical indeed.
"Will (lit. _if_) ye lie among the sheepfolds?" comes from Deborah's
song (Judg. v. 16), and is there a reproach flung at Reuben for
preferring pastoral ease to warlike effort. Is it meant as reproach
here? It is very unlikely that a song of triumph like this should
have for its only mention of Israel's warriors a taunt. The lovely
picture of the dove with iridescent wings is as a picture perfect.
But what does it mean here? Herder, whom Hupfeld follows, supposes
that the whole verse is rebuke to recreants, who preferred lying
stretched at ease among their flocks, and bidding each other admire
the glancing plumage of the doves that flitted round them. But this
is surely violent, and smacks of modern aestheticism. Others suppose
that the first clause is a summons to be up and pursue the flying foe,
and the second and third a description of the splendour with which
the conquerors (or their households) should be clothed by the spoil.
This meaning would require the insertion of some such phrase as "ye
shall be" before the second clause. Delitzsch regards the whole as a
connected description of the blessings of peace following on victory,
and sees a reference to Israel as God's dove. "The new condition of
prosperity is compared with the play of colours of a dove basking in
the rays of the sun." All these interpretations assume that Israel is
addressed in the first clause. But is this assumption warranted? Is
it not more natural to refer the "ye" to the "kings" just mentioned,
especially as the psalmist recurs to them in the next verse? The
question will then retain the taunting force which it has in Deborah's
song, while it pictures a very different kind of couching among the
sheepfolds--namely, the hiding there from pursuit. The kings are first
seen in full flight. Then the triumphant psalmist flings after them
the taunt, "Will ye hide among the cattle?" If the initial particle
retains its literal force, the first clause is hypothetical, and
the suppression of the conclusion speaks more eloquently than its
expression would have done: "If ye couch----" The second and third
clauses are then parallel with the second of ver. 12, and carry on
the description of the home-keeping matron, "the dove," adorned with
rich spoils and glorious in her apparel. We thus have a complete
parallelism between the two verses, which both lay side by side the
contrasted pictures of the defeated kings and the women; and we
further establish continuity between the three verses (13-15), in so
far as the "kings" are dealt with in them all.

Ver. 14 is even harder than the preceding. What does "in it" refer to?
Is the second clause metaphor, requiring to be eked out with "It is
like as when"? If figure, what does it mean? One is inclined to say
with Baethgen, at the end of his comment on the words, "After all this,
I can only confess that I do not understand the verse." Salmon was an
inconsiderable hill in Central Palestine, deriving its name (Shady), as
is probable, from forests on its sides. Many commentators look to that
characteristic for explanation of the riddle. Snow on the dark hill
would show very white. So after the defeat the bleached bones of the
slain, or, as others, their glittering armour, would cover the land.
Others take the point of comparison to be the change from trouble to
joy which follows the foe's defeat, and is likened to the change of the
dark hillside to a gleaming snow-field. Hupfeld still follows Herder
in connecting the verse with the reproach which he finds in the former
one, and seeing in the words "It snowed on Salmon" the ground of the
recreants' disinclination to leave the sheepfolds--namely, that it was
bad weather, and that, if snow lay on Salmon in the south, it would be
worse in the north, where the campaign was going on! He acknowledges
that this explanation requires "a good deal of acuteness to discover,"
and says that the only alternative to accepting it, provisionally, at
all events, is to give up the hope of any solution. Cheyne follows
Bickell in supposing that part of the text has dropped out, and proposes
an additional clause at the beginning of the verse and an expansion of
the last clause, arriving at this result: "[For full is our land of
spoil], When Shaddai scatters kings therein, [As the snow,] when it
snows in Salmon." The adoption of these additions is not necessary to
reach this meaning of the whole, which appears the most consonant with
the preceding verses, as continuing the double reference which runs
through them--namely, to the fugitive kings and the dividers of the
spoil. On the one side we see the kings driven from their lurking-places
among the sheepfolds; on the other, the gleam of rich booty, compared
now to the shining white wrapping the dark hill, as formerly to the
colours that shimmer on sunlit pinions of peaceful doves. If this is not
the meaning, we can only fall back on the confession already quoted.

The battle is over, and now the Conqueror enters His palace-temple.
The third strophe soars with its theme, describing His triumphal
entry thither and permanent abiding there. The long years between the
conquest of Canaan and the establishment of the ark on Zion dwindle
to a span; for God's enthronement there was in one view the purpose
of the conquest, which was incomplete till that was effected. There
is no need to suppose any reference in the mention of Bashan to
the victories over Og, its ancient king. The noble figure needs no
historic allusion to explain it. These towering heights beyond Jordan
had once in many places been seats of idol worship. They are emblems
of the world's power. No light rests upon them, lofty though they are,
like that which glorifies the insignificant top of Zion. They may well
look enviously across the Jordan to the hill which God has desired
for His abode. His triumphal procession is not composed of earthly
warriors, for none such had appeared in the battle. He had conquered,
not by employing human hands, but by His own "bright-harnessed
angels." They now surround Him in numbers innumerable, which language
strains its power in endeavouring to reckon. "Myriads doubled,
thousands of repetition," says the psalmist--indefinite expressions
for a countless host. But all their wide-flowing ranks are clustered
round the Conqueror, whose presence makes their multitude an unity,
even as it gives their immortal frames their life and strength, and
their faces all their lustrous beauty. "God is in the midst of them";
therefore they conquer and exult. "Sinai is in the sanctuary." This
bold utterance has led to a suggested emendation, which has the
advantage of bringing out clearly a quotation from Deut. xxxiii. 2.
It combines the second and third clauses of ver. 17, and renders "The
Lord hath come from Sinai into the sanctuary." But the existing text
gives a noble thought--that now, by the entrance of God thither,
Sinai itself is in the sanctuary, and all the ancient sanctities and
splendours, which flamed round its splintered peaks, are housed to
shine lambent from that humble hill. Sinai was nothing but for God's
presence. Zion has that presence; and all that it ever meant it means
still. The profound sense of the permanent nature of past revelation,
which speaks all through the psalm, reaches its climax here.

The "height" to which ver. 18 triumphantly proclaims that God has gone
up, can only be Zion. To take it as meaning the heavenly sanctuary,
as in Psalm vii. 7 it unquestionably does, is forbidden by the
preceding verses. Thither the conquering God has ascended, as to
His palace, leading a long procession of bound captives, and there
receiving tribute from the vanquished. Assyrian slabs and Egyptian
paintings illustrate these representations. The last clause has been
variously construed and understood. Is "Yea, even the rebellious"
to be connected with the preceding, and "among" to be supplied, so
that those once rebellious are conceived of as tributary, or does the
phrase begin an independent clause? The latter construction makes
the remainder of the verse run more intelligibly, and obviates the
need for supplying a preposition with "the rebellious." It still
remains a question whether the last words of the clause refer to God's
dwelling among the submissive rebels, or to their dwelling with God.
If, however, it is kept in view that the context speaks of God as
dwelling in His sanctuary, the latter is the more natural explanation,
especially as a forcible contrast is thereby presented to the fate of
the "rebellious" in ver. 6. They dwell in a burnt-up land; but, if
they fling away their enmity, may be guests of God in His sanctuary.
Thus the first half of the psalm closes with grand prophetic hopes
that, when God has established His abode on Zion, distant nations
shall bring their tribute, rebels return to allegiance, and men be
dwellers with God in His house.

In such anticipations the psalm is Messianic, inasmuch as these are
only fulfilled in the dominion of Jesus. Paul's quotation of this
verse in Eph. iv. 8 does not require us to maintain its directly
prophetic character. Rather, the apostle, as Calvin says, "deflects"
it to Christ. That ascent of the ark to Zion was a type rather than
a prophecy. Conflict, conquest, triumphant ascent to a lofty home,
tribute, widespread submission, and access for rebels to the royal
presence--all these, which the psalmist saw as facts or hopes in their
earthly form, are repeated in loftier fashion in Christ, or are only
attainable through His universal reign. The apostle significantly
alters "received among" into "gave to," sufficiently showing that he
is not arguing from a verbal prophecy, but from a typical fact, and
bringing out the two great truths, that, in the highest manifestation
of the conquering God, the conquered receive gifts from the victor,
and that the gifts which the ascended Christ bestows are really the
trophies of His battle, in which He bound the strong man and spoiled
his house. The attempt to make out that the Hebrew word has the
extraordinary doubled-barrelled meaning of _receiving in order to
give_ is futile, and obscures the intentional freedom with which the
apostle deals with the text. The Ascension is, in the fullest sense,
the enthronement of God; and its results are the growing submission of
nations and the happy dwelling of even the rebellious in His house.

The rapturous emphasis with which this psalm celebrates God's entrance
into His sanctuary is most appropriate to Davidic times.

The psalm reaches its climax in God's enthronement on Zion. Its
subsequent strophes set forth the results thereof. The first of these,
the fifth of the psalm (vv. 19-23), suddenly drops from strains of
exultation to a plaintive note, and then again as suddenly breaks out
into stern rejoicing over the ruin of the foe. There is wonderful
depth of insight and tenderness in laying side by side the two
thoughts of God, that He sits on high as conqueror, and that He daily
bears our burdens, or perhaps bears us as a shepherd might his lambs.

Truly a Divine use for Divine might! To such lowly offices of
continual individualising care will the Master of many legions stoop,
reaching out from amid their innumerable myriads to sustain a poor
weak man stumbling under a load too great for him. Israel had been
delivered by a high hand, but still was burdened. The psalmist has
been recalling the deeds of old, and he finds in them grounds for
calm assurance as to the present. To-day, he thinks, is as full of God
as any yesterday, and our "burdens" as certain to be borne by Him,
as were those of the generation that saw His Sinai tremble at His
presence. To us, as to them, He is "a God of deliverances," and for us
can provide ways of escape from death. The words breathe a somewhat
plaintive sense of need, such as shades our brightest moments, if we
bethink ourselves; but they do not oblige us to suppose that the psalm
is the product of a time of oppression and dejection. That theory is
contradicted by the bounding gladness of the former part, no less than
by the confident anticipations of the second half. But no song sung by
mortal lips is true to the singer's condition, if it lacks the minor
key into which this hymn of triumph is here modulated for a moment.

It is but for a moment, and what follows is startlingly different.
Israel's escape from death is secured by the destruction of the
enemy, and in it the psalmist has joy. He pictures the hand that
sustained him and his fellows so tenderly, shattering the heads of
the rebellious. These are described as long-haired, an emblem of
strength and insolence which one is almost tempted to connect with
Absalom; and the same idea of determined and flaunting sin is conveyed
by the expression "goes on in his guiltinesses." There will be such
rebels, even though the house of God is open for them to dwell in, and
there can be but one end for such. If they do not submit, they will
be crushed. The psalmist is as sure of that as of God's gentleness;
and his two clauses do state the alternative that every man has to
face--either to let God bear his burden or to be smitten by Him.

Vv. 22, 23, give a terrible picture of the end of the rebels. The
psalmist hears the voice of the Lord promising to bring some unnamed
fugitives from Bashan and the depths of the sea in order that they may
be slain, and that he (or Israel) may bathe his foot in their blood,
and his dogs may lick it, as they did Ahab's. Who are to be brought
back? Some have thought that the promise referred to Israel, but it is
more natural to apply it to the flying foe. There is no reference to
Bashan either as the kingdom of an ancient enemy or as envying Zion
(ver. 15). But the high land of Bashan in the east and the depths of
the sea to the west are taken (_cf._ Amos ix. 1-3) as representing the
farthest and most inaccessible hiding-places. Wherever the enemies
lurk, thence they will be dragged and slain.

The existing text is probably to be amended by the change of one
letter in the verb, so as to read "shall wash" or bathe, as in
Psalm lviii. 10, and the last clause to be read, "That the tongue
of thy dogs may have its portion from the enemy." The blood runs
ankle-deep, and the dogs feast on the carcasses or lick it--a dreadful
picture of slaughter and fierce triumph. It is not to be softened or
spiritualised or explained away.

There is, no doubt, a legitimate Christian joy in the fall of
opposition to Christ's kingdom, and the purest benevolence has
sometimes a right to be glad when hoary oppressions are swept away and
their victims set free; but such rejoicing is not after the Christian
law unless it is mingled with pity, of which the psalm has no trace.

The next strophe (vv. 24-27) is by some regarded as resuming the
description of the procession, which is supposed to have been
interrupted by the preceding strophe. But the joyous march now to
be described is altogether separate from the majestic progress of
the conquering King in vv. 17, 18. This is the consequence of that.
God has gone into His sanctuary. His people have seen His solemn
entrance thither, and therefore they now go up to meet Him there
with song and music. Their festal procession is the second result of
His enthronement, of which the deliverance and triumph described in
the preceding strophe were the first. The people escaped from death
flock to thank their Deliverer. Such seems to be the connection of
the whole, and especially of vv. 24, 25. Instead of myriads of angels
surrounding the conquering God, here are singers and flute-players
and damsels beating their timbrels, like Miriam and her choir. Their
shrill call in ver. 26 summons all who "spring from the fountain of
Israel"--_i.e._, from the eponymous patriarch--to bless God. After
these musicians and singers, the psalmist sees tribe after tribe go up
to the sanctuary, and points to each as it passes. His enumeration is
not free from difficulties, both in regard to the epithets employed
and the specification of the tribes. The meaning of the word rendered
"ruler" is disputed. Its form is peculiar, and the meaning of the
verb from which it is generally taken to come is rather to _subdue_
or _tread down_ than to _rule_. If the signification of _ruler_ is
accepted, a question rises as to the sense in which Benjamin is so
called. Allusion to Saul's belonging to that tribe is thought of by
some; but this seems improbable, whether the psalm is Davidic or
later. Others think that the allusion is to the fact that, according
to Joshua xviii. 16, the Temple was within Benjamite territory; but
that is a far-fetched explanation. Others confine the "rule" to the
procession, in which Benjamin marches at the head, and so may be
called its leader; but ruling and leading are not the same. Others
get a similar result by a very slight textual change, reading "in
front" instead of "their ruler." Another difficulty is in the word
rendered above "their shouting multitude," which can only be made to
mean a company of people by a somewhat violent twist. Hupfeld (with
whom Bickell and Cheyne agree) proposes an alteration which yields the
former sense and is easy. It may be tentatively adopted.

A more important question is the reason for the selection of the four
tribes named. The mention of Benjamin and Judah is natural; but why
are Zebulun and Naphtali the only representatives of the other tribes?
The defenders of a late date answer, as has been already noticed,
Because in the late period when the psalm was written, Galilee and
Judaea "formed the two orthodox provinces." The objection to this
is that in the post-exilic period there were no distinct tribes of
Zebulun and Naphtali, and no princes to rule.

The mention of these tribes as sharing in the procession to the
sanctuary on Zion would have been impossible during the period of the
northern kingdom. If, then, these two periods are excluded, what is left
but the Davidic? The fact seems to be that we have here another glance
at Deborah's song, in which the daring valour of these two tribes is set
in contrast with the sluggish cowardice of Reuben and the other northern
ones. Those who had done their part in the wars of the Lord now go up in
triumph to His house. That is the reward of God's faithful soldiers.

The next strophe (vv. 28-31) is the prayer of the procession. It
falls into two parts of two verses each, of which the former verse is
petition, and the latter confident anticipation of the results of
answered prayer. The symmetry of the whole requires the substitution
in ver. 28 of "command" for "hath commanded." God's strength is
poetically regarded as distinct from Himself and almost personified,
as "loving-kindness" is in Psalm xlii. 8. The prayer is substantially
equivalent to the following petition in ver. 28 _b_. Note how "strength"
occurs four times in vv. 33-35. The prayer for its present manifestation
is, in accordance with the historical retrospect of the first part,
based upon God's past acts. It has been proposed to detach "From Thy
Temple" from ver. 29, and to attach it to ver. 28. This gets over a
difficulty, but unduly abbreviates ver. 29, and is not in harmony with
the representation in the former part, which magnifies what God has
wrought, not "from the Temple," but in His progress thither. No doubt
the retention of the words in ver. 29 introduces a singular expression
there. How can presents be brought to God "from Thy Temple"? The only
explanation is that "Temple" is used in a restricted sense for the "holy
place," as distinguished from the "holy of holies," in which the ark was
contained. The tribute-bearers stand in that outer sanctuary, and thence
present their tokens of fealty. The city is clustered round the Temple
mount, and therefore the psalm says, "Thy Temple above Jerusalem." One
is tempted to read "unto" instead of "from"; for this explanation can
scarcely be called quite satisfactory. But it seems the best that has
been suggested. The submission of kings of unnamed lands is contemplated
as the result of God's manifestation of strength for Israel. Ver. 30
resumes the tone of petition, and maintains it throughout. "The beast of
the reeds," probably the crocodile, is a poetic designation for Egypt,
the reference to which is claimed by both the defenders of the Davidic
and of the post-exilic date as in their favour. The former say that, in
David's day, Egypt was the greatest world-power known to the Hebrews;
and the latter, that the mention of it points to the time when Israel
lay exposed to the attacks of Seleucidae on the one hand and of Ptolemies
on the other. Why, then, should only one of the two hostile neighbours
be mentioned here? "Bulls" are a standing emblem of leaders of nations,
and "calves" are accordingly their subjects. The two metaphors are
naturally connected, and the correction "leaders of the peoples" is
unnecessary, and a prosaic intermingling of figure and fact.

Ver. 30 _c_ is extremely obscure. Baethgen roundly says, "The meaning
of the words can no longer be ascertained, and in all probability they
are corrupt." The first word is a participle, which is variously taken
as meaning "casting oneself to the ground" (_i.e._, in submission),
and "trampling to the ground." It is also variously referred to the
nations and their leaders spoken of in the previous verse, and to God.
In the former case it would describe their attitude of submission in
consequence of "rebuke"; in the latter, God's subjugation of them.
The slightest change would make the word an imperative, thus bringing
it into line with "rebuke"; but, even without this, the reference
to God is apparently to be preferred. The structure of the strophe
which, in the first verse of each pair, seems to put petitions and to
confine its descriptions of the resulting subjugation of the enemy to
the second verse in each case, favours the latter interpretation. The
next words are also disputed. One rendering is, "with bars of silver";
another, "those that delight in silver." The former presupposes a
very unusual word for "bars." It is necessarily adopted by those who
refer the first word to the submission of the "herd of bulls." The
enemies come with tribute of silver. The other rendering, which avoids
the necessity of bringing in an otherwise unknown word, is necessarily
preferred by the supporters of the second explanation of the preceding
word. God is implored to crush "those who delight in silver," which
may stand for a description of men of this world, but must be
acknowledged to be rather a singular way of designating active enemies
of God and Israel. Cheyne's rendering, "That rolls itself in mire
for gain of money," brings in the mercenaries of the Seleucidae. But
"rolling oneself in mire" is a strange way of saying "hiring oneself
out to fight." Certainty seems unattainable, and we must be content
with the general trend of the verse as supplication for an exhibition
of God's strength against proud opponents. The last clause sums up the
whole in the petition, "Scatter the peoples that delight in wars."

One verse then tells what the result of that will be. "Great ones" shall
come from the land of the beast of the reeds, and Ethiopia shall make
haste to stretch out tribute-bearing hands to God. The vision of a world
subjugated and loving its subjugation is rising before the poet. That is
the end of the ways of God with Israel. So deeply had this psalmist been
led into comprehension of the Divine purpose; so clearly was he given to
see the future, "and all the wonder that should be."

Therefore he breaks forth, in the last strophe, into invocation to all
the kingdoms of the earth to sing to God. He had sung of His majesty as
of old Jehovah "rode through the deserts"; and that phrase described
His intervention in the field of history on behalf of Israel. Now the
singer calls for praise from all the earth to Him who rides in the
"most ancient heavens"; and that expression sets forth His transcendent
majesty and eternal, universal sway. The psalmist had hymned the victory
won when "God gave the word." Now he bids earth listen as "He gives His
voice, a voice of strength," which moves and controls all creatures and
events. Therefore all nations are summoned to give strength to God, who
gives all fulnesses of strength to His people. The psalm closes with
the utterance of the thought which has animated it throughout--that
God's deeds for and in Israel are the manifestation for the world of
His power, and that these will one day lead all men to bless the God of
Israel, who shines out in dread majesty from the sanctuary, which is
henceforth His abode for evermore.




                              PSALM LXIX.

   1  Save me, O God;
      For the waters have come in even to [my] soul.
   2  I am sunk in the mud of an abyss, without standing-ground
      I am come into depths of waters, and a flood has overwhelmed me.
   3  I am weary with my crying; my throat is parched,
      My eyes fail whilst I wait for my God.
   4  More than the hairs of my head are they who hate me without
                provocation.
      Strong are my destroyers, my enemies wrongfully
      What I did not rob, then I must restore.
   5  O God, Thou, Thou knowest my folly,
      And my guiltinesses are not hidden from Thee.
   6  Let not those who wait for Thee be put to shame through me, Lord,
                Jehovah of hosts:
      Let not those be confounded through me who seek Thee, O God of
                Israel.

   7  For Thy sake have I borne reproach;
      Confusion has covered my face.
   8  I have become a stranger to my brothers,
      And an alien to my mother's sons.
   9  For zeal for Thine house has consumed me,
      And the reproaches of those that reproach Thee have fallen upon
                me.
  10  And I wept, in fasting my soul [wept];
      And that became [matter of] reproaches to me.
  11  Also I made sackcloth my clothing;
      And I became to them a proverb.
  12  They who sit at the gate talk of me,
      And the songs of the quaffers of strong drink [are about me].

  13  But as for me, my prayer is unto Thee, Jehovah, in a time of
                favour,
      O God, in the greatness of Thy loving-kindness,
      Answer me in the troth of Thy salvation.
  14  Deliver me from [the] mire, that I sink not,
      Rescue me from those who hate me, and from depths of waters.
  15  Let not the flood of waters overwhelm me,
      And let not the abyss swallow me,
      And let not [the] pit close her mouth over me.
  16  Answer me, Jehovah; for Thy loving-kindness is good:
      In the multitude of Thy compassions turn toward me.
  17  And hide not Thy face from Thy servant,
      For I am in straits; answer me speedily.
  18  Draw near to my soul, redeem it,
      Because of my enemies set me free.

  19  Thou, Thou knowest my reproach, and my shame, and my confusion.
      Before Thee are all my adversaries.
  20  Reproach has broken my heart; and I am sick unto death,
      And I looked for pitying, and there was none,
      And for comforters, and found none.
  21  But they gave me gall for my food,
      And for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.

  22  Let their table become before them a snare,
      And to them in their peacefulness, [let it become] a trap.
  23  Darkened be their eyes, that they see not,
      And make their loins continually to quake.
  24  Pour out upon them Thine indignation,
      And let the glow of Thy wrath overtake them.
  25  May their encampment be desolate!
      In their tents may there be no dweller!
  26  For him whom Thou, Thou hast smitten, they persecute,
      And they tell of the pain of Thy wounded ones.
  27  Add iniquity to their iniquity,
      And let them not come into Thy righteousness.
  28  Let them be blotted out of the book of the living,
      And let them not be inscribed with the righteous.

  29  But as for me, I am afflicted and pained,
      Let Thy salvation, O God, set me on high.
  30  I will praise the name of God in a song,
      And I will magnify it with thanksgiving.
  31  And it shall please Jehovah more than an ox,
      A bullock horned and hoofed.

  32  The afflicted see it; they shall rejoice,
      Ye who seek God, [behold,] and let your heart live.
  33  For Jehovah listens to the needy,
      And His captives He does not despise.
  34  Let heaven and earth praise Him,
      The seas, and all that moves in them.
  35  For God will save Zion, and build the cities of Judah,
      And they shall dwell there, and possess it.
  36  And the seed of His servants shall inherit it,
      And those who love His name shall abide therein.


The Davidic authorship of this psalm is evidently untenable, if for
no other reason, yet because of the state of things presupposed in
ver. 35. The supposition that Jeremiah was the author has more in its
favour than in the case of many of the modern attributions of psalms
to him, even if, as seems most probable, the references to sinking in
deep mire and the like are metaphorical. Cheyne fixes on the period
preceding Nehemiah's first journey to Jerusalem as the earliest
possible date for this psalm and its kindred ones (xxii., xxxv., and
xl. 13-18). Baethgen follows Olshausen in assigning the psalm to the
Maccabean period. The one point which seems absolutely certain is that
David was not its author.

It falls into two equal parts (vv. 1-18 and 19-36). In the former part
three turns of thought or feeling may be traced: vv. 1-6 being mainly
a cry for Divine help, with plaintive spreading out of the psalmist's
extremity of need; vv. 7-12 basing the prayer on the fact that his
sufferings flow from his religion; and vv. 13-18 being a stream of
petitions for deliverance, with continuous allusion to the description
of his trials in vv. 1-6. The second part (vv. 19-36) begins with
renewed description of the psalmist's affliction (vv. 19-21), and
thence passes to invocation of God's justice on his foes (vv. 22-28),
which takes the place of the direct petitions for deliverance in
the first part. The whole closes with trustful anticipation of
answers to prayer, which will call forth praise from ever-widening
circles,--first from the psalmist himself; then from the oppressed
righteous; and, finally, from heaven, earth, and sea.

The numerous citations of this psalm in the New Testament have led
many commentators to maintain its directly Messianic character. But
its confessions of sin and imprecations of vengeance are equally
incompatible with that view. It is Messianic as typical rather than as
prophetic, exhibiting a history, whether of king, prophet, righteous
man, or personified nation, in which the same principles are at work
as are manifest in their supreme energy and highest form in the Prince
of righteous sufferers. But the correspondence of such a detail as
giving gall and vinegar, with the history of Jesus, carries us beyond
the region of types, and is a witness that God's Spirit shaped the
utterances of the psalmist for a purpose unknown to himself, and
worked in like manner on the rude soldiers, whose clumsy mockery and
clumsy kindness fulfilled ancient words. There is surely something
more here than coincidence or similarity between the experience of one
righteous sufferer and another. If Jesus cried "I thirst" in order to
bring about the "fulfilment" of one verse of our psalm, His doing so
is of a piece with some other acts of His which were distinct claims
to be the Messiah of prophecy; but His wish could not influence the
soldiers to fulfil the psalm.

The first note is petition and spreading out of the piteous story of
the psalmist's need. The burdened heart finds some ease in describing
how heavy its burden is, and the devout heart receives some foretaste
of longed-for help in the act of telling God how sorely His help is
needed. He who knows all our trouble is glad to have us tell it to
Him, since it is thereby lightened, and our faith in Him is thereby
increased. Sins confessed are wholly cancelled, and troubles spoken to
God are more than half calmed. The psalmist begins with metaphors in vv.
1, 2, and translates these into grim prose in vv. 3, 4, and then, with
acknowledgment of sinfulness, cries for God's intervention in vv. 5, 6.
It is flat and prosaic to take the expressions in vv. 1, 2, literally,
as if they described an experience like Jeremiah's in the miry pit.
Nor can the literal application be carried through; for the image of
"waters coming in unto the soul" brings up an entirely different set of
circumstances from that of sinking in mud in a pit. The one describes
trouble as rushing in upon a man, like a deluge which has burst its
banks and overwhelms him; the other paints it as yielding and tenacious,
affording no firm spot to stand on, but sucking him up in its filthy,
stifling slime. No water was in Jeremiah's pit. The two figures are
incompatible in reality, and can only be blended in imagination. What
they mean is put without metaphor in vv. 3, 4. The psalmist is "weary
with calling" on God; his throat is dry with much prayer; his eyes ache
and are dim with upward gazing for help which lingers. Yet he does not
cease to call, and still prays with his parched throat, and keeps the
weary eyes steadfastly fixed, as the psalm shows. It is no small triumph
of patient faith to wait for tarrying help. Ver. 4 tells why he thus
cries. He is compassed by a crowd of enemies. Two things especially
characterise these--their numbers, and their gratuitous hatred. As to
the former, they are described as more numerous than the hairs of the
psalmist's head. The parallelism of clauses recommends the textual
alteration which substitutes for the unnecessary word "my destroyers"
the appropriate expression "more than my bones," which is found in
some old versions. Causeless hatred is the portion of the righteous in
all ages; and our Lord points to Himself as experiencing it in utmost
measure (John xv. 25), inasmuch as He, the perfectly righteous One, must
take into His own history all the bitterness which is infused into the
cup of those who fear God and love the right, by a generation who are
out of sympathy with them.

The same experience, in forms varying according to the spirit of the
times, is realised still in all who have the mind of Christ in them. As
long as the world is a world, it will have some contempt mingling with
its constrained respect for goodness, some hostility, now expressed by
light shafts of mockery and ridicule, now by heavier and more hurtful
missiles, for Christ's true servants. The ancient "Woe" for those of
whom "all men speak well" is in force to-day. The "hatred" is "without
a cause," in so far as its cherishers have received no hurt, and its
objects desire only their enemies' good; but its cause lies deep in the
irreconcilable antagonism of life-principles and aims between those who
follow Christ and those who do not.

The psalmist had to bear unjust charges, and to make restitution of
what he had never taken. Causeless hatred justified itself by false
accusations, and innocence had but to bear silently and to save life
at the expense of being robbed in the name of justice.

He turns from enemies to God. But his profession of innocence assumes a
touching and unusual form. He does not, as might be expected, say, "Thou
knowest my guiltlessness," but, "Thou knowest my foolishness." A true
heart, while conscious of innocence in regard to men, and of having
done nothing to evoke their enmity, is, even in the act of searching
itself, arrested by the consciousness of its many sins in God's sight,
and will confess these the more penitently, because it stands upright
before men, and asserts its freedom from all crime against them.
In so far as men's hatred is God's instrument, it inflicts merited
chastisement. That does not excuse men; but it needs to be acknowledged
by the sufferer, if things are to be right between him and God. Then,
after such confession, he can pray, as this psalmist does, that God's
mercy may deliver him, so that others who, like him, wait on God may not
be disheartened or swept from their confidence, by the spectacle of his
vain hopes and unanswered cries. The psalmist has a strong consciousness
of his representative character, and, as in so many other psalms, thinks
that his experience is of wide significance as a witness for God. This
consciousness points to something special in his position, whether we
find the speciality in his office, or in the supposed personification of
the nation, or in poetic consciousness heightened by the sense of being
an organ of God's Spirit. In a much inferior degree, the lowliest devout
man may feel the same; for there are none whose experiences of God as
answering prayer may not be a light of hope to some souls sitting in the
dark.

In vv. 7-12 the prayer for deliverance is urged on the ground that the
singer's sufferings are the result of his devotion. Psalm xliv. 13-22
may be compared, and Jer. xv. 15 is an even closer parallel. Fasting
and sackcloth are mentioned again together in Psalm xxxv. 13; and Lam.
iii. 14 and Job xxx. 9 resemble ver. 12 _b_. Surrounded by a godless
generation, the psalmist's earnestness of faith and concern for God's
honour made him an object of dislike, a target for drunken ridicule.
These broke the strong ties of kindred, and acted as separating forces
more strongly than brotherhood did, as a uniting one. "Zeal for God's
house" presupposes the existence of the Temple, and also either its
neglect or its desecration. That sunken condition of the sanctuary
distressed the psalmist more than personal calamity, and it was the
departure of Israel from God that made him clothe himself in sackcloth
and fast and weep. But so far had deterioration gone that his mourning
and its cause supplied materials for tipsy mirth, and his name became
a by-word and a butt for malicious gossip. The whole picture is that
of the standing experience of the godly among the godless. The Perfect
Example of devotion and communion had to pass through these waters
where they ran deepest and chilliest, but all who have His Spirit have
their share of the same fate.

The last division of this first part (vv. 13-18) begins by setting
in strong contrast the psalmist's prayer and the drunkard's song.
He is sure that his cry will be heard, and so he calls the present
time "a time of favour," and appeals, as often in the Psalter, to
the multitude of God's loving-kindnesses and the faithfulness of His
promise of salvation. Such a pleading with God on the ground of His
manifested character is heard in vv. 13, 16, thus inclosing, as it
were, the prayer for deliverance in a wrapping of reminders to God of
His own name. The petitions here echo the description of peril in the
former part--mire and watery depths--and add another kindred image in
that of the "pit shutting her mouth" over the suppliant. He is plunged
in a deep dungeon, well-shaped; and if a stone is rolled on to its
opening, his last gleam of daylight will be gone, and he will be
buried alive. Beautifully do the pleas from God's character and those
from the petitioner's sore need alternate, the latter predominating
in vv. 17, 18. His thoughts pass from his own desperate condition to
God's mercy, and from God's mercy to his own condition, and he has
the reward of faith, in that he finds in his straits reasons for his
assurance that this is a time of favour, as well as pleas to urge with
God. They make the black backing which turns his soul into a mirror,
reflecting God's promises in its trust.

The second part of the psalm (ver. 19 to end) has, like the former,
three main divisions. The first of these, like vv. 1-6, is mainly a
renewed spreading before God of the psalmist's trouble (vv. 19-21).
Rooted sorrows are not plucked up by one effort. This recrudescence
of fear breaking in upon the newly won serenity of faith is true to
nature. On some parts of our coasts, where a narrow outlet hinders
the free run of the tide, a second high water follows the first
after an hour or so; and often a similar bar to the flowing away of
fears brings them back in full rush after they had begun to sink.
The psalmist had appealed to God's knowledge of His "foolishness" as
indorsing his protestations of innocence towards men. He now (ver.
19) appeals to His knowledge of his distresses, as indorsing his
pitiful plaints. His soul is too deeply moved now to use metaphors.
He speaks no more of mire and flood, but we hear the moan of a broken
heart, and that wail which sounds sad across the centuries and wakes
echoes in many solitary hearts. The psalmist's eyes had failed, while
he looked upwards for a God whose coming seemed slow; but they had
looked yet more wearily and vainly for human pity and comforters,
and found none. Instead of pity He had received only aggravation
of misery. Such seems to be the force of giving gall for food, and
vinegar to His thirst. The precise meaning of the word rendered "gall"
is uncertain, but the general idea of something bitter is sufficient.
That was all that His foes would give Him when hungry; and vinegar,
which would make Him more thirsty still, was all that they proffered
for His thirst. Such was their sympathy and comforting. According
to Matthew, the potion of "wine (or vinegar) mingled with gall" was
offered to and rejected by Jesus, before being fastened to the cross.
He does not expressly quote the psalm, but probably refers to it.
John, on the other hand, does tell us that Jesus, "that the scripture
might be accomplished, said, I thirst," and sees its fulfilment in the
kindly act of moistening the parched lips. The evangelist's expression
does not necessarily imply that a desire to fulfil the scripture
was our Lord's motive. Crucifixion was accompanied with torturing
thirst, which wrung that last complaint from Jesus. But the evangelist
discerns a Divine purpose behind the utterance of Jesus' human
weakness; and it is surely less difficult, for any one who believes
in supernatural revelation at all, to believe that the words of the
psalmist were shaped by a higher power, and the hands of the Roman
soldiers moved by another impulse than their own, than to believe that
this minute correspondence of psalm and gospel is merely accidental.

But the immediately succeeding section warns us against pushing
the Messianic character of the psalm too far, for these fearful
imprecations cannot have any analogies in Christ's words (vv. 22-28).
The form of the wish in "Let their table become a snare" is explained
by remembering that the Eastern table was often a leather flap laid
on the ground, which the psalmist desires may start up as a snare,
and close upon the feasters as they sit round it secure. Disease,
continual terror, dimmed eyes, paralysed or quaking loins, ruin
falling on their homes, and desolation round their encampment, so
that they have no descendants, are the least of the evils invoked.
The psalmist's desires go further than all this corporeal and
material disaster. He prays that iniquity may be added to their
iniquity--_i.e._, that they may be held guilty of sin after sin; and
that they may have no portion in God's righteousness--_i.e._, in the
gifts which flow from His adherence to His covenant.

The climax of all these maledictions is that awful wish that the
persecutors may be blotted out of the book of life or of the living.
True, the high New Testament conception of that book, according to
which it is the burgess-roll of the citizens of the New Jerusalem,
the possessors of eternal life, does not plainly belong to it in Old
Testament usage, in which it means apparently the register of those
living on earth. But to blot names therefrom is not only to kill,
but to exclude from the national community, and so from all the
privileges of the people of God. The psalmist desires for his foes the
accumulation of all the ills that flesh is heir to, the extirpation
of their families, and their absolute exclusion from the company
of the living and the righteous. It is impossible to bring such
utterances into harmony with the teachings of Jesus, and the attempt
to vindicate them ignores plain facts and does violence to plain
words. Better far to let them stand as a monument of the earlier stage
of God's progressive revelation, and discern clearly the advance which
Christian ethics has made on them.

The psalm ends with glad anticipations of deliverance and vows of
thanksgiving. The psalmist is sure that God's salvation will lift him
high above his enemies, and as sure that then he will be as grateful
as he is now earnest in prayer, and surest of all that his thankful
voice will sound sweeter in God's ear than any sacrifice would smell
in His nostrils. There is no contempt of sacrifices expressed in
"horned and hoofed," but simply the idea of maturity which fits the
animal to be offered.

The single voice of praise will be caught up, the singer thinks, by a
great chorus of those who would have been struck dumb with confusion
if his prayer had not been answered (ver. 6), and who, in like
manner, are gladdened by seeing his deliverance. The grace bestowed
on one brings thanksgivings from many, which redound to the glory
of God. The sudden transition in ver. 32 _b_ to direct address to
the seekers after God, as if they stood beside the solitary singer,
gives vividness to the anticipation. The insertion of "behold" is
warranted, and tells what revives the beholders' hearts. The seekers
after God feel the pulse of a quicker life throbbing, when they
see the wonders wrought through prayer. The singer's thoughts go
beyond his own deliverance to that of Israel. "His captives" is most
naturally understood as referring to the exiled nation. And this
wider manifestation of God's restoring power will evoke praise from
a wider circle, even from heaven, earth, and sea. The circumstances
contemplated in vv. 33-36 are evidently those of a captivity.
God's people are in bondage, the cities of Judah are in ruins, the
inhabitants scattered far from their homes. The only reason for taking
the closing verses as being a liturgical addition is unwillingness to
admit exilic or post-exilic psalms. But these verses cannot be fairly
interpreted without recognising that they presuppose that Israel is
in bondage, or at least on the verge of it. The circumstances of
Jeremiah's life and times coincide closely with those of the psalmist.




                             PSALM LXX.[2]

  1  _O God_, [be pleased] to deliver me,
     Jehovah, hasten to my help.
  2  Shamed and put to the blush be the seekers after my soul!
     Turned back and dishonoured be they who delight in my calamity!
  3  _Let them turn back_ by reason of their shame who say, Oho! Oho!
  4  Joyful and glad in Thee be all who seek Thee!
     _And "God_ be magnified" may they ever say who love Thy salvation!
  5  But as for me, I am afflicted and needy;
     _O God, hasten_ to me:
     My help and my deliverer art Thou;
     _Jehovah_, delay not.


This psalm is all but identical with the last verses of Psalm xl.
13-17. Some unimportant alterations have been made, principally in the
Divine names; but the principle on which they have been made is not
obvious. It is scarcely correct to say, with Delitzsch, that the psalm
"has been transformed, so as to become Elohistic"; for though it twice
replaces the name of Jehovah with that of God (vv. 1, 4), it makes the
converse change in ver. 5, last clause, by reading Jehovah instead of
"God," as in Psalm xl.

Other changes are of little moment. The principal are in vv. 3 and
5. In the former the vehement wish that the psalmist's mockers may
be _paralysed with shame_ is softened down into a desire that they
may be _turned back_. The two verbs are similar in sound, and the
substitution may have been accidental, a slip of memory or a defect in
hearing, or it may have been an artistic variation of the original. In
ver. 5 a prayer that God will hasten to the psalmist's help takes the
place of an expression of confidence that "Jehovah purposes [good]"
to him, and again there is similarity of sound in the two words. This
change is like the subtle alteration which a painter might make on his
picture by taking out one spot of high light. The gleam of confidence
is changed to a call of need, and the tone of the whole psalm is
thereby made more plaintive.

Hupfeld holds that this psalm is the original, and Psalm xl. a
composite; but most commentators agree in regarding this as a fragment
of that psalm. The cut has not been very cleanly made; for the
necessary verb "be pleased" has been left behind, and the symmetry of
ver. 1 is destroyed for want of it. The awkward incompleteness of this
beginning witnesses that the psalm is a fragment.

FOOTNOTE:

[2] Italics show variations from Psalm xl.




                              PSALM LXXI.

   1  In Thee, Jehovah, do I take refuge,
      Let me not be put to shame for ever.
   2  In Thy righteousness deliver me and rescue me,
      Bend Thine ear and save me.
   3  Be to me for a rock of habitation to go to continually:
      Thou hast commanded to save me,
      For my rock and my fortress art Thou.

   4  My God, rescue me from the hand of the wicked,
      From the fist of the evil-doer and the violent man.
   5  For Thou [art] my hope,
      O Lord Jehovah, [Thou art] my trust from my youth.
   6  On Thee have I been stayed from the womb,
      From my mother's bowels Thou hast been my protector:
      Of Thee is my praise continually.

   7  As a wonder am I become to many,
      But Thou art my refuge--a strong one.
   8  My mouth is filled with Thy praise,
      All the day with Thine honour.
   9  Cast me not away in the time of old age,
      When my strength fails, forsake me not.

  10  For mine enemies speak concerning me,
      And the watchers of my soul consult together,
  11  Saying, God has left him,
      Chase and seize him; for there is no deliverer.
  12  O God, be not far from me,
      My God, haste to my help.

  13  Ashamed, confounded, be the adversaries of my soul,
      Covered with reproach and confusion be those who seek my hurt.

  14  But as for me, continually will I hope,
      And add to all Thy praise.
  15  My mouth shall recount Thy righteousness,
      All the day Thy salvation,
      For I know not the numbers [thereof].
  16  I will come with the mighty deeds of the Lord Jehovah,
      I will celebrate Thy righteousness, [even] Thine only.
  17  O God, Thou hast taught me from my youth,
      And up till now I declare Thy wonders.
  18  And even to old age and grey hairs,
      O God, forsake me not,
      Till I declare Thine arm to [the next] generation,
      To all who shall come Thy power.
  19  And Thy righteousness, O God, [reaches] to the height.
      O Thou who hast done great things,
      Who is like Thee?
  20  Thou who hast made us see straits many and sore,
      Thou wilt revive us again,
      And from the abysses of the earth will bring us up again.
  21  Thou wilt increase my greatness,
      And wilt turn to comfort me.

  22  Also I will thank Thee with the lyre, [even] Thy troth, my God,
      I will harp unto Thee with the harp, Thou Holy One of Israel.
  23  My lips shall sing aloud when I harp unto Thee,
      And my soul, which Thou hast redeemed.
  24  Also my tongue shall all the day muse on Thy righteousness,
      For shamed, for put to the blush, are they that seek my hurt.


Echoes of former psalms make the staple of this one, and even those
parts of it which are not quotations have little individuality. The
themes are familiar, and the expression of them is scarcely less so.
There is no well-defined strophical structure, and little continuity
of thought or feeling. Vv. 13 and 24 _b_ serve as a kind of partial
refrain, and may be taken as dividing the psalm into two parts, but
there is little difference between the contents of the two. Delitzsch
gives in his adhesion to the hypothesis that Jeremiah was the author;
and there is considerable weight in the reasons assigned for that
ascription of authorship. The pensive, plaintive tone; the abundant
quotations, with slight alterations of the passages cited; the
autobiographical hints which fit in with Jeremiah's history, are the
chief of these. But they can scarcely be called conclusive. There is
more to be said for the supposition that the singer is the personified
nation in this case than in many others. The sudden transition to
"us" in ver. 20, which the Massoretic marginal correction corrects
into "me," favours, though it does not absolutely require, that view,
which is also supported by the frequent allusion to "youth" and "old
age." These, however, are capable of a worthy meaning, if referring to
an individual. Vv. 1-3 are slightly varied from Psalm xxxi. 1-3. The
character of the changes win be best appreciated by setting the two
passages side by side.

         PSALM XXXI.                      PSALM LXXI.

  1 In Thee, Jehovah, do I take     1 In Thee, Jehovah, do I take
  refuge; let me not be ashamed     refuge:
  for ever:                         Let me not be put to shame
  In Thy righteousness rescue       for ever.
  me.
                                    2 In Thy righteousness deliver
  2 _a_ Bend Thine ear to           me and rescue me:
  me; deliver me speedily.          Bend Thine ear and save me.

The two verbs, which in the former psalm are in separate clauses
("deliver" and "rescue"), are here brought together. "Speedily" is
omitted, and "save" is substituted for "deliver," which has been drawn
into the preceding clause. Obviously no difference of meaning is
intended to be conveyed, and the changes look very like the inaccuracies
of memoriter quotations. The next variation is as follows:--

           PSALM XXXI.                   PSALM LXXI.

  2 _b_ Be to me for a              3 Be to me for a rock of
  strong rock, for a house of       habitation to go to continually:
  defence to save me.               Thou hast commanded to save
                                    me;
  3 For my rock and my fortress     For my rock and my fortress
  art Thou.                         art Thou.

The difference between "a strong rock" and "rock of habitation" is
but one letter. That between "for a house of defence" and "to go to
continually: Thou hast commanded" is extremely slight, as Baethgen
has well shown. Possibly both of these variations are due to textual
corruption, but more probably this psalmist intentionally altered the
words of an older psalm. Most of the old versions have the existing
text, but the LXX. seems to have read the Hebrew here as in Psalm
xxxi. The changes are not important, but they are significant. That
thought of God as a habitation to which the soul may continually
find access goes very deep into the secrets of the devout life.
The variation in ver. 3 is recommended by observing the frequent
recurrence of "continually" in this psalm, of which that word may
almost be said to be the motto. Nor is the thought of God's command
given to His multitude of unnamed servants, to save this poor man, one
which we can afford to lose.

Vv. 5, 6, are a similar variation of Psalm xxii. 9, 10. "On Thee have
I been stayed from the womb," says this psalmist; "On Thee was I cast
from the womb," says the original passage. The variation beautifully
brings out, not only reliance on God, but the Divine response to that
reliance by life-long upholding. That strong arm answers leaning
weakness with firm support, and whosoever relies on it is upheld by
it. The word rendered above "protector" is doubtful. It is substituted
for that in Psalm xxii. 9 which means "One that takes out," and some
commentators would attach the same meaning to the word used here,
referring it to God's goodness before and at birth. But it is better
taken as equivalent to benefactor, provider, or some such designation,
and as referring to God's lifelong care.

The psalmist has been "a wonder" to many spectators, either in the
sense that they have gazed astonished at God's goodness, or, as
accords better with the adversative character of the next clause ("But
Thou art my refuge"), that his sufferings have been unexampled. Both
ideas may well be combined, for the life of every man, if rightly
studied, is full of miracles both of mercy and judgment. If the psalm
is the voice of an individual, the natural conclusion from such words
is that his life was conspicuous; but it is obvious that the national
reference is appropriate here.

On this thankful retrospect of life-long help and life-long trust the
psalm builds a prayer for future protection from eager enemies, who
think that the charmed life is vulnerable at last.

Vv. 9-13 rise to a height of emotion above the level of the rest of the
psalm. On one hypothesis, we have in them the cry of an old man, whose
strength diminishes as his dangers increase. Something undisclosed in
his circumstances gave colour to the greedy hopes of his enemies. Often
prosperous careers are overclouded at the end, and the piteous spectacle
is seen of age overtaken by tempests which its feebleness cannot resist,
and which are all the worse to face because of the calms preceding them.
On the national hypothesis, the psalm is the prayer of Israel at a late
stage of its history, from which it looks back to the miracles of old,
and then to the ring of enemies rejoicing over its apparent weakness,
and then upwards to the Eternal Helper.

Vv. 12, 13, are woven out of other psalms. 12 _a_, "Be not far from
me," is found in xxii. 11, 19; xxxv. 22; xxxviii. 21, etc. "Haste
to my help" is found in xxxviii. 22; xl. 13 (lxx. 1). For ver. 13
compare xxxv. 4, 26; xl. 14 (lxx. 2). With this, as a sort of
refrain, the first part of the psalm ends.

The second part goes over substantially the same ground, but with
lighter heart. The confidence of deliverance is more vivid, and it,
as well as the vow of praise following thereon, bulk larger. The
singer has thinned away his anxieties by speaking them to God, and has
by the same process solidified his faith. Aged eyes should see God,
the helper, more clearly when earth begins to look grey and dim. The
forward look of such finds little to stay it on this side of heaven.
As there seems less and less to hope for here, there should be more
and more there. Youth is the time for buoyant anticipation, according
to the world's notions, but age may have far brighter lights ahead
than youth had leisure to see. "I will hope always" becomes sublime
from aged lips, which are so often shaped to say, "I have nothing left
to hope for now."

This psalmist's words may well be a pattern for old men, who need
fear no failure of buoyancy, nor any collapse of gladness, if they
will fix their thoughts where this singer did his. Other subjects
of thought and speech will pall and run dry; but he whose theme is
God's righteousness and the salvation that flows from it will never
lack materials for animating meditation and grateful praise. "I know
not the numbers thereof." It is something to have fast hold of an
inexhaustible subject. It will keep an old man young.

The psalmist recognises his task, which is also his joy, to declare
God's wondrous works, and prays for God's help till he has discharged
it. The consciousness of a vocation to speak to later generations
inspires him, and assures him that he is immortal till his work is
done. His anticipations have been fulfilled beyond his knowledge. His
words will last as long as the world. But men with narrower spheres
may be animated by the same consciousness, and they who have rightly
understood the purpose of God's mercies to themselves will, like the
psalmist, recognise in their own participation in His salvation an
imperative command to make it known, and an assurance that nothing shall
by any means harm them till they have fulfilled their witnessing. A
many-wintered saint should be a convincing witness for God.

Ver. 20, with its sudden transition to the plural, may simply
show that the singer passes out from individual contemplation
to the consciousness of the multitude of fellow-sufferers and
fellow-participants in God's mercy. Such transition is natural; for
the most private passages of a good man's communion with God are swift
to bring up the thought of others like-minded and similarly blessed.
"Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host,
praising." Every solo swells into a chorus. Again the song returns to
"my" and "me," the confidence of the single soul being reinvigorated
by the thought of sharers in blessing.

So all ends with the certainty of, and the vow of praise for,
deliverances already realised in faith, though not in fact. But the
imitative character of the psalm is maintained even in this last
triumphant vow; for ver. 24 _a_ is almost identical with xxxv. 28;
and _b_, as has been already pointed out, is copied from several
other psalms. But imitative words are none the less sincere; and new
thankfulness may be run into old moulds without detriment to its
acceptableness to God and preciousness to men.




                              PSALM LXXII.

   1  O God, give Thy judgments to the king,
      And Thy righteousness to the king's son.
   2  May he judge Thy people with righteousness,
      And Thine afflicted with judgment!
   3  May the mountains bring forth peace to the people,
      And the hills, through righteousness!
   4  May he judge the afflicted of the people,
      Save the children of the needy,
      And crush the oppressor!

   5  May they fear Thee as long as the sun shines,
      And as long as the moon shows her face, generation after
                generation!
   6  May he come down like rain upon mown pasture,
      Like showers--a heavy downpour on the earth!
   7  May the righteous flourish in his days,
      And abundance of peace, till there be no more a moon!

   8  May he have dominion from sea to sea,
      And from the River to the ends of the earth!
   9  Before him shall the desert peoples bow;
      And his enemies shall lick the dust.
  10  The kings of Tarshish and the isles shall bring tribute:
      The kings of Sheba and Seba shall offer gifts.
  11  And all kings shall fall down before him:
      All nations shall serve him.

  12  For he shall deliver the needy when he cries,
      And the afflicted, and him who has no helper.
  13  He shall spare the weak and needy,
      And the souls of the needy shall he save.
  14  From oppression and from violence he shall ransom their soul;
      And precious shall their blood be in his eyes.
  15  So that he lives and gives to him of the gold of Sheba,
      And prays for him continually,
      Blesses him all the day.

  16  May there be abundance of corn in the earth on the top of the
                mountains!
      May its fruit rustle like Lebanon!
      And may [men] spring from the city like grass of the earth!
  17  May his name last for ever!
      May his name send forth shoots as long as the sun shines,
      And may men bless themselves in him,
      May all nations pronounce him blessed!

  18  Blessed be Jehovah, God, the God of Israel,
      Who only doeth wondrous works,
  19  And blessed be His glorious name for ever,
      And let the whole earth be filled with His glory!
          Amen, and Amen.

  20  The prayers of David the son of Jesse are ended.


Rightly or wrongly, the superscription ascribes this psalm to Solomon.
Its contents have led several commentators to take the superscription
in a meaning for which there is no warrant, as designating the
subject, not the author. Clearly, the whole is a prayer for the king;
but why should not he be both suppliant and object of supplication?
Modern critics reject this as incompatible with the "phraseological
evidence," and adduce the difference between the historical Solomon
and the ideal of the psalm as negativing reference to him. Ver. 8 is
said by them to be quoted from Zech. ix. 10, though Cheyne doubts
whether there is borrowing. Ver. 17 _b_ is said to be dependent on
Gen. xxii. 18, xxvi. 4, which are assumed to be later than the seventh
century. Ver. 12 is taken to be a reminiscence of Job xxix. 12, and
ver. 16 _b_ of Job v. 25. But these are too uncertain criteria to
use as conclusive,--partly because coincidence does not necessarily
imply quotation; partly because, quotation being admitted, the
delicate question of priority remains, which can rarely be settled by
comparison of the passages in question; and partly because, quotation
and priority being admitted, the date of the original is still under
discussion. The impossibility of Solomon's praying thus for himself
does not seem to the present writer so completely established that
the hypothesis must be abandoned, especially if the alternative is
to be, as Hitzig, followed by Olshausen and Cheyne, proposes, that
the king in the psalm is Ptolemy Philadelphus, to whom Psalm xlv. is
fitted by the same authorities. Baethgen puts the objections which
most will feel to such a theory with studied moderation when he says
"that the promises given to the patriarchs in Gen. xxii. 18, xxvi. 4,
should be transferred by a pious Israelite to a foreign king appears
to me improbable." But another course is open--namely, to admit that
the psalm gives no materials for defining its date, beyond the fact
that a king of Davidic descent was reigning when it was composed.
The authorship may be left uncertain, as may the name of the king
for whom such far-reaching blessings were invoked; for he was but a
partial embodiment of the kingly idea, and the very disproportion
between the reality seen in any Jewish monarch and the lofty idealisms
of the psalm compels us to regard the earthly ruler as but a shadow,
and the true theme of the singer as being the Messianic King. We are
not justified, however, in attempting to transfer every point of the
psalmist's prayer to the Messiah. The historical occasion of the psalm
is to be kept in mind. A human monarch stands in the foreground; but
the aspirations expressed are so far beyond anything that he is or can
be, that they are either extravagant flattery, or reach out beyond
their immediate occasion to the King Messiah.

The psalm is not properly a prediction, but a prayer. There is some
divergence of opinion as to the proper rendering of the principal
verbs,--some, as the A.V. and R.V. (text), taking them as uniformly
futures, which is manifestly wrong; some taking them as expressions of
wish throughout, which is also questionable; and others recognising pure
futures intermingled with petitions, which seems best. The boundaries
of the two are difficult to settle, just because the petitions are so
confident that they are all but predictions, and the two melt into
each other in the singer's mind. The flow of thought is simple. The
psalmist's prayers are broadly massed. In vv. 1-4 he prays for the
foundation of the king's reign in righteousness, which will bring peace;
in vv. 5-7 for its perpetuity, and in vv. 8-11 for its universality;
while in vv. 12-15 the ground of both these characteristics is laid
in the king's becoming the champion of the oppressed. A final prayer
for the increase of his people and the perpetuity and world-wide glory
of his name concludes the psalm, to which are appended in vv. 18-20 a
doxology, closing the Second Book of the Psalter.

The first petitions of the psalm all ask for one thing for the
king--namely, that he should give righteous judgment. They reflect
the antique conception of a king as the fountain of justice, himself
making and administering law and giving decisions. Thrice in these four
verses does "righteousness" occur as the foundation attribute of an
ideal king. Caprice, self-interest, and tyrannous injustice were rank
in the world's monarchies round the psalmist. Bitter experience and
sad observation had taught him that the first condition of national
prosperity was a righteous ruler. These petitions are also animated
by the conception, which is as true in the modern as in the ancient
world, that righteousness has its seat in the bosom of God, and that
earthly judgments are righteous when they conform to and are the echo
of His. "Righteousness" is the quality of mind, of which the several
"judgments" are the expressions. This king sits on an ancestral throne.
His people are God's people. Since, then, he is God's viceroy, the
desire cannot be vain that in his heart there may be some reflection
of God's righteousness, and that his decisions may accord with God's.
One cannot but remember Solomon's prayer for "an understanding heart,"
that he might judge this people; nor forget how darkly his later reign
showed against its bright beginning. A righteous king makes a peaceful
people, especially in a despotic monarchy. The sure results of such
a reign--which are, likewise, the psalmist's chief reason for his
petitions--are set forth in the vivid metaphor of ver. 3, in which
peace is regarded as the fruit which springs, by reason of the king's
righteousness, from mountains and hills. This psalmist has special
fondness for that figure of vegetable growth (vv. 7, 16, 17); and it
is especially suitable in this connection, as peace is frequently
represented in Scripture as the fruit of righteousness, both in single
souls and in a nation's history. The mountains come into view here
simply as being the most prominent features of the land, and not, as
in ver. 16, with any reference to their barrenness, which would make
abundant growth on them more wonderful, and indicative of yet greater
abundance on the plains.

A special manifestation of judicial righteousness is the vindication
of the oppressed and the punishment of the oppressor (ver. 4). The
word rendered "judge" in ver. 4 differs from that in ver. 2, and is
the same from which the name of the "Judges" in Israel is derived.
Like them, this king is not only to pronounce decisions, as the word
in ver. 2 means, but is to execute justice by acts of deliverance,
which smite in order to rescue. Functions which policy and dignity
require to be kept apart in the case of earthly rulers are united
in the ideal monarch. He executes his own sentences. His acts are
decisions. The psalmist has no thought of inferior officers by the
king's side. One figure fills his mind and his canvas. Surely such
an ideal is either destined to remain for ever a fair dream, or its
fulfilment is to be recognised in the historical Person in whom God's
righteousness dwelt in higher fashion than psalmists knew, who was,
"first, King of righteousness, and then, after that, also King of
peace," and who, by His deed, has broken every yoke, and appeared as
the defender of all the needy. The poet prayed that Israel's king
might perfectly discharge his office by Divine help; the Christian
gives thanks that the King of men has been and done all which Israel's
monarchs failed to be and do.

The perpetuity of the king's reign and of his subjects' peace is the
psalmists second aspiration (vv. 5-7). The "Thee" of ver. 5 presents a
difficulty, as it is doubtful to whom it refers. Throughout the psalm
the king is spoken _of_, and never _to_; and if it is further noticed
that, in the preceding verses, God has been directly addressed, and
"Thy" used thrice in regard to Him, it will appear more natural to
take the reference in ver. 5 to be to Him. The fear of God would be
diffused among the king's subjects, as a consequence of his rule in
righteousness. Hupfeld takes the word as referring to the king, and
suggests changing the text to "him" instead of "Thee"; while others,
among whom are Cheyne and Baethgen, follow the track of the LXX. in
adopting a reading which may be translated "May he live," or "Prolong
his days." But the thought yielded by the existing text, if referred
to God, is most natural and worthy. The king is, as it were, the
shadow on earth of God's righteousness, and consequently becomes an
organ for the manifestation thereof, in such manner as to draw men to
true devotion. The psalmist's desires are for something higher than
external prosperity, and his conceptions of the kingly office are very
sacred. Not only peace and material well-being, but also the fear of
Jehovah, are longed for by him to be diffused in Israel. And he prays
that these blessings may be perpetual. The connection between the
king's righteousness and the fear of God requires that that permanence
should belong to both. The cause is as lasting as its effect. Through
generation after generation he desires that each shall abide. He uses
peculiar expressions for continual duration: "with the sun"--_i.e._,
contemporaneous with that unfading splendour; "before the face of the
moon"--_i.e._, as long as she shines. But could the singer anticipate
such length of dominion for any human king? Psalm xxi. has similar
language in regard to the same person; and here, as there, it seems
sufficiently accounted for by the consideration that, while the
psalmist was speaking of an individual, he was thinking of the office
rather than of the person, and that the perpetual continuance of the
Davidic dynasty, not the undying life of any one representative of it,
was meant. The full light of the truth that there is a king whose
royalty, like his priesthood, passes to no other is not to be forced
upon the psalm. It stands as a witness that devout and inspired souls
longed for the establishment of a kingdom, against which revolutions
and enemies and mortality were powerless. They knew not that their
desires could not be fulfilled by the longest succession of dying
kings, but were to be more than accomplished by One, "of whom it is
witnessed that He liveth."

The psalmist turns for a moment from his prayer for the perpetuity
of the king's rule, to linger upon the thought of its blessedness as
set forth in the lovely image of ver. 6. Rain upon mown grass is no
blessing, as every farmer knows; but what is meant is, not the grass
which has already been mown, but the naked meadow from which it has
been taken. It needs drenching showers, in order to sprout again
and produce an aftermath. The poet's eye is caught by the contrast
between the bare look of the field immediately after cutting and the
rich growth that springs, as by magic, from the yellow roots after
a plentiful shower. This king's gracious influences shall fall upon
even what seems dead, and charm forth hidden life that will flush the
plain with greenness. The psalmist dwells on the picture, reiterating
the comparison in ver. 6 _b_, and using there an uncommon word, which
seems best rendered as meaning a heavy rainfall. With such affluence
of quickening powers will the righteous king bless his people. The
"Mirror for Magistrates," which is held up in the lovely poem in 2
Sam. xxiii. 4, has a remarkable parallel in its description of the
just ruler as resembling a "morning without clouds, when the tender
grass springeth out of the earth through clear shining after rain";
but the psalmist heightens the metaphor by the introduction of the
mown meadow as stimulated to new growth. This image of the rain
lingers with him and shapes his prayer in ver. 7 _a_. A righteous
king will insure prosperity to the righteous, and the number of such
will increase. Both these ideas seem to be contained in the figure
of their flourishing, which is literally _bud_ or _shoot_. And, as
the people become more and more prevailingly righteous, they receive
more abundant and unbroken peace. The psalmist had seen deeply into
the conditions of national prosperity, as well as those of individual
tranquillity, when he based these on rectitude.

With ver. 8 the singer takes a still loftier flight, and prays for
the universality of the king's dominion. In that verse the form of
the verb is that which expresses desire, but in ver. 9 and following
verses the verbs may be rendered as simple futures. Confident prayers
insensibly melt into assurances of their own fulfilment. As the
psalmist pours out his petitions, they glide into prophecies; for
they are desires fashioned upon promises, and bear, in their very
earnestness, the pledge of their realisation. As to the details of the
form which the expectation of universal dominion here takes, it need
only be noted that we have to do with a poet, not with a geographer.
We are not to treat the expressions as if they were instructions to
a boundary commission, and to be laid down upon a map. "The sea" is
probably the Mediterranean; but what the other sea which makes the
opposite boundary may be is hard to say. Commentators have thought
of the Persian Gulf, or of an imaginary ocean encircling the flat
earth, according to ancient ideas. But more probably the expression
is as indeterminate as the parallel one, "the ends of the earth."
In the first clause of the verse the psalmist starts from the
Mediterranean, the western boundary, and his anticipations travel
away into the unknown eastern regions; while, in the second clause,
he begins with the Euphrates, which was the eastern boundary of the
dominion promised to Israel, and, coming westward, he passes out in
thought to the dim regions beyond. The very impossibility of defining
the boundaries declares the boundlessness of the kingdom. The poet's
eyes have looked east and west, and in ver. 9 he turns to the south,
and sees the desert tribes, unconquered as they have hitherto been,
grovelling before the king, and his enemies in abject submission at
his feet. The word rendered "desert peoples" is that used in Psalm
lxxiv. 14 for wild beasts inhabiting the desert, but here it can only
mean _wilderness tribes_. There seems no need to alter the text, as
has been proposed, and to read "adversaries." In ver. 10 the psalmist
again looks westward, across the mysterious ocean of which he, like
all his nation, knew so little. The great city of Tarshish lay for
him at the farthest bounds of the world; and between him and it, or
perhaps still farther out in the waste unknown, were islands from
which rich and strange things sometimes reached Judaea. These shall
bring their wealth in token of fealty. Again he looks southward to
Sheba in Arabia, and Seba far south below Egypt, and foresees their
submission. His knowledge of distant lands is exhausted, and therefore
he ceases enumeration, and falls back on comprehensiveness. How little
he knew, and how much he believed! His conceptions of the sweep of
that "all" were childish; his faith that, however many these unknown
kings and nations were, God's anointed was their king was either
extravagant exaggeration, or it was nurtured in him by God, and meant
to be fulfilled when a world, wide beyond his dreams and needy
beyond his imagination, should own the sway of a King, endowed with
God's righteousness and communicative of God's peace, in a manner and
measure beyond his desires.

The triumphant swell of these anticipations passes with wonderful
pathos into gentler music, as if the softer tones of flutes should
follow trumpet blasts. How tenderly and profoundly the psalm bases
the universality of the dominion on the pitying care and delivering
power of the King! The whole secret of sway over men lies in that
"For," which ushers in the gracious picture of the beneficent and
tender-hearted Monarch. The world is so full of sorrow, and men are so
miserable and needy, that he who can stanch their wounds, solace their
griefs, and shelter their lives will win their hearts and be crowned
their king. Thrones based on force are as if set on an iceberg which
melts away. There is no solid foundation for rule except helpfulness.
In the world and for a little while "they that exercise authority are
called benefactors"; but in the long-run the terms of the sentence
are inverted, and they that are rightly called benefactors exercise
authority. The more earthly rulers approximate to this ideal portrait,
the more "broad-based upon their people's will" and love will their
thrones stand. If Israel's kings had adhered to it, their throne would
have endured. But their failures point to Him in whom the principle
declared by the psalmist receives its most tender illustration.
The universal dominion of Jesus Christ is based upon the fact that
He "tasted death for every man." In the Divine purpose, He has won
the right to rule men because He has died for them. In historical
realisation, He wins men's submission because He has given Himself
for them. Therefore does He command with absolute authority; therefore
do we obey with entire submission. His sway not only reaches out over
all the earth, inasmuch as the power of His cross extends to all men,
but it lays hold of the inmost will and makes submission a delight.

The king is represented in ver. 14 as taking on himself the office
of Goel, or Kinsman-Redeemer, and ransoming his subjects' lives from
"deceit and violence." That "their blood is precious in his eyes" is
another way of saying that they are too dear to him to be suffered to
perish. This king's treasure is the life of his subjects. Therefore
he will put forth his power to preserve them and deliver them. The
result of such tender care and delivering love is set forth in ver.
15, but in obscure language. The ambiguity arises from the absence
of expressed subjects for the four verbs in the verse. Who is he
who "lives"? Is the same person the giver of the gold of Sheba, and
to whom is it given? Who prays, and for whom? And who blesses, and
whom does he bless? The plain way of understanding the verse is to
suppose that the person spoken of in all the clauses is the same; and
then the question comes whether he is the king or the ransomed man.
Difficulties arise in carrying out either reference through all the
clauses; and hence attempts have been made to vary the subject of the
verbs. Delitzsch, for instance, supposes that it is the ransomed man
who "lives," the king who gives to the ransomed man gold, and the man
who prays for and blesses the king. But such an arbitrary shuttling
about of the reference of "he" and "him" is impossible. Other attempts
of a similar kind need not be noticed here. The only satisfactory
course is to take one person as spoken of by all the verbs. But then
the question comes, Who is he? There is much to be said in favour of
either hypothesis as answering that question. The phrase which is
rendered above "So that he lives" is so like the common invocation
"May the king live," that it strongly favours taking the whole verse
as a continuance of the petitions for the monarch. But if so, the verb
in the second clause (_he shall give_) must be taken impersonally, as
equivalent to "one will give" or "there shall be given," and those
in the remaining clauses must be similarly dealt with, or the text
altered so as to make them plurals, reading, "They shall pray for him
(the king), ... and shall bless him." On the whole, it is best to
suppose that the ransomed man is the subject throughout, and that the
verse describes his glad tribute, and continual thankfulness. Ransomed
from death, he brings offerings to his deliverer. It seems singular
that he should be conceived of both as "needy" and as owning "gold"
which he can offer; but in the literal application the incongruity is
not sufficient to prevent the adoption of this view of the clause; and
in the higher application of the words to Christ and His subjects,
which we conceive to be warranted, the incongruity becomes fine and
deep truth; for the poorest soul, delivered by Him, can bring tribute,
which He esteems as precious beyond all earthly treasure. Nor need
the remaining clauses militate against the view that the ransomed man
is the subject in them. The psalm had a historical basis, and all its
points cannot be introduced into the Messianic interpretation. This
one of praying for the king cannot be; notwithstanding the attempts of
some commentators to find a meaning for it in Christian prayers for
the spread of Christ's kingdom. That explanation does violence to
the language, mistakes the nature of Messianic prophecy, and brings
discredit on the view that the psalm has a Messianic character.

The last part of the psalm (vv. 16, 17) recurs to petitions for the
growth of the nation and the perpetual flourishing of the king's
name. The fertility of the land and the increase of its people are
the psalmist's desires, which are also certainties, as expressed in
ver. 16. He sees in imagination the whole land waving with abundant
harvests, which reach even to the tops of the mountains, and rustle
in the summer air, with a sound like the cedars of Lebanon, when
they move their layers of greenness to the breeze. The word rendered
above "abundance" is doubtful; but there does not seem to be in
the psalmist's mind the contrast which he is often supposed to be
expressing, beautiful and true as it, is between the small beginnings
and the magnificent end of the kingdom on earth. The mountains are
here thought of as lofty and barren. If waving harvests clothe their
gaunt sides, how will the vales laugh in plentiful crops! As the earth
yields her increase, so the people of the king shall be multiplied,
and from all his cities they shall spring forth abundant as grass.
That figure would bear much expansion; for what could more beautifully
set forth rapidity of growth, close-knit community, multiplication of
units, and absorption of these in a lovely whole, than the picture of
a meadow clothed with its grassy carpet? Such hopes had only partial
fulfilment in Israel. Nor have they had adequate fulfilment up till
now. But they lie on the horizon of the future, and they shall one
day be reached. Much that is dim is treasured in them. There may
be a renovated world, from which the curse of barrenness has been
banished. There shall be a swift increase of the subjects of the
King, until the earlier hope of the psalm is fulfilled, and all
nations shall serve Him.

But bright as are the poet's visions concerning the kingdom, his last
gaze is fastened on its king, and he prays that his name may last for
ever, and may send forth shoots as long as the sun shines in the sky.
He probably meant no more than a prayer for the continual duration of
the dynasty, and his conception of the name as sending forth shoots was
probably that of its being perpetuated in descendants. But, as has been
already noticed, the perpetuity, which he conceived of as belonging
to a family and an office, really belongs to the One King, Jesus
Christ, whose Name is above every name, and will blossom anew in fresh
revelations of its infinite contents, not only while the sun shines,
but when its fires are cold and its light quenched. The psalmist's last
desire is that the ancient promise to the fathers may be fulfilled in
the King, their descendant, in whom men shall bless themselves. So full
of blessedness may He seem to all men, that they shall take Him for the
very type of felicity, and desire to be even as He is! In men's relation
to Christ the phrase assumes a deeper meaning still; and though that is
not intended by the psalmist, and is not the exposition of his words,
it still is true that in Christ all blessings for humanity are stored,
and that therefore if men are to be truly blessed they must plunge
themselves into Him, and in Him find all that they need for blessedness
and nobility of life and character. If He is our supreme type of
whatsoever things are fair and of good report, and if we have bowed
ourselves to Him because He has delivered us from death, then we share
in His life, and all His blessings are parted among us.




                               BOOK III.

                        _PSALMS LXXIII.-LXXXIX._




                             PSALM LXXIII.

   1  Surely God is good to Israel,
      To those who are pure in heart;
   2  But I--within a little of turning aside were my feet,
      All but slipping were my steps.

   3  For I was envious of the foolish,
      When I saw the prosperity of the wicked.
   4  For they have no bonds [dragging them] to death,
      And their body is lusty.
   5  In the trouble belonging to frail mortals they have no part
      And [in common] with men they are not smitten.
   6  Therefore pride is their necklace;
      Violence covers them as a robe.

   7  Out of fat their eye flashes;
      The imaginations of their heart overflow.
   8  They mock and speak wickedly of oppression,
      [As] from on high they speak.
   9  They set in the heavens their mouth,
      And their tongue stalks on the earth.
  10  Therefore he turns his people thither,
      And waters of abundance are drunk up by them.

  11  And they say, How does God know?
      And is there knowledge in the Most High?
  12  Behold! these are wicked,
      And, prosperous for ever, they have increased their wealth.
  13  Surely in vain have I cleansed my heart,
      And in innocency have washed my hands.
  14  Yet have I been smitten all the day,
      And my correction [came] every morning.

  15  If I had said, I will speak thus,
      Behold, I should have been unfaithful to the generation of Thy
                children.
  16  When I gave thought in order to understand this,
      It was too difficult in my eyes--
  17  Until I went into the sanctuary of God,
      And gave heed to their end.
  18  Surely in slippery places Thou dost set them;
      Thou castest them down to ruins.

  19  How are they become a desolation in a moment,
      Are ended, consumed with terrors!
  20  Like a dream on awaking,
      So Lord, on [Thy] arousing, Thou wilt despise their shadowy form.
  21  For my heart was growing bitter,
      And I was pricked [in] my reins.
  22  And I, I was brutish and ignorant,
      A [very] beast was I before Thee.

  23  And yet I, I am continually with Thee;
      Thou hast grasped [me] by my right hand
  24  In Thy counsel Thou wilt guide me,
      And afterwards to glory wilt "take" me.
  25  Whom have I in heaven?
      And, possessing Thee, I have no delight on earth.
  26  [Though] my flesh and my heart fail,
      The rock of my heart and my portion is God for ever.

  27  For, behold, they that are far from Thee shall perish;
      Thou hast destroyed every one that goes whoring from Thee.
  28  But I, I--to draw near to God is good to me;
      I have made in the Lord Jehovah my refuge,
      That I may recount all Thy works.


The perennial problem of reconciling God's moral government with
observed facts is grappled with in this psalm, as in Psalms xxxvii.
and xlix. It tells how the prosperity of the godless, in apparent flat
contradiction of Divine promises, had all but swept the psalmist from
his faith, and how he was led, through doubt and struggle, to closer
communion with God, in which he learned, not only the evanescence of
the external well-being which had so perplexed him, but the eternity
of the true blessedness belonging to the godly. His solution of
the problem is in part that of the two psalms just mentioned, but
it surpasses them in its clear recognition that the portion of the
righteous, which makes their lot supremely blessed, is no mere earthly
prosperity, but God Himself, and in its pointing to "glory" which
comes afterwards, as one element in the solution of the problem.

The psalm falls into two divisions, in the first of which (vv. 1-14) the
psalmist tells of his doubts, and, in the second (vv. 15-28), of his
victory over them. The body of the psalm is divided into groups of four
verses, and it has an introduction and conclusion of two verses each.

The introduction (vv. 1, 2) asserts, with an accent of assurance, the
conviction which the psalmist had all but lost, and therefore had the
more truly won. The initial word "Surely" is an indication of his
past struggle, when the truth that God was good to Israel had seemed
so questionable. "This I have learned by doubts; this I now hold as
most sure; this I proclaim, impugn it who list, and seem to contradict
it what may." The decisiveness of the psalmist's conviction does not
lead him to exaggeration. He does not commit himself to the thesis
that outward prosperity attends Israel. That God is good to those who
truly bear that name is certain; but how He shows His goodness, and
who these are, the psalmist has, by his struggles, learned to conceive
of in a more spiritual fashion than before. That goodness may be
plainly seen in sorrows, and it is only sealed to those who are what
the name of Israel imports--"pure in heart." That such are blessed in
possessing God, and that neither are any other blessed, nor is there
any other blessedness, are the lessons which the singer has brought
with him from the darkness, and by which the ancient faith of the
well-being of the righteous is set on surer foundations than before.

The avowal of conquered doubts follows on this clear note of certitude.
There is a tinge of shame in the emphatic "I" of ver. 2, and in the
broken construction and the change of subject to "my feet" and "my
steps." The psalmist looks back to that dreary time, and sees more
clearly than he did, while he was caught in the toils of perplexity
and doubt, how narrow had been his escape from casting away his
confidence. He shudders as he remembers it; but he can do so now from
the vantage-ground of tried and regained faith. How eloquently the order
of thought in these two verses speaks of the complete triumph over doubt!

In the first quatrain of verses, the prosperity of the godless, which
had been the psalmist's stumbling-block, is described. Two things are
specified--physical health, and exemption from calamity. The former is
the theme of ver. 4. Its first clause is doubtful. The word rendered
"bands" only occurs here and in Isa. lviii. 6. It literally means
bands, but may pass into the figurative signification of pains, and is
sometimes by some taken in that meaning here, and the whole clause as
asserting that the wicked have painless and peaceful deaths. But such
a declaration is impossible in the face of vv. 18, 19, which assert
the very opposite, and would be out of place at this point of the
psalm, which is here occupied with the lives, not the deaths, of the
ungodly. Hupfeld translates "They are without pains even until their
deaths"; but that rendering puts an unusual sense on the preposition
"to," which is not "till." A very plausible conjecture alters the
division of words, splitting the one which means "to their death"
(_l'motham_) into two (_lamo tam_), of which the former is attached
to the preceding words ("there are no pains _to them_" = "they have
no pains"), and the latter to the following clause ("_Sound_ and well
nourished is," etc.). This suggestion is adopted by Ewald and most
modern commentators, and has much in its favour. If the existing
text is retained, the rendering above seems best. It describes the
prosperous worldling as free from troubles or diseases, which would
be like chains on a captive, by which he is dragged to execution.
It thus gives a parallel to the next clause, which describes their
bodies (lit., belly) as stalwart. Ver. 5 carries on the description,
and paints the wicked's exemption from trouble. The first clause is
literally, "In the trouble of man they are not." The word for man here
is that which connotes frailty and mortality, while in the next clause
it is the generic term "Adam." Thus the prosperous worldlings appeared
to the psalmist, in his times of scepticism, as possessing charmed
lives, which were free from all the ills that came from frailty and
mortality, and, as like superior beings, lifted above the universal
lot. But what did their exemption do for them? Its effects might have
taught the doubter that the prosperity at which his faith staggered
was no blessing, for it only inflated its recipients with pride, and
urged them on to high-handed acts. Very graphically does ver. 6 paint
them as having the former for their necklace, and the latter for their
robe. A proud man carries a stiff neck and a high head. Hence the
picture in ver. 6 of "pride" as wreathed about their necks as a chain
or necklace. High-handed violence is their garment, according to the
familiar metaphor by which a man's characteristics are likened to his
dress, the garb of his soul. The double meaning of "habit," and the
connection between "custom" and "costume," suggest the same figure. As
the clothing wraps the body and is visible to the world, so insolent
violence, masterfulness enforced by material weapons and contemptuous
of others' rights, characterised these men, who had never learned
gentleness in the school of suffering. Tricked out with a necklace of
pride and a robe of violence, they strutted among men, and thought
themselves far above the herd, and secure from the touch of trouble.

The next group of verses (vv. 7-10) further describes the unfeeling
insolence begotten of unbroken prosperity, and the crowd of hangers-on,
admirers, and imitators attendant on the successful wicked. "Out of
fat their eye flashes" gives a graphic picture of the fierce glare of
insolent eyes, set in well-fed faces. But graphic as it is, it scarcely
fits the context so well as does a proposed amended reading, which by a
very small change in the word rendered "their eye" yields the meaning
"their iniquity," and takes "fat" as equivalent to a fat, that is, an
obstinate, self-confident, or unfeeling heart. "From an unfeeling heart
their iniquity comes forth" makes a perfect parallel with the second
clause of the verse rightly rendered, "the imaginations of their heart
overflow"; and both clauses paint the arrogant tempers and bearing of
the worldlings. Ver. 8 deals with the manifestation of these in speech.
Well-to-do wickedness delights in making suffering goodness a butt for
its coarse jeers. It does not need much wit to do that. Clumsy jests
are easy, and poverty is fair game for vulgar wealth's ridicule. But
there is a dash of ferocity in such laughter, and such jests pass
quickly into earnest, and wicked oppression. "As from on high they
speak,"--fancying themselves set on a pedestal above the common masses.
The LXX., followed by many moderns, attaches "oppression" to the second
clause, which makes the verse more symmetrical; but the existing
division of clauses yields an appropriate sense.

The description of arrogant speech is carried on in ver. 9, which has
been variously understood, as referring in _a_ to blasphemy against God
("they set against the heavens their mouth"), and in _b_ to slander
against men; or, as in _a_, continuing the thought of ver. 8 _b_, and
designating their words as spoken as if from heaven itself, and in _b_
ascribing to their words sovereign power among men. But it is better
to regard "heaven" and "earth" as the ordinary designation of the
whole visible frame of things, and to take the verse as describing the
self-sufficiency which gives its opinions and lays down the law about
everything, and, on the other hand, the currency and influence which are
accorded by the popular voice to the dicta of prosperous worldlings.

That thought prepares the way for the enigmatic verse which follows.
There are several obscure points in it. First, the verb in the Hebrew
text means _turns_ (transitive), which the Hebrew margin corrects
into _returns_ (intransitive). With the former reading, "his people"
is the object of the verb, and the implied subject is the prosperous
wicked man, the change to the singular "he" from the plural "they" of
the preceding clauses being not unusual in Hebrew. With the latter
reading, "his people" is the subject. The next question is to whom the
"people" are conceived as belonging. It is, at first sight, natural
to think of the frequent Scripture expression, and to take the "his"
as referring to God, and the phrase to mean the true Israel. But the
meaning seems rather to be the mob of parasites and hangers-on, who
servilely follow the successful sinner, in hope of some crumbs from
his table. "Thither" means "to himself," and the whole describes how
such a one as the man whose portrait has just been drawn is sure to
attract a retinue of dependants, who say as he says, and would fain
be what he is. The last clause describes the share of these parasites
in their patron's prosperity. "Waters of abundance"--_i.e._, abundant
waters--may be an emblem of the pernicious principles of the wicked,
which their followers swallow greedily; but it is more probably a
figure for fulness of material good, which rewards the humiliation of
servile adherents to the prosperous worldling.

The next group (vv. 11-14) begins with an utterance of unbelief or
doubt, but it is difficult to reach certainty as to the speakers.
It is very natural to refer the "they" to the last-mentioned
persons--namely, the people who have been led to attach themselves to
the prosperous sinners, and who, by the example of these, are led to
question the reality of God's acquaintance with and moral government
of human affairs. The question is, as often, in reality a denial. But
"they" may have a more general sense, equivalent to our own colloquial
use of it for an indefinite multitude. "They say"--that is, "the
common opinion and rumour is." So here, the meaning may be, that the
sight of such flushed and flourishing wickedness diffuses widespread
and deep-going doubts of God's knowledge, and makes many infidels.

Ewald, Delitzsch, and others take all the verses of this group as
spoken by the followers of the ungodly; and, unquestionably, that
view avoids the difficulty of allotting the parts to different unnamed
interlocutors. But it raises difficulties of another kind--as, for
instance, those of supposing that these adulators should roundly call
their patrons wicked, and that an apostate should profess that he has
cleansed his heart. The same objections do not hold against the view
that these four verses are the utterance, not of the wicked rich man
or his coterie of admirers, but of the wider number whose faith has
been shaken. There is nothing in the verses which would be unnatural
on such lips.

Ver. 11 would then be a question anxiously raised by faith that was
beginning to reel; ver. 12 would be a statement of the anomalous fact
which staggered it; and vv. 13, 14, the complaint of the afflicted
godly. The psalmist's repudiation of a share in such incipient
scepticism would begin with ver. 15. There is much in favour of this
view of the speakers, but against it is the psalmist's acknowledgment,
in ver. 2, that his own confidence in God's moral government had been
shaken, of which there is no further trace in the psalm, unless vv.
13, 14, express the conclusion which he had been tempted to draw, and
which, as he proceeds to say, he had fought down. If these two verses
are ascribed to him, ver. 12 is best regarded as a summary of the
whole preceding part, and only ver. 11 as the utterance either of the
prosperous sinner and his adherents (in which case it is a question
which means denial), or as that of troubled faith (in which case it
is a question that would fain be an affirmation, but has been forced
unwillingly to regard the very pillars of the universe as trembling).

Vv. 15-18 tell how the psalmist strove with and finally conquered his
doubts, and saw enough of the great arc of the Divine dealings, to
be sure that the anomaly, which had exercised his faith, was capable
of complete reconciliation with the righteousness of Providence. It
is instructive to note that he silenced his doubts, out of regard
to "the generation of Thy children"--that is, to the true Israel,
the pure in heart. He was tempted to speak as others did not fear to
speak, impugning God's justice and proclaiming the uselessness of
purity; but he locked his lips, lest his words should prove him untrue
to the consideration which he owed to meek and simple hearts, who
knew nothing of the speculative difficulties torturing him. He does
not say that his speaking would have been sin against God. It would
not have been so, if, in speaking, he had longed for confirmation of
his wavering faith. But whatever the motive of his words, they might
have shaken some lowly believers. Therefore he resolved on silence.
Like all wise and devout men, he swallowed his own smoke, and let the
process of doubting go on to its end of certainty, one way or another,
before he spoke. This psalm, in which he tells how he overcame them,
is his first acknowledgment that he had had these temptations to cast
away his confidence. Fermentation should be done in the dark. When
the process is finished, and the product is clear, it is fit to be
produced and drank. Certitudes are meant to be uttered; doubts are
meant to be struggled with. The psalmist has set an example which many
men need to ponder to-day. It is easy, and it is also cruel, to raise
questions which the proposer is not ready to answer.

Silent brooding over his problem did not bring light, as ver. 16 tells
us. The more he thought over it, the more insoluble did it seem to
him. There are chambers which the key of thinking will not open.
Unwelcome as the lesson is, we have to learn that every lock will not
yield to even prolonged and strenuous investigation. The lamp of the
Understanding throws its beams far, but there are depths of darkness
too deep and dark for them; and they are wisest who know its limits
and do not try to use it in regions where it is useless.

But faith finds a path where speculation discerns none. The psalmist
"went into the sanctuary (literally, sanctuaries) of God," and there
light streamed in on him, in which he saw light. Not mere entrance
into the place of worship, but closer approach to the God who dwelt
there, cleared away the mists. Communion with God solves many problems
which thinking leaves unresolved. The eye which has gazed on God is
purged for much vision besides. The disproportion between the deserts
and fortunes of good and bad men assumes an altogether different
aspect when contemplated in the light of present communion with Him,
which brings a blessedness that makes earthly prosperity seem dross,
and earthly burdens seem feathers. Such communion, in its seclusion
from worldly agitations, enables a man to take calmer, saner views
of life, and in its enduring blessedness reveals more clearly the
transiency of the creatural good which deceives men with the figment
of its permanence. The lesson which the psalmist learned in the solemn
stillness of the sanctuary was the end of ungodly prosperity. That
changes the aspect of the envied position of the prosperous sinner,
for his very prosperity is seen to contribute to his downfall, as well
as to make that downfall more tragic by contrast. His sure footing,
exempt as he seemed from the troubles and ills that flesh is heir to,
was really on a treacherous <DW72>, like smooth sheets of rock on a
mountain-side. To stand on them is to slide down to hideous ruin.

The theme of the end of the prosperous sinners is continued in the
next group (vv. 19-22). In ver. 19 the psalmist seems as if standing
an amazed spectator of the crash, which tumbles into chaos the
solid-seeming fabric of their insolent prosperity. An exclamation
breaks from his lips as he looks. And then destruction is foretold
for all such, under the solemn and magnificent image of ver. 20. God
has seemed to sleep, letting evil run its course; but He "rouses
Himself"--that is, comes forth in judicial acts--and as a dreamer
remembers his dream, which seemed so real, and smiles at its imaginary
terrors or joys, so He will "despise" them, as no more solid nor
lasting than phantasms of the night. The end contemplated by the
psalmist is not necessarily death, but any sudden overthrow, of which
there are many in the experience of the godless. Life is full of such
awakings of God, both in regard to individuals and nations, which,
if a man duly regards, he will find the problem of the psalm less
insoluble than at first it appears. But if there are lives which,
being without goodness, are also without chastisement, Death comes at
last to such as God's awaking, and a very awful dissipating of earthly
prosperity into a shadowy nothing.

The psalmist has no revelation here of future retribution. His
vindication of God's justice is not based on that, but simply on the
transiency of worldly prosperity, and on its dangerous character.
It is "a slippery place," and it is sure to come to an end. It is
obvious that there are many other considerations which have to be
taken into account, in order to a complete solution of the problem
of the psalm. But the psalmist's solution goes far to lighten the
painful perplexity of it; and if we add his succeeding thoughts as to
the elements of true blessedness, we have solution enough for peaceful
acquiescence, if not for entire understanding. The psalmist's way
of finding an answer is even more valuable than the answer which he
found. They who dwell in the secret place of the Most High can look on
the riddle of this painful world with equanimity, and be content to
leave it half unsolved.

Vv. 21, 22, are generally taken as one sentence, and translated as by
Delitzsch, "If my heart should grow bitter ... I should be brutish,"
etc.; or, as by Hupfeld, "When my heart grew bitter ... then I was
as a beast," etc.; but they are better regarded as the psalmist's
penitent explanation of his struggle. "Unbelieving thoughts had
fermented in his mind, and a pang of passionate discontent had pierced
his inmost being. But the higher self blames the lower self for such
folly" (Cheyne, _in loc._). His recognition that his doubts had their
source, not in defect in God's providence, but in his own ignorance
and hasty irritation, which took offence without cause, prepares him
for the sweet, clear note of purely spiritual aspiration and fruition
which follows in the next strophe.

He had all but lost his hold of God; but though his feet had almost gone
astray, his hand had been grasped by God, and that strong hold had kept
him from utterly falling. The pledge of continual communion with God is
not our own vacillating, wayward hearts, but God's gentle, strong clasp,
which will not let us go. Thus conscious of constant fellowship, and
feeling thrillingly God's touch in his inmost spirit, the psalmist rises
to a height of joyous assurance, far above doubts and perplexities
caused by the unequal distribution of earth's trivial good. For him,
all life will be illumined by God's counsel, which will guide him as
a shepherd leads his sheep, and which he will obey as a sheep follows
his shepherd. How small the delights of the prosperous men seem now!
And can there be an end to that sweet alliance, such as smites earthly
good? There are blessings which bear in themselves assurance of their
own undyingness; and this psalmist, who had nothing to say of the future
retribution falling on the sinner whose delights were confined to earth,
feels that death cannot put a period to a union so blessed and spiritual
as was his with God. To him, "afterwards" was irradiated with light
from present blessedness; and a solemnly joyful conviction springs in
his soul, which he casts into words that glance at the story of Enoch's
translation, from which "take" is quoted (_cf._ Psalm xlix. 16). Whether
we translate "with glory" or "to glory," there can be no question that
the psalmist is looking beyond life on earth to dwelling with God in
glory. We have, in this utterance, the expression of the conviction,
inseparable from any true, deep communion with God, that such communion
can never be at the mercy of Death. The real proof of a life beyond the
grave is the resurrection of Jesus; and the pledge of it is present
enjoyment of fellowship with God.

Such thoughts lift the psalmist to a height from which earth's
troubles show small, and as they diminish, the perplexity arising
from their distribution diminishes in proportion. They fade away
altogether, when he feels how rich he is in possessing God. Surely the
very summit of devotional rapture is reached in the immortal words
which follow! Heaven without God were a waste to this man. With God,
he needs not nor desires anything on earth. If the impossible should
be actual, and heart as well as flesh should fail, his naked self
would be clothed and rich, steadfast and secure, as long as he had
God; and he is so closely knit to God, that he knows that he will
not lose Him though he dies, but have Him for his very own for ever.
What care need he have how earth's vain goods come and go? Whatever
outward calamities or poverty may be his lot, there is no riddle in
that Divine government which thus enriches the devout heart; and the
richest ungodly man is poor, because he shuts himself out from the one
all-sufficient and enduring wealth.

A final pair of verses, answering to the introductory pair, gathers
up the double truth, which the psalmist has learned to grasp more
firmly by occasion of his doubts. To be absent from God is to perish.
Distance from Him is separation from life. Drawing near to Him is the
only good; and the psalmist has deliberately chosen it as _his_ good,
let worldly prosperity come or go as it list, or, rather, as God shall
choose. By the effort of his own volition he has made God his refuge,
and, safe in Him, he can bear the sorrows of the godly, and look
unenvying on the fleeting prosperity of sinners, while, with insight
drawn from communion, he can recount with faith and praise all God's
works, and find in none of them a stumbling-block, nor fail to find in
any of them material for a song of thankfulness.




                              PSALM LXXIV.

   1  Why, O God, hast Thou cast us off for ever?
      [Why] smokes Thine anger against the flock of Thy pasture?
   2  Remember Thy congregation [which] Thou didst acquire of old,
      Didst redeem [to be] the tribe of Thine inheritance,
      Mount Zion, on which Thou hast dwelt.
   3  Lift up Thy steps to the everlasting ruins,
      The enemy has marred everything in the sanctuary.

   4  Thine adversaries roared in the midst of the place where Thou
                dost meet [us],
      They set up their signs as signs.
   5  They seem like one who heaves on high
      Axes against a thicket of trees.
   6  And now--its carved work altogether
      With hatchet and hammers they break down.
   7  They have set on fire Thy sanctuary,
      [Rasing it] to the ground, they have profaned the dwelling-place
                of Thy name.
   8  They have said in their heart, Let us crush them altogether.
      They have burned all meeting-places of God in the land.
   9  Our signs we see not,
      There is no prophet any more,
      And there is no one who knows how long.

  10  How long, O God, shall the adversary reproach?
      Shall the enemy despise Thy name for ever?
  11  Why dost Thou draw back Thy hand, even Thy right hand?
      From the midst of Thy bosom [pluck it and] consume [them].

  12  Yet God is my king from of old,
      Working salvations in the midst of the earth.
  13  Thou, Thou didst divide the sea by Thy strength,
      Didst break the heads of monsters on the waters.
  14  Thou, Thou didst crush the heads of Leviathan,
      That Thou mightest give him [to be] meat for a people--the desert
                beasts.
  15  Thou, Thou didst cleave [a way for] fountain and torrent;
      Thou, Thou didst dry up perennial streams.
  16  Thine is day, Thine also is night,
      Thou, Thou didst establish light and sun.
  17  Thou, Thou didst set all the bounds of the earth;
      Summer and winter, Thou, Thou didst form them.

  18  Remember this--the enemy reviles Jehovah,
      And a foolish people despises Thy name.
  19  Give not up to the company of greed Thy turtle dove,
      The company of Thine afflicted forget not for ever.
  20  Look upon the covenant,
      For the dark places of the land are full of habitations of
                violence.
  21  Let not the oppressed turn back ashamed,
      Let the afflicted and needy praise Thy name.
  22  Rise, O God, plead Thine own cause,
      Remember Thy reproach from the foolish all the day.
  23  Forget not the voice of Thine adversaries,
      The tumult of them which rise against Thee goes up continually.


Two periods only correspond to the circumstances described in this
psalm and its companion (lxxix.)--namely, the Chaldean invasion and
sack of Jerusalem, and the persecution under Antiochus Epiphanes. The
general situation outlined in the psalm fits either of these; but, of
its details, some are more applicable to the former and others to the
later period. The later date is strongly supported by such complaints
as those of the cessation of prophecy (ver. 9), the flaunting of
the invaders' signs in the sanctuary (ver. 4), and the destruction
by fire of all the "meeting-places of God in the land" (ver. 8). On
the other hand, the earlier date better fits other features of the
psalm--since Antiochus did not destroy or burn, but simply profaned
the Temple, though he did, indeed, set fire to the gates and porch,
but to these only. It would appear that, on either hypothesis,
something must be allowed for poetical colouring. Calvin, whom
Cheyne follows in this, accounts for the introduction of the burning
of the Temple into a psalm referring to the desolation wrought by
Antiochus, by the supposition that the psalmist speaks in the name of
the "faithful, who, looking on the horrid devastation of the Temple,
and being warned by so sad a sight, carried back their thoughts to
that conflagration by which it had been destroyed by the Chaldeans,
and wove the two calamities together into one." It is less difficult
to pare down the statement as to the burning of the Temple so as to
suit the later date, than that as to the silence of prophecy and
the other characteristics mentioned, so as to fit the earlier. The
question is still further complicated by the similarities between the
two psalms and Jeremiah (compare ver. 4 with Lam. ii. 7, and ver. 9
with Lam. ii. 9). The prophet's well-known fondness for quotations
gives probability, other things being equal, to the supposition that
he is quoting the psalm, which would, in that case, be older than
Lamentations. But this inference scarcely holds good, if there are
other grounds on which the later date of the psalm is established. It
would be very natural in a singer of the Maccabean period to go back
to the prophet whose sad strains had risen at another black hour. On
the whole, the balance is in favour of the later date.

The psalm begins with a complaining cry to God (vv. 1-3), which passes
into a piteous detail of the nation's misery (vv. 4-9), whence it
rises into petition (vv. 10, 11), stays trembling faith by gazing upon
His past deeds of help and the wonders of His creative power (vv.
12-17), and closes with beseeching God to vindicate the honour of His
own name by the deliverance of His people (vv. 18-23).

The main emphasis of the prayer in vv. 1-3 lies on the pleas which
it presents, drawn from Israel's relation to God. The characteristic
Asaphic name "Thy flock" stands in ver. 1, and appeals to the
Shepherd, both on the ground of His tenderness and of His honour as
involved in the security of the sheep. A similar appeal lies in the
two words "acquire" and "redeem," in both of which the deliverance
from Egypt is referred to,--the former expression suggesting the
price at which the acquisition was made, as well as the obligations
of ownership; and the latter, the office of the Goel, the
Kinsman-Redeemer, on whom devolved the duty of obtaining satisfaction
for blood. The double designations of Israel as "Thy congregation" and
as "the tribe of Thine inheritance" probably point to the religious
and civil aspects of the national life. The strongest plea is put
last--namely, God's dwelling on Zion. For all these reasons, the
psalmist asks and expects Him to come with swift footsteps to the
desolations, which have endured so long that the impatience of despair
blends with the cry for help, and calls them "everlasting," even while
it prays that they may be built up again. The fact that the enemy
of God and of His flock has marred everything _in the sanctuary_ is
enough, the psalmist thinks, to move God to action.

The same thought, that the nation's calamities are really dishonouring
to God, and therefore worthy of His intervention, colours the whole
of the description of these in vv. 4-9. The invaders are "_Thine_
adversaries." It is "in the place where _Thou_ didst meet us" that
their bestial noises, like those of lions over their prey, echo. It
is "_Thy_ sanctuary" which they have set on fire, "the dwelling-place
of _Thy_ name" which they have profaned. It is "_Thy_ meeting-places"
which they have burned throughout the land. Only at the end of the
sad catalogue is the misery of the people touched on, and that, not
so much as inflicted by human foes, as by the withdrawal of God's
Spirit. This is, in fact, the dominant thought of the whole psalm.
It says very little about the sufferings resulting from the success
of the enemy, but constantly recurs to the insult to God, and the
reproach adhering to His name therefrom. The essence of it all is in
the concluding prayer, "Plead _Thine own_ cause" (ver. 22).

The vivid description of devastation in these verses presents some
difficulties in detail, which call for brief treatment. The "signs" in
ver. 4 _b_ may be taken as military, such as banners or the like; but
it is more in accordance with the usage of the word to suppose them
to be religious emblems, or possibly idols, such as Antiochus thrust
upon the Jews. In vv. 5 and 6 a change of tense represents the action
described in them, as if in progress at the moment before the singer's
eyes. "They seem" is literally "He is known" (or _makes himself
known_), which may refer to the invaders, the change from plural to
singular being frequent in Hebrew; or it may be taken impersonally,
= "It seems." In either case it introduces a comparison between the
hacking and hewing by the spoilers in the Temple, and the work of a
woodman swinging on high his axe in the forest. "And now" seems to
indicate the next step in the scene; which the psalmist picturesquely
conceives as passing before his horror-stricken sight. The end of that
ill-omened activity is that at last it succeeds in shattering the
carved work, which, in the absence of statues, was the chief artistic
glory of the Temple. All is hewed down, as if it were no more than
so much growing timber. With ver. 7 the tenses change to the calmer
tone of historical narration. The plundered Temple is set on fire--a
point which, as has been noticed above, is completely applicable only
to the Chaldean invasion. Similarly, the next clause, "they have
profaned the dwelling-place of Thy name to the ground," does not apply
in literality to the action of Antiochus, who did indeed desecrate,
but did not destroy, the Temple. The expression is a pregnant one,
and calls for some such supplement as is given above, which, however,
dilutes its vigour while it elucidates its meaning. In ver. 8 the word
"let us crush them" has been erroneously taken as a noun, and rendered
"their brood," a verb like "we will root out" being supplied. So the
LXX. and some of the old versions, followed by Hitzig and Baethgen.
But, as Delitzsch well asks,--Why are only the children to be rooted
out? and why should the object of the action be expressed, and not
rather the action, of which the object would be self-evident? The
"meeting-places of God in the land" cannot be old sanctuaries, nor
the high places, which were Israel's sin; for no psalmist could have
adduced the destruction of these as a reason for God's intervention.
They can only be the synagogues. The expression is a strong argument
for the later date of the psalm. Equally strong is the lament in ver.
9 over the removal of the "signs"--_i.e._, as in ver. 4, the emblems
of religion, or the sacrifices and festivals, suppressed by Antiochus,
which were the tokens of the covenant between God and Israel. The
silence of prophecy cannot be alleged of the Chaldean period without
some straining of facts and of the words here; nor is it true that
then there was universal ignorance of the duration of the calamity,
for Jeremiah had foretold it.

Vv. 10 and 11 are the kernel of the psalm, the rest of which is
folded round them symmetrically. Starting from this centre and working
outwards, we note that it is preceded by six verses dilating on the
profanations of the name of God, and followed by six setting forth
the glories of that name in the past. The connection of these two
portions of the psalm is obvious. They are, as it were, the inner
shell round the kernel. The outer shell is the prayer in three verses
which begins the psalm, and that in six verses which closes it. Ver.
10 takes up the despairing "How long" from the end of the preceding
portion, and turns it into a question to God. It is best to ask Him,
when ignorance pains us. But the interrogation does not so much beg
for enlightenment as to the duration of the calamity as for its
abbreviation. It breathes not precisely impatience, but longing that
a state of things so dishonouring to God should end. That aspect, and
not personal suffering, is prominent in the verse. It is "Thy name"
which is insulted by the adversaries actions, and laid open to their
contempt, as the name of a Deity powerless to protect His worshippers.
Their action "reproaches," and His inaction lets them "despise," His
name. The psalmist cannot endure that this condition should drag on
indefinitely, as if "for ever," and his prayer-question "How long?" is
next exchanged for another similar blending of petition and inquiry,
"_Why_ dost Thou draw back Thy hand?" Both are immediately translated
into that petition which they both really mean. "From the midst of Thy
bosom consume," is a pregnant phrase, like that in ver. 7 _b_, and has
to be completed as above, though, possibly, the verb stands absolutely
as equivalent to "make an end"--_i.e._, of such a state of things.

The psalmist's petition is next grounded on the revelation of God's
name in Israel's past, and in creative acts of power. These at once
encourage him to expect that God will pluck His hand out from the folds
of His robe, where it lies inactive, and appeal to God to be what He
has been of old, and to rescue the name which He has thus magnified
from insult. There is singular solemnity in the emphatic reiteration
of "Thou" in these verses. The Hebrew does not usually express the
pronominal nominative to a verb, unless special attention is to be
called to it; but in these verses it does so uniformly, with one
exception, and the sevenfold repetition of the word brings forcibly into
view the Divine personality and former deeds which pledge God to act
now. Remembrance of past wonders made present misery more bitter, but it
also fanned into a flame the spark of confidence that the future would
be like the past. One characteristic of the Asaph psalms is wistful
retrospect, which is sometimes the basis of rebuke, and sometimes of
hope, and sometimes of deepened sorrow, but is here in part appeal to
God and in part consolation. The familiar instances of His working
drawn from the Exodus history appear in the psalm. First comes the
dividing of the Red Sea, which is regarded chiefly as occasioning the
destruction of the Egyptians, who are symbolised by the "sea-monsters"
and by "leviathan" (the crocodile). Their fate is an omen of what the
psalmist hopes may befall the oppressors of his own day. There is
great poetic force in the representation that the strong hand, which
by a stroke parted the waters, crushed by the same blow the heads of
the foul creatures who "floated many a rood" on them. And what an end
for the pomp of Pharaoh and his host, to provide a meal for jackals
and the other beasts of the desert, who tear the corpses strewing
the barren shore! The meaning is completely misapprehended when "the
people inhabiting the wilderness" is taken to be wild desert tribes.
The expression refers to animals, and its use as designating them has
parallels (as Prov. xxx. 25, 26).

In ver. 15 another pregnant expression occurs, which is best filled
out as above, the reference being to cleaving the rock for the flow of
water, with which is contrasted in _b_ the drying up of the Jordan.
Thus the whole of the Exodus period is covered. It is noteworthy that
the psalmist adduces only wonders wrought on waters, being possibly
guided in his selection by the familiar poetic use of floods and seas
as emblems of hostile power and unbridled insolence. From the wonders
of history he passes to those of creation, and chiefly of that might
by which times alternate and each constituent of the Kosmos has its
appointed limits. Day and night, summer and winter, recur by God's
continual operation. Is there to be no dawning for Israel's night of
weeping, and no summer making glad the winter of its discontent? "Thou
didst set all the bounds of the earth,"--wilt Thou not bid back this
surging ocean which has transgressed its limits and filled the breadth
of Thy land? All the lights in the sky, and chiefly the greatest of
them, Thou didst establish,--surely Thou wilt end this eclipse in
which Thy people grope.

Thus the psalmist lifts himself to the height of confident though
humble prayer, with which the psalm closes, recurring to the opening
tones. Its centre is, as we have seen, a double remonstrance--"How
long?" and "Why?" The encircling circumference is earnest
supplication, of which the keynote is "Remember" (vv. 2 and 18).

The gist of this closing prayer is the same appeal to God to defend
His own honour, which we have found in the former verses. It is put in
various forms here. Twice (vv. 18 and 22) God is besought to remember
the reproach and contumely heaped on his name, and apparently warranted
by His inaction. The claim of Israel for deliverance is based in ver. 19
upon its being "_Thy_ turtle dove," which therefore cannot be abandoned
without sullying Thy fame. The psalmist spreads the "covenant" before
God, as reminding Him of His obligations under it. He asks that such
deeds may be done as will give occasion to the afflicted and needy
to "praise Thy name," which is being besmirched by their calamities.
Finally, in wonderfully bold words, he calls on God to take up what
is, after all, "His own" quarrel, and, if the cry of the afflicted
does not move Him, to listen to the loud voices of those who blaspheme
Him all the day. Reverent earnestness of supplication sometimes sounds
like irreverence; but, "when the heart's deeps boil in earnest," God
understands the meaning of what sounds strange, and recognises the
profound trust in His faithfulness and love which underlies bold words.

The precise rendering of ver. 19 is very doubtful. The word rendered
above by "company" may mean _life_ or _a living creature_, or,
collectively, a _company_ of such. It has been taken in all these
meanings here, and sometimes in one of them in the first clause,
and in another in the second, as most recently by Baethgen, who
renders "Abandon not to _the beast_" in _a_, and "_The life of_
thine afflicted" in _b_. But it must have the same meaning in both
clauses, and the form of the word shows that it must be construed
in both with a following "of." If so, the rendering adopted above
is best, though it involves taking the word rendered "greed" (lit.,
soul) in a somewhat doubtful sense. This rendering is adopted in the
R.V. (margin), and is, on the whole, the least difficult, and yields
a probable sense. Delitzsch recognises the necessity for giving the
ambiguous word the same meaning in both clauses, and takes that
meaning to be "creature," which suits well enough in _a_, but gives
a very harsh meaning to _b_. "Forget not Thy poor animals for ever"
is surely an impossible rendering. Other attempts have been made to
turn the difficulty by textual alteration. Hupfeld would transpose two
words in _a_, and so gets "Give not up to rage the life of Thy dove."
Cheyne corrects the difficult word into "to the sword," and Graetz
follows Dyserinck in preferring "to death," or Krochmal, who reads "to
destruction." If the existing text is retained, probably the rendering
adopted above is best.




                              PSALM LXXV.

   1  We give thanks to Thee, O God, we give thanks;
      And [that] Thy name is near, Thy wondrous works declare

   2  "When I seize the set time,
      I, I judge [in] equity.
   3  Dissolved [in fear] are earth and its inhabitants:
      I, I set firm its pillars. Selah.
   4  I say to the fools, be not foolish:
      And to the wicked, Lift not up the horn:
   5  Lift not up your horn on high;
      Speak not with stiff neck."

   6  For not from east, nor from west,
      And not from the wilderness is lifting up.
   7  For God is judge:
      This one He abases, and that one He lifts up.
   8  For a cup is in the hands of Jehovah,
      And it foams with wine; it is full of mixture,
      And He pours out from it:
      Yea, its dregs shall all the wicked of the earth gulp down and
                drink.

   9  And as for me, I will declare [it] for ever,
      I will harp to the God of Jacob.
  10  And all the horns of the wicked will I cut off:
      Exalted shall be the horns of the righteous.


This psalm deals with the general thought of God's judgment in
history, especially on heathen nations. It has no clear marks of
connection with any particular instance of that judgment. The
prevalent opinion has been that it refers, like the next psalm, to the
destruction of Sennacherib's army. There are in it slight resemblances
to psalm xlvi., and to Isaiah's prophecies regarding that event,
which support the conjecture. Cheyne seems to waver, as on page 148
of "Orig. of Psalt." he speaks of "the two Maccabean psalms, lxxiv.
and lxxv.," and on page 166 concludes that they "may be Maccabean, ...
but we cannot claim for this view the highest degree of probability,
especially as neither psalm refers to any warlike deeds of Israelites.
It is safer, I think, to ... assign them at the earliest to one of the
happier parts of the Persian age." It is apparently still safer to
refrain from assigning them to any precise period.

The kernel of the psalm is a majestic Divine utterance, proclaiming
God's judgment as at hand. The limits of that Divine word are doubtful,
but it is best taken as occupying two pairs of verses (2-5). It is
preceded by one verse of praise, and followed by three (6-8) of warning
spoken by the psalmist, and by two (9, 10,) in which he again praises
God the Judge, and stands forth as an instrument of His judicial acts.

In ver. 1, which is as a prelude to the great Voice from heaven, we hear
the nation giving thanks beforehand for the judgment which is about to
fall. The second part of the verse is doubtful. It may be taken thus:
"And Thy name is near; they (_i.e._, men) declare Thy wondrous works."
So Delitzsch, who comments: The Church "welcomes the future acts of God
with fervent thanks, and all they that belong to it declare beforehand
God's wondrous works." Several modern scholars, among whom are Graetz,
Baethgen, and Cheyne, adopt a textual alteration which gives the
reading, "They who call upon Thy name declare," etc. But the rendering
of the A.V., which is also that of Hupfeld and Perowne, gives a good
meaning. All God's deeds in history proclaim that He is ever at hand to
help. His name is His character as revealed by His self-manifestation;
and this is the glad thanks-evoking lesson, taught by all the past and
by the judicial act of which the psalm is the precursor--that He is near
to deliver His people. As Deut. iv. 7 has it, "What nation is there that
hath God so near unto them?"

The Divine voice breaks in with majestic abruptness, as in Psalm xlvi.
10. It proclaims impending judgment, which will restore society,
dissolving in dread or moral corruption, and will abase insolent
wickedness, which is therefore exhorted to submission. In ver. 2 two
great principles are declared--one in regard to the time and the other
in regard to the animating spirit of God's judgment. Literally, the
first words of the verse run, "When I lay hold of the appointed time."
The thought is that He has His own appointed time at which His power
will flash forth into act, and that till that moment arrives evil is
permitted to run its course, and insolent men to play their "fantastic
tricks" before an apparently indifferent or unobserving God. His
servants are tempted to think that He delays too long; His enemies, that
He will never break His silence. But the slow hand traverses the dial
in time, and at last the hour strikes and the crash comes punctually
at the moment. The purposes of delay are presented in Scripture as
twofold: on the one hand, "that the long-suffering of God may lead to
repentance"; and on the other, that evil may work itself out and show
its true character. To learn the lesson that, "when the set time is
come," judgment will fall, would save the oppressed from impatience
and despondency and the oppressor from dreams of impunity. It is a
law fruitful for the interpretation of the world's history. The other
fundamental truth in this verse is that the principle of God's judgment
is equity, rigid adherence to justice, so that every act of man's shall
receive accurately "its just recompense of reward." The "I" of ver. 2
_b_ is emphatic. It brings to view the lofty personality of the Judge,
and asserts the operation of a Divine hand in human affairs, while it
also lays the basis for the assurance that, the judgment being His, and
He being what He is, it must be "according to truth."

Such a "set time" has arrived, as ver. 3 proceeds to declare. Oppression
and corruption have gone so far that "the earth and its inhabitants" are
as if "dissolved." All things are rushing to ruin. The psalmist does
not distinguish between the physical and the moral here. His figure is
employed in reference to both orders, which he regards as indissolubly
connected. Possibly he is echoing Psalm xlvi. 6, "The earth melted,"
though there the "melting" is an expression for dread occasioned by
God's voice, and here rather refers to the results of "the proud man's
wrong." At such a supreme moment, when the solid framework of society
and of the world itself seems to be on the point of dissolution, the
mighty Divine Personality intervenes; that strong hand is thrust forth
to grasp the tottering pillars and stay their fall; or, in plain words,
God Himself then intervenes to re-establish the moral order of society,
and thus to save the sufferers. (Comp. Hannah's song in 1 Sam. ii. 8.)
That intervention has necessarily two aspects, being on the one hand
restorative, and on the other punitive. Therefore in vv. 4 and 5 follow
Divine warnings to the "fools" and "wicked," whose insolent boasting and
tyranny have provoked it. The word rendered "fools" seems to include
the idea of boastfulness as well as folly in the Biblical sense of
that word, which points to moral rather than to merely intellectual
aberration. "Lifting up the horn" is a symbol of arrogance. According to
the accents, the word rendered "stiff" is not to be taken as attached to
"neck", but as the object of the verb "speak," the resulting translation
being, "Speak not arrogance with a [stretched out] neck"; and thus
Delitzsch would render. But it is more natural to take the word in its
usual construction as an epithet of "neck", expressive of superciliously
holding a high head. Cheyne follows Baethgen in altering the text so as
to read "rock" for "neck"--a slight change which is supported by the
LXX. rendering ("Speak not unrighteousness against God")--and renders
"nor speak arrogantly of the rock." Like the other advocates of a
Maccabean date, he finds here a reference to the mad blasphemies of
Antiochus Epiphanes; but the words would suit Rabshakeh's railings quite
as well.

The exact point where the Divine oracle passes into the psalmist's own
words is doubtful. Ver. 7 is evidently his; and that verse is so closely
connected with ver. 6 that it is best to make the break at the end of
ver. 5, and to suppose that what follows is the singer's application
of the truths which he has heard. Two renderings of ver. 6 _b_ are
possible, which, though very different in English, turn on the minute
difference in the Hebrew of one vowel sign. The same letters spell the
Hebrew word meaning _mountains_ and that meaning _lifting up_. With
one punctuation of the preceding word "wilderness," we must translate
"from the wilderness of mountains"; with another, the two words are less
closely connected, and we must render, "from the wilderness is lifting
up." If the former rendering is adopted, the verse is incomplete, and
some phrase like "help comes" must be supplied, as Delitzsch suggests.
But "lifting up" occurs so often in this psalm, that it is more natural
to take the word in that meaning here, especially as the next verse ends
with it, in a different tense, and thus makes a sort of rhyme with this
verse. "The wilderness of mountains," too, is a singular designation,
either for the Sinaitic peninsula or for Egypt, or for the wilderness of
Judah, which have all been suggested as intended here. "The wilderness"
stands for the south, and thus three cardinal points are named. Why is
the north omitted? If "lifting up" means deliverance, the omission may
be due to the fact that Assyria (from which the danger came, if we adopt
the usual view of the occasion of the psalm) lay to the north. But the
meaning in the rest of the psalm is not _deliverance_, and the psalmist
is addressing the "foolish boasters" here and that consideration takes
away the force of such an explanation of the omission. Probably no
significance attaches to it. The general idea is simply that "lifting
up" does not come from any quarter of earth, but, as the next verse goes
on to say, solely from God. How absurd, then, is the self-sufficient
loftiness of godless men! How vain to look along the low levels of
earth, when all true elevation and dignity come from God! The very
purpose of His judicial energy is to abase the lofty and raise the low.
His hand lifts up, and there is no secure or lasting elevation but that
which He effects. His hand casts down, and that which attracts His
lightnings is "the haughtiness of man." The outburst of His judgment
works like a volcanic eruption, which flings up elevations in valleys
and shatters lofty peaks. The features of the country are changed after
it, and the world looks new. The metaphor of ver. 8, in which judgment
is represented as a cup of foaming wine, which God puts to the lips of
the nations, receives great expansion in the prophets, especially in
Jeremiah, and recurs in the Apocalypse. There is a grim contrast between
the images of festivity and hospitality called up by the picture of a
host presenting the wine cup to his guests, and the stern compulsion
which makes the "wicked" gulp down the nauseous draught held by God to
their reluctant lips. The utmost extremity of punitive inflictions,
unflinchingly inflicted, is suggested by the terrible imagery. And the
judgment is to be world-wide; for "all the wicked of the earth" are to
drink, and that to the dregs.

And how does the prospect affect the psalmist? It moves him, first,
to solemn praise--not only because God has proved Himself by these
terrible things in righteousness to be the God of His people, but
also because He has thereby manifested His own character as righteous
and hating evil. It is no selfish nor cruel joy which stirs in
devout hearts, when God comes forth in history and smites oppressing
insolence. It is but a spurious benevolence which affects to recoil
from the conception of a God who judges and, when needful, smites.
This psalmist not only praised, but in his degree vowed to imitate.

The last verse is best understood as his declaration of his own
purpose, though some commentators have proposed to transfer it to the
earlier part of the psalm, regarding it as part of the Divine oracle.
But it is in its right place where it stands. God's servants are His
instruments in carrying out His judgments; and there is a very real
sense in which all of them should seek to fight against dominant evil
and to <DW36> the power of tyrannous godlessness.




                              PSALM LXXVI.

   1  Known in Judah is God,
      In Israel is His name great.
   2  And in Salem was His tent [pitched],
      And His dwelling in Zion.
   3  There He shivered the lightnings of the bow,
      Shield and sword and battle. Selah.

   4  Effulgent art Thou [and] glorious
      From the mountains of prey [everlasting mountains?].
   5  Spoiled are the stout of heart, they slumber [into] their sleep,
      And none of the men of might have found their hands.
   6  At Thy rebuke, O God of Jacob,
      Both chariot and horse are sunk in deep sleep.

   7  Thou! dread art Thou,
      And who can stand before Thee, in the time of Thine anger?
   8  From heaven didst Thou make judgment heard,
      Earth feared and was stilled,
   9  At the rising of God for judgment
      To save all the afflicted of the earth. Selah.

  10  For the wrath of man shall praise Thee,
      [With] the residue of wraths Thou girdest Thyself.
  11  Vow and pay to Jehovah your God,
      Let all around Him bring presents to the Terrible One.
  12  He cuts down the [lofty] spirit of princes,
      A dread to the kings of the earth.


In contents and tone this psalm is connected with Psalms xlvi. and
xlviii. No known event corresponds so closely with its allusions
as the destruction of Sennacherib's army, to which the LXX. in
its superscription refers it. The singer is absorbed in the one
tremendous judgment which had delivered the dwelling-place of Jehovah.
His song has but one theme--God's forth-flashing of judgment on Zion's
foes. One note of thankfulness sounds at the close, but till then all
is awe. The psalm is divided into four strophes, of three verses each.
The former two describe the act; the latter two deal with its results,
in an awed world and thankful praise.

The emphatic words in the first strophe are those which designate
the scene of the Divine act. The glow of humble pride, of wonder and
thankfulness, is perceptible in the fourfold reiteration--"in Judah,
in Israel, in Salem, in Zion"; all which names are gathered up in
the eloquent "There" of ver. 3. The true point of view from which to
regard God's acts is that they are His Self-revelation. The reason
why Israel is the object of the acts which manifest His name is that
there He has chosen to dwell. And, since He dwells there, the special
act of judgment which the psalm celebrates was there performed. "The
lightnings of the bow" picturesquely designate arrows, from their
swift flight and deadly impact. (Compare Psalm xlvi. 9.)

The second strophe (vv. 4-6) comes closer to the fact celebrated, and
describes, with magnificent sweep, brevity, and vividness, the death
sleep of the enemy. But, before it shows the silent corpses, it lifts
one exclamation of reverence to the God who has thus manifested His
power. The word rendered "Effulgent" is doubtful, and by a slight
transposition of letters becomes, as in ver. 7 which begins the next
strophe, "dread." In ver. 4 _b_ the rendering "more excellent than,"
etc., yields a comparison which can scarcely be called worthy. It
is little to say of God that He is more glorious than the enemies'
"mountains of prey," though Delitzsch tries to recommend this
rendering, by supposing that God is represented as towering above "the
Lebanon of the hostile army of peoples." The Hebrew idiom expresses
comparison by the preposition _from_ appended to the adjective in
its simple form, and it is best here to take the construction as
indicating point of departure rather than comparison. God comes forth
as "glorious," from the lofty heights where He sits supreme. But
"mountains of prey" is a singular phrase, which can only be explained
by the supposition that God is conceived of as a Conqueror, who has
laid up His spoils in His inaccessible store-house on high. But the
LXX. translates "_everlasting_ mountains," which fits the context
well, and implies a text, which might easily be misinterpreted as
meaning "prey," which misinterpretation may afterwards have crept into
the body of the text. If this alteration is not adopted, the meaning
will be as just stated.

Ver. 5 gives some support to the existing text, by its representation
of the stout-hearted foe as "spoiled." They are robbed of their might,
their weapons, and their life. How graphically the psalmist sets
before the eyes of his readers the process of destruction from its
beginning! He shows us the warriors falling asleep in the drowsiness
of death. How feeble their "might" now! One vain struggle, as in the
throes of death, and the hands which shot the "lightnings of the bow"
against Zion are stiff for evermore. One word from the sovereign
lips of the God of Jacob, and all the noise of the camp is hushed,
and we look out upon a field of the dead, lying in awful stillness,
dreamlessly sleeping their long slumber.

The third strophe passes from description of the destruction of the
enemy to paint its widespread results in the manifestation to a
hushed world of God's judgment. In it anger and love are wondrously
blended; and while no creature can bear the terrible blaze of His
face, nor endure the weight of His onset "in the time of His anger,"
the most awful manifestations thereof have a side of tenderness and
an inner purpose of blessing. The core of judgment is mercy. It is
worthy of God to smite the oppressor and to save the "afflicted," who
not only suffer, but trust. When He makes His judgments reverberate
from on high, earth should keep an awed stillness, as nature does when
thunder peals. When some gigantic and hoary iniquity crashes to its
fall, there is a moment of awed silence after the hideous tumult.

The last strophe is mainly a summons to praise God for His manifestation
of delivering judgment. Ver. 10 is obscure. The first clause is
intelligible enough. Since God magnifies His name by His treatment of
opposing men, who set themselves against Him, their very foaming fury
subserves His praise. That is a familiar thought with all the Scripture
writers who meditate on God's dealings. But the second clause is
hard. Whose "wraths" are spoken of in it? God's or man's? The change
from the singular ("wrath of man") to plural ("wraths") in _b_ makes
it all but certain that God's fulness of "wrath" is meant here. It
is set over against the finite and puny "wrath" of men, as an ocean
might be contrasted with a shallow pond. If so, God's girding Himself
with the residue of His own wrath will mean that, after every such
forth-putting of it as the psalm has been hymning, there still remains
an unexhausted store ready to flame out if need arise. It is a stern and
terrible thought of God, but it is solemnly true. His loving-kindness
out-measures man's, and so does His judicial judgment. All Divine
attributes partake of Infinitude, and the stores of His punitive anger
are not less deep than those of His gentle goodness.

Therefore men are summoned to vow and pay their vows; and while Israel
is called to worship, the nations around, who have seen that field of
the dead, are called to do homage and bring tribute to Him who, as
it so solemnly shows, can cut off the breath of the highest, or can
cut down their pride, as a grape-gatherer does the ripe cluster (for
such is the allusion in the word "cuts down"). The last clause of the
psalm, which stands somewhat disconnected from the preceding, gathers
up the lessons of the tremendous event which inspired it, when it sets
Him forth as to be feared by the kings of the earth.




                             PSALM LXXVII.

   1  [I would lift] my voice to God and cry;
      [I would lift] my voice to God, that He may give ear to me.
   2  In the day of my straits I sought the Lord:
      My hand was stretched out in the night without ceasing;
      My soul refused to be comforted.
   3  [When] I remember God, I must sigh;
      [When] I muse, my spirit is covered [with gloom]. Selah.

   4  Thou hast held open the guards of my eyes:
      I am buffeted, and cannot speak.
   5  I considered the days of old,
      The years of ancient times.
   6  I would remember my song in the night:
      In my heart I would muse,--and my spirit made anxious search.

   7  Will the Lord cast off for ever?
      And will He continue no more to be favourable?
   8  Is His loving-kindness ended for ever?
      Has His promise failed for all generations?
   9  Has God forgotten to be gracious?
      Or has He in anger drawn in His compassions? Selah.

  10  Then I said, It is my sickness;
      [But I will remember] the years of the right hand of the Most
                High.
  11  I will celebrate the deeds of Jah;
      For I will remember Thy wonders of old.
  12  And I will meditate on all Thy work,
      And will muse on Thy doings.

  13  O God, in holiness is Thy way:
      Who is a great God like God?
  14  Thou, Thou art the God who doest wonders:
      Thou hast made known among the peoples Thy strength.
  15  Thou hast redeemed with Thine arm Thy people,
      The sons of Jacob and Joseph. Selah.

  16  The waters saw Thee, O God;
      The waters saw Thee, they writhed in pangs:
      Yea, the abysses trembled.
  17  The clouds were poured out [in] water;
      The skies gave [forth] a voice:
      Yea, Thine arrows went to and fro.
  18  The voice of Thy thunder was in [Thy] chariot wheel;
      Lightnings illumined the world:
      The earth trembled and shook.
  19  In the sea was Thy way,
      And Thy paths in great waters,
      And Thy footprints were not known.
  20  Thou leadest Thy people like sheep,
      By the hand of Moses and Aaron.


The occasion of the profound sadness of the first part of this psalm
may be inferred from the thoughts which brighten it into hope in the
second. These were the memories of past national deliverance. It is
natural to suppose that present national disasters were the causes
of the sorrow which enveloped the psalmist's spirit and suggested
questions of despair, only saved from being blasphemous because
they were so wistful. But it by no means follows that the singer is
simply the personified nation. The piercing tone of individual grief
is too clear, especially in the introductory verses, to allow of
that hypothesis. Rather, the psalmist has taken into his heart the
troubles of his people. Public calamity has become personal pain.
What dark epoch has left its marks in this psalm remains uncertain.
If Delitzsch's contention that Habakkuk iii. is in part drawn from
it were indubitably established, the attribution of the psalm to the
times of Josiah would be plausible; but there is, at least, room for
doubt whether there has been borrowing, and if so, which is original
and which echo. The calamities of the Exile in their severity and
duration would give reasonable ground for the psalmist's doubts
whether God had not cast off His people for ever. No brief or partial
eclipse of His favour would supply adequate occasion for these.

The psalm falls into two parts, in the former of which (vv. 1-9) deepest
gloom wraps the singer's spirit, while in the latter (vv. 10-20) the
clouds break. Each of these parts falls into three strophes, usually of
three verses; but in the concluding strophe, consisting of five, Selah
stands at the end of the first and third, and is not present at the end
of the second, because it is more closely connected with the third than
with the first. In like manner the first strophe of the second part (vv.
10-12) has no Selah, but the second has (vv. 13-15); the closing strophe
(vv. 16-20) being thus parted off.

The psalmist's agitation colours his language, which fluctuates in the
first six verses between expressions of resolve or desire (vv. 1, 3,
6) and simple statement of fact (vv. 2, 4, 5). He has prayed long and
earnestly, and nothing has been laid in answer on his outstretched
palm. Therefore his cry has died down into a sigh. He fain would lift
his voice to God, but dark thoughts make him dumb for supplication,
and eloquent only in self-pitying monologue. A man must have waded
through like depths to understand this pathetic bewilderment of
spirit. They who glide smoothly over a sunlit surface of sea little
know the terrors of sinking, with choked lungs, into the abyss. A
little experience will go further than much learning in penetrating
the meaning of these moanings of lamed faith. They begin with an
elliptical phrase, which, in its fragmentary character, reveals the
psalmist's discomposure. "My voice to God" evidently needs some such
completion as is supplied above; and the form of the following verb
("cry") suggests that the supplied one should express wish or effort.
The repetition of the phrase in 1 _b_ strengthens the impression of
agitation. The last words of that clause may be a petition, "give
ear," but are probably better taken as above. The psalmist would fain
cry to God, that he may be heard. He has cried, as he goes on to
tell in calmer mood in ver. 2, and has apparently not been heard. He
describes his unintermitted supplications by a strong metaphor. The
word rendered "stretched out" is literally _poured out_ as water, and
is applied to weeping eyes (Lam. iii. 49). The Targum substitutes eye
for hand here, but that is commentary, not translation. The clause
which we render "without ceasing" is literally "and grew not stiff."
That word, too, is used of tears, and derivatives from it are found in
the passage just referred to in Lamentations ("intermission"), and in
Lam. ii. 18 ("rest"). It carries on the metaphor of a stream, the flow
of which is unchecked. The application of this metaphor to the hand
is harsh, but the meaning is plain--that all night long the psalmist
extended his hand in the attitude of prayer, as if open to receive
God's gift. His voice "rose like a fountain night and day"; but
brought no comfort to his soul; and he bewails himself, in the words
which tell of Jacob's despair when he heard that Joseph was dead. _So_
rooted and inconsolable does he think his sorrows. The thought of
God has changed its nature, as if the sun were to become a source of
darkness. When he looks up, he can only sigh; when he looks within,
his spirit is clothed or veiled--_i.e._, wrapped in melancholy.

In the next strophe of three verses (vv. 4-6) the psalmist plunges
yet deeper into gloom, and unfolds more clearly its occasion. Sorrow,
like a beast of prey, devours at night; and every sad heart knows how
eyelids, however wearied, refuse to close upon as wearied eyes, which
gaze wide opened into the blackness and see dreadful things there.
This man felt as if God's finger was pushing up his lids and forcing
him to stare out into the night. Buffeted, as if laid on an anvil and
battered with the shocks of doom, he cannot speak; he can only moan,
as he is doing. Prayer seems to be impossible. But to say, "I cannot
pray; would that I could!" is surely prayer, which will reach its
destination, though the sender knows it not. The psalmist had found no
ease in remembering God. He finds as little in remembering a brighter
past. That he should have turned to history in seeking for consolation
implies that his affliction was national in its sweep, however
intensely personal in its pressure. This retrospective meditation
on the great deeds of old is characteristic of the Asaph psalms. It
ministers in them to many moods, as memory always does. In this psalm
we have it feeding two directly opposite emotions. It may be the nurse
of bitter Despair, or of bright-eyed Hope. When the thought of God
occasions but sighs, the remembrance of His acts can only make the
present more doleful. The heavy spirit finds reasons for heaviness
in God's past and in its own. The psalmist in his sleepless vigils
remembers other wakeful times, when his song filled the night with
music and "awoke the dawn." Ver. 6 is parallel with ver. 3. The three
key-words, _remember_, _muse_, _spirit_, recur. There, musing ended
in wrapping the spirit in deeper gloom. Here, it stings that spirit
to activity in questionings, which the next strophe flings out in
vehement number and startling plainness. It is better to be pricked
to even such interrogations by affliction than to be made torpid by
it. All depends on the temper in which they are asked. If that is
right, answers which will scatter gloom are not far off.

The comparison of present national evils with former happiness naturally
suggests such questions. Obviously, the casting off spoken of in ver.
7 is that of the nation, and hence its mention confirms the view that
the psalmist is suffering under public calamities. All the questions
mean substantially one thing--has God changed? They are not, as some
questions are, the strongest mode of asserting their negative; nor are
they, like others, a more than half assertion of their affirmative;
but they are what they purport to be--the anxious interrogations of an
afflicted man, who would fain be sure that God is the same as ever,
but is staggered by the dismal contrast of Now and Then. He faces with
trembling the terrible possibilities, and, however his language may seem
to regard failure of resources or fickleness of purpose or limitations
in long-suffering as conceivable in God, his doubts are better put into
plain speech than lying diffused and darkening, like poisonous mists, in
his heart. A thought, be it good or bad, can be dealt with when it is
made articulate. Formulating vague conceptions is like cutting a channel
in a bog for the water to run. One gets it together in manageable shape,
and the soil is drained. So the end of the despondent half of the psalm
is marked by the bringing to distinct speech of the suspicions which
floated in the singer's mind and made him miserable. The Selah bids
us dwell on the questions, so as to realise their gravity and prepare
ourselves for their answer.

The second part begins in ver. 10 with an obscure and
much-commented-on verse, of which two explanations are possible,
depending mainly on the meanings of the two words "sickness" and
"years." The former word may mean "my wounding" or "my sickness." The
latter is by many commentators taken to be an infinitive verb, with
the signification _to be changed_, and by others to be a plural noun
meaning "_years_," as in ver. 6. Neglecting some minor differences,
we may say that those who understand the word to mean _being changed_
explain the whole thus: "This is my wound (misery, sorrow), that the
right hand of the Most High has changed." So the old versions, and
Hupfeld, Perowne, and Baethgen. But the use of the word in ver. 6 for
"years" creates a strong presumption that its sense is the same here.
As to the other word, its force is best seen by reference to a closely
parallel passage in Jer. x. 19--"I said, Truly this is my grief
(margin, _sickness_), and I must bear it"; where the word for _grief_,
though not the same as in the psalm, is cognate. The most probable
meaning, then, for the expression here is, "This my affliction is
sent from God, and I must bear it with resignation." Then follows an
elevating thought expressed in its simplest form like an exclamation,
"_the years_," etc.--_i.e.,_, "I will remember (comp. ver. 6) the
time when the right hand of Jehovah had the pre-eminence" (Cheyne,
_in loc._). Delitzsch leaves the ellipsis unfilled, and takes the
whole to mean that the psalmist says to himself that the affliction
allotted will only last for the time which the mighty hand of God
has determined. The rendering adopted above avoids the awkwardness
of using the same word in two different senses in the same context,
yields an appropriate meaning, especially in view of the continual
references to remembering, and begins the new strophe with a new note
of hopefulness, whereas the other renderings prolong the minor key of
the first part into the second. It is therefore to be preferred. The
revolution in feeling is abrupt. All is sunny and bright in the last
half. What makes the change? The recognition of two great truths:
first, that the calamity is laid on Israel, and on the psalmist as
a member of the nation, by God, and has not come because of that
impossible change in Him which the bitter questions had suggested;
and, second, the unchangeable eternity of God's delivering power. That
second truth comes to him as with a flash, and the broken words of
ver. 10 _b_ hail the sudden rising of the new star.

The remainder of the psalm holds fast by that thought of the great
deeds of God in the past. It is a signal example of how the same facts
remembered may depress or gladden, according to the point of view from
which they are regarded. We can elect whether memory shall nourish
despondency or gladness. Yet the alternative is not altogether a matter
of choice; for the only people to whom "remembering happier things" need
not be "a sorrow's crown of sorrow" are those who see God in the past,
and so are sure that every joy that was and is not shall yet again be,
in more thrilling and lasting form. If He shines out on us from the
east that we have left behind, His brightness will paint the western
sky towards which we travel. Beneath confidence in the perpetuity of
past blessings lies confidence in the eternity of God. The "years of the
right hand of the Most High" answer all questions as to His change of
purpose or of disposition, and supply the only firm foundation for calm
assurance of the future. Memory supplies the colours with which Hope
paints her truest pictures. "That which hath been is that which shall
be" may be the utterance of the _blase_ man of the world, or of the
devout man who trusts in the living God, and therefore knows that

          "There shall never be one lost good!
              What was shall live as before."

The strophe in vv. 13-15 fixes on the one great redeeming act of the
Exodus as the pledge of future deeds of a like kind, as need requires.
The language is deeply tinged with reminiscences of Exod. xv. "In
holiness" (not "in the sanctuary"), the question "Who is so great a
God?" the epithet "Who doest wonders," all come from Exod. xv. 11.
"[Thine] arm" in the psalm recalls "By the greatness of Thine arm" in
Exodus (ver. 16), and the psalmist's "redeemed Thy people" reproduces
"the people which Thou hast redeemed" (Exod. xv. 13). The separate
mention of "sons of Joseph" can scarcely be accounted for, if the
psalm is prior to the division of the kingdoms. But the purpose of the
designation is doubtful. It may express the psalmist's protest against
the division as a breach of ancient national unity or his longings for
reunion.

The final strophe differs from the others in structure. It contains
five verses instead of three, and the verses are (with the exception
of the last) composed of three clauses each instead of two. Some
commentators have supposed that vv. 16-19 are an addition to the
original psalm, and think that they do not cohere well with the
preceding. This view denies that there is any allusion in the closing
verses to the passage of the Red Sea, and takes the whole as simply a
description of a theophany, like that in Psalm xviii. But surely the
writhing of the waters as if in pangs at the sight of God is such an
allusion. Ver. 19, too, is best understood as referring to the path
through the sea, whose waters returned and covered God's footprints
from human eyes. Unless there is such a reference in vv. 16-19, the
connection with the preceding and with ver. 20 is no doubt loose. But
that is not so much a reason for denying the right of these verses
to a place in the psalm as for recognising the reference. Why should
a mere description of a theophany, which had nothing to do with the
psalmist's theme, have been tacked on to it? No doubt, the thunders,
lightnings, and storm so grandly described here are unmentioned in
Exodus; and, quite possibly, may be simply poetic heightening of the
scene, intended to suggest how majestic was the intervention which
freed Israel. Some commentators, indeed, have claimed the picture
as giving additional facts concerning the passage of the Red Sea.
Dean Stanley, for example, has worked these points into his vivid
description; but that carries literalism too far.

The picture in the psalm is most striking. The continuous short
clauses crash and flash like the thunders and lightnings. That
energetic metaphor of the waters writhing as if panic-struck is more
violent than Western taste approves, but its emotional vigour as a
rendering of the fact is unmistakable. "Thine arrows went to and fro"
is a very imperfect transcript of the Hebrew, which suggests the
swift zigzag of the fierce flashes. In ver. 18 the last word offers
some difficulty. It literally means _a wheel_, and is apparently
best rendered as above, the thunder being poetically conceived of as
the sound of the rolling wheels of God's chariot. There are several
coincidences between vv. 16-19 of the psalm and Hab. iii. 10-15:
namely, the expression "writhed in pain," applied in Habakkuk to
the mountains; the word rendered "overflowing" (A.V.) or "tempest"
(R.V.) in Hab. v. 10, cognate with the verb in ver. 17 of the psalm,
and there rendered "poured out"; the designation of lightnings as
God's arrows. Delitzsch strongly maintains the priority of the psalm;
Hupfeld as strongly that of the prophet.

The last verse returns to the two-claused structure of the earlier part.
It comes in lovely contrast with the majestic and terrible picture
preceding, like the wonderful setting forth of the purpose of the other
theophany in Psalm xviii., which was for no higher end than to draw one
poor man from the mighty waters. All this pomp of Divine appearance,
with lightnings, thunders, a heaving earth, a shrinking sea, had for its
end the leading the people of God to their land, as a shepherd does his
flock. The image is again an echo of Exod. xv. 13. The thing intended is
not merely the passage of the Red Sea, but the whole process of guidance
begun there amid the darkness. Such a close is too abrupt to please
some commentators. But what more was needful or possible to be said, in
a retrospect of God's past acts, for the solace of a dark present? It
was more than enough to scatter fears and flash radiance into the gloom
which had wrapped the psalmist. He need search no further. He has found
what he sought; and so he hushes his song, and gazes in silence on the
all-sufficient answer which memory has brought to all his questions and
doubts. Nothing could more completely express the living, ever-present
worth of the ancient deeds of God than the "abruptness" with which this
psalm ceases rather than ends.




                             PSALM LXXVIII.

   1  Give ear, my people, to my law,
      Bow your ear to the sayings of my mouth.
   2  I will open my mouth in a parable,
      I will utter riddles from the ancient days,
   3  What we have heard and known
      And our fathers have told us,
   4  We will not hide from their sons,
      Recounting to the generation to come the praises of Jehovah,
      And His might and the wonders that He has done.

   5  For He established a testimony in Jacob,
      And appointed a law in Israel,
      Which He commanded our fathers
      To make known to their children;
   6  In order that the generation to come might know,
      The children who should be born,
      [Who] should rise up and tell to their children,
   7  That they might place their confidence in God,
      And not forget the deeds of God,
      But keep His commandments;
   8  And not be as their fathers,
      A stubborn and rebellious generation,
      A generation that did not make its heart steadfast,
      And whose spirit was not faithful towards God.

   9  The children of Ephraim, bearing [and] drawing bows,
      Turned back in the day of onset.
  10  They kept not the covenant of God,
      And in His law they refused to walk,
  11  And they forgot His doings,
      And the wonders which He had showed them.
  12  Before their fathers He did marvels,
      In the land of Egypt, in the field of Zoan.
  13  He cleft the sea and let them pass through,
      And He reared up the waters like a heap of corn,
  14  And He guided them in a cloud by day
      And all night in a fiery light.
  15  He cleft rocks in the wilderness,
      And gave them drink abundantly, as [from] ocean depths.
  16  And He brought forth streams from the cliff,
      And made waters to flow down like rivers.

  17  But they went on to sin yet more against Him,
      To rebel against the Most High in the desert.
  18  And they tempted God in their heart,
      In asking meat after their desire.
  19  And they spoke against God, they said,
      "Is God able to spread a table in the wilderness?
  20  Behold, He struck a rock, and waters gushed forth,
      And torrents flowed out.
      Is He able to give bread also?
      Or will He prepare flesh for His people?"

  21  Jehovah heard and was wroth,
      And a fire was kindled in Jacob,
      And wrath also went up against Israel.
  22  For they did not believe in God,
      And trusted not in His salvation.
  23  And He commanded the clouds above,
      And opened the doors of heaven,
  24  And rained upon them manna to eat,
      And gave them the corn of heaven.
  25  Men did eat the bread of the Mighty Ones;
      He sent them sustenance to the full.

  26  He made the east wind go forth in the heavens,
      And guided the south wind by His power;
  27  And He rained flesh upon them like dust,
      And winged fowls like the sand of the seas,
  28  And let it fall in the midst of their camp,
      Round about their habitations.
  29  So they ate and were surfeited,
      And their desires He brought to them.

  30  They were not estranged from their desires
      Their food was yet in their mouths.
  31  And the wrath of God rose against them,
      And slew the fattest of them,
      And struck down the young men of Israel.
  32  For all this they sinned yet more,
      And believed not in His wonders.
  33  So He made their days to vanish like a breath,
      And their years in suddenness.

  34  When He slew them, then they inquired after Him,
      And returned and sought God earnestly.
  35  And they remembered that God was their rock,
      And God Most High their redeemer.
  36  And they flattered Him with their mouth,
      And with their tongue they lied to Him,
  37  And their heart was not steadfast with Him,
      And they were not faithful to His covenant.

  38  But He is compassionate, covers iniquity, and destroys not;
      Yea, many a time He takes back His anger,
      And rouses not all His wrath.
  39  So He remembered that they were [but] flesh,
      A wind that goes and comes not again.

  40  How often did they provoke Him in the wilderness,
      Did they grieve Him in the desert!
  41  Yea, again and again they tempted God,
      And the Holy One of Israel they vexed.
  42  They remembered not His hand,
      The day when He set them free from the adversary,
  43  When He set forth His signs in Egypt,
      And His wonders in the field of Zoan.
  44  And He turned to blood their Nile streams,
      And their streams they could not drink.

  45  He sent amongst them flies that devoured them,
      And frogs that destroyed them.
  46  And He gave their increase to the caterpillar,
      And their toil to the locust.
  47  He killed their vines with hail,
      And their sycamores with frost. [?]
  48  And He gave their cattle up to the hail,
      And their flocks to the lightnings.

  49  He sent against them the heat of His anger,
      Wrath and indignation and trouble,
      A mission of angels of evil.
  50  He levelled a path for His anger,
      He spared not their souls from death,
      But delivered over their life to the pestilence.
  51  And He smote all the first-born of Egypt,
      The firstlings of [their] strength in the tents of Ham.

  52  And He made His people go forth like sheep,
      And guided them like a flock in the desert.
  53  And He led them safely, that they did not fear,
      And the sea covered their enemies.
  54  And He brought them to His holy border,
      This mountain, which His right hand had won.
  55  And He drove out the nations before them,
      And allotted them by line as an inheritance,
      And made the tribes of Israel to dwell in their tents.

  56  But they tempted and provoked God Most High,
      And His testimonies they did not keep.
  57  And they turned back and were faithless like their fathers,
      They were turned aside like a deceitful bow;
  58  And they provoked Him to anger with their high places,
      And with their graven images they moved Him to jealousy.
  59  God heard and was wroth,
      And loathed Israel exceedingly.

  60  So that He rejected the habitation of Shiloh,
      The tent [which] He had pitched among men.
  61  And He gave His strength to captivity,
      And His beauty into the hand of the adversary.
  62  And He delivered His people to the sword,
      And against His inheritance He was wroth.
  63  Their young men the fire devoured,
      And their maidens were not praised in the marriage-song.
  64  Their priests fell by the sword,
      And their widows made no lamentation.

  65  Then the Lord awoke as one that had slept,
      Like a warrior shouting because of wine.
  66  And He beat His adversaries back,
      He put on them a perpetual reproach.
  67  And He loathed the tent of Joseph,
      And the tribe of Ephraim He did not choose.
  68  But He chose the tribe of Judah,
      Mount Zion, which He loved.

  69  And He built His sanctuary like [heavenly] heights,
      Like the earth which He has founded for ever.
  70  And He chose David His servant,
      And took him from the sheepfolds;
  71  From following the ewes that give suck, He brought him
      To feed Jacob His people,
      And Israel His inheritance.
  72  So he fed them according to the integrity of his heart,
      And with the skilfulness of his hands he guided them.


This psalm is closely related to Psalms cv.-cvii.

Like them, it treats the history of Israel, and especially the Exodus
and wilderness wanderings, for purposes of edification, rebuke,
and encouragement. The past is held up as a mirror to the present
generation. It has been one long succession of miracles of mercy met
by equally continuous ingratitude, which has ever been punished by
national calamities. The psalm departs singularly from chronological
order. It arranges its contents in two principal masses, each
introduced by the same formula (vv. 12, 43) referring to "wonders in
Egypt and the field of Zoan." But the first mass has nothing to do
with Egypt, but begins with the passage of the Red Sea, and is wholly
occupied with the wilderness. The second group of wonders begins in
ver. 44 with the plagues of Egypt, touches lightly on the wilderness
history, and then passes to the early history of Israel when settled
in the land, and finishes with the establishment of David on the
throne. It is difficult to account for this singular _bouleversement_
of the history. But the conjecture may be hazarded that its reason
lies in the better illustration of continual interlacing of mercy
and unthankfulness afforded by the events in the wilderness, than by
the plagues of Egypt. That interlacing is the main point on which
the psalmist wishes to lay stress, and therefore he begins with the
most striking example of it. The use of the formula in ver. 12 looks
as if his original intention had been to follow the order of time.
Another peculiarity is the prominence given to Ephraim, both in ver.
9 as a type of faithlessness, and in ver. 67 as rejected in favour of
Judah. These references naturally point to the date of the psalm as
being subsequent to the separation of the kingdoms; but whether it is
meant as rebuke to the northern kingdom, or as warning to Judah from
the fate of Ephraim, is not clear. Nor are there materials for closer
determination of date. The tone of the closing reference to David
implies that his accession belongs to somewhat remote times.

There are no regular strophes, but a tendency to run into paragraphs
of four verses, with occasional irregularities.

Vv. 1-4 declare the singer's didactic purpose. He deeply feels the
solidarity of the nation through all generations--how fathers and
children are knit by mystic ties, and by possession of an eternal
treasure, the mighty deeds of God, of which they are bound to pass on
the record from age to age. The history of ancient days is "a parable"
and a "riddle" or "dark saying," as containing examples of great
principles, and lessons which need reflection to discern and draw out.
From that point of view, the psalmist will sum up the past. He is not
a chronicler, but a religious teacher. His purpose is edification,
rebuke, encouragement, the deepening of godly fear and obedience. In a
word, he means to give the spirit of the nation's history.

Vv. 5-8 base this purpose on God's declared will that the knowledge of
His deeds for Israel might be handed down from fathers to sons. The
obligations of parents for the religious training of their children,
the true bond of family unity, the ancient order of things when oral
tradition was the principal means of preserving national history,
the peculiarity of this nation's annals, as celebrating no heroes
and recording only the deeds of God by men, the contrast between the
changing bearers of the story and the undying deeds which they had
to tell, are all expressed in these verses, so pathetic in their
gaze upon the linked series of short-lived men, so stern in their
final declaration that Divine commandment and mercy had been in
vain, and that, instead of a tradition of goodness, there had been
a transmission of stubbornness and departure from God, repeating
itself with tragic uniformity. The devout poet, who knows what God
meant family life to be and to do, sadly recognises the grim contrast
presented by its reality. But yet he will make one more attempt to
break the flow of evil from father to son. Perhaps his contemporaries
will listen and shake themselves clear of this entail of disobedience.

The reference to Ephraim in vv. 9-11 is not to be taken as alluding
to any cowardly retreat from actual battle. Ver. 9 seems to be a
purely figurative way of expressing what is put without a metaphor in
the two following verses. Ephraim's revolt from God's covenant was
like the conduct of soldiers, well armed and refusing to charge the
foe. The better their weapons, the greater the cowardice and ignominy
of the recreants. So the faithlessness of Ephraim was made darker
in criminality by its knowledge of God and experience of His mercy.
These should have knit the tribe to Him. A general truth of wide
application is implied--that the measure of capacity is the measure of
obligation. Guilt increases with endowment, if the latter is misused.
A poor soldier, with no weapon but a sling or a stick, might sooner be
excused for flight than a fully armed archer. The mention of Ephraim
as prominent in faithlessness may be an allusion to the separation
of the kingdoms. That allusion has been denied on the ground that it
is the wilderness history which is here before the psalmist's mind.
But the historical retrospect does not begin till ver. 12, and this
introduction may well deal with an event later than those detailed in
the following verses. Whether the revolt of the Ten Tribes is here in
view or not, the psalmist sees that the wayward and powerful tribe of
Ephraim had been a centre of religious disaffection, and there is no
reason why his view should not be believed, or should be supposed to
be due to mere prejudiced hostility.

The historical details begin with ver. 12, but, as has been noticed
above, the psalmist seems to change his intention of first narrating
the wonders in Egypt, and passes on to dilate on the wilderness
history. "The field of Zoan" is the territory of the famous Egyptian
city of Tzan, and seems equivalent to the Land of Goshen. The wonders
enumerated are the familiar ones of the passage of the Red Sea, the
guidance by the pillar of cloud and fire, and the miraculous supply of
water from the rock. In vv. 15, 16, the poet brings together the two
instances of such supply, which were separated from each other by the
forty years of wandering, the first having occurred at Horeb in the
first year, and the second at Kadesh in the last year. The two words
"rocks," in ver. 15, and "cliff," in ver. 16, are taken from the two
narratives of these miracles, in Exod. xvii. and Numb. xx.

The group of four verses (13-16) sets forth God's mighty deeds; the next
quartet of verses (17-20) tells of Israel's requital. It is significant
of the thoughts which filled the singer's heart, that he begins the
latter group with declaring that, notwithstanding such tokens of God's
care, the people "went on to sin yet more," though he had specified no
previous acts of sin. He combines widely separated instances of their
murmurings, as he had combined distant instances of God's miraculous
supply of water. The complaints which preceded the fall of the manna
and the first supply of quails (Exod. xvi.), and those which led to
the second giving of these (Numb. xi.) are thrown together, as one in
kind. The speech put into the mouths of the murmurers in vv. 19, 20, is
a poetic casting into bitter, blasphemous words of the half-conscious
thoughts of the faithless, sensuous crowd. They are represented as
almost upbraiding God with His miracle, as quite unmoved to trust by
it, and as thinking that it has exhausted His power. When they were
half dead with thirst, they thought much of the water, but now they
depreciate that past wonder as a comparatively small thing. So, to the
churlish heart, which cherishes eager desires after some unattained
earthly good, past blessings diminish as they recede, and leave neither
thankfulness nor trust. There is a dash of intense bitterness and
ironical making light of their relation to God in their question,
"Can He provide flesh for _His people_?" Much good that name has done
us, starving here! The root of all this blasphemous talk was sensuous
desire; and because the people yielded to it, they "tempted God"--that
is, they "unbelievingly and defiantly demanded, instead of trustfully
waiting and praying" (Delitzsch). To ask food for their desires was sin;
to ask it for their need would have been faith.

In ver. 21 the allusion is to the "fire of the Lord," which, according
to Numb. xi. 3, burnt in the camp, just before the second giving of
quails. It comes in here out of chronological order, for the sending
of manna follows it; but the psalmist's didactic purpose renders him
indifferent to chronology. The manna is called "corn of heaven" and
"bread of the Mighty Ones"--_i.e._, angels, as the LXX. renders the
word. Both designations point to its heavenly origin, without its
being necessary to suppose that the poet thought of angels as really
eating it. The description of the fall of the quails (vv. 26-29) is
touched with imaginative beauty. The word rendered above "made to go
forth" is originally applied to the breaking up an encampment, and
that rendered "guided" to a shepherd's leading of his flock. Both
words are found in the Pentateuch, the former in reference to the wind
that brought the quails (Numb. xi. 31), the latter in reference to
that which brought the plague of locusts (Exod. x. 13). So the winds
are conceived of as God's servants, issuing from their tents at His
command, and guided by Him as a shepherd leads his sheep. "He let it
fall in the midst of their camp" graphically describes the dropping
down of the wearied, storm-beaten birds.

Vv. 30-33 paint the swift punishment of the people's unbelief, in
language almost identical with Numb. xi. 33. The psalmist twice
stigmatises their sin as "lust," and uses the word which enters
into the tragical name given to the scene of the sin and the
punishment--Kibroth-Hat _taavah_ (the graves of Lust). In vv. 32, 33,
the faint-hearted despondency after the return of the spies, and the
punishment of it by the sentence of death on all that generation, seem
to be alluded to.

The next group of four verses describes the people's superficial and
transient repentance, "When He slew them they sought Him"--_i.e._,
when the fiery serpents were sent among them. But such seeking after
God, which is properly not seeking Him at all, but only seeking to
escape from evil, neither goes deep nor lasts long. Thus the end of it
was only lip reverence, proved to be false by life, and soon ended.
"Their heart was not steadfast." The pressure being removed, they
returned to their habitual position, as all such penitents do.

From the midst of this sad narrative of faithlessness, springs up,
like a fountain in a weary land, or a flower among half-cooled lava
blocks, the lovely description of God's forbearance in vv. 38, 39.
It must not be read as if it merely carried on the narrative, and
was in continuation of the preceding clauses. The psalmist does not
say "He _was_ full of compassion," though that would be much, in
the circumstances; but he is declaring God's eternal character. His
compassions are unfailing. It is always His wont to cover sin and to
spare. Therefore He exercised these gracious forbearances towards
those obstinate transgressors. He was true to His own compassion in
remembering their mortality and feebleness. What a melancholy sound,
as of wind blowing among forgotten graves, has that summing up of
human life as "a breath that goes and comes not again"!

With ver. 40 the second portion of the psalm may be regarded as
beginning. The first group of historical details dealt first with
God's mercies, and passed on to man's requital. The second starts
with man's ingratitude, which it paints in the darkest colours,
as provoking Him, grieving Him, tempting Him, and vexing Him. The
psalmist is not afraid to represent God as affected with such emotions
by reason of men's indifference and unbelief. His language is not to
be waved aside as anthropomorphic and antiquated. No doubt, we come
nearer to the unattainable truth, when we conceive of God as grieved
by men's sins and delighting in their trust, than when we think of Him
as an impassive Infinitude, serenely indifferent to tortured or sinful
hearts. For is not His name of names Love?

The psalmist traces Israel's sin to forgetfulness of God's mercy,
and thus glides into a swift summing up of the plagues of Egypt,
regarded as conducing to Israel's deliverance. They are not arranged
chronologically, though the list begins with the first. Then follow
three of those in which animals were the destroyers: namely, the
fourth, that of flies; the second, that of frogs; and the eighth,
that of locusts. Then comes the seventh, that of hail; and, according
to some commentators, the fifth, that of the murrain, in ver. 49,
followed by the tenth in ver. 51. But the grand, sombre imagery of
ver. 49 is too majestic for such application. It rather sums up the
whole series of plagues, likening them to an embassy (lit., a sending)
of angels of evil. They are a grim company to come forth from His
presence--Wrath, Indignation, and Trouble. The same power which sent
them out on their errand prepared a way before them; and the crowning
judgment, which, in the psalmist's view was also the crowning mercy,
was the death of the first-born.

The next quartet of verses (vv. 52-55) passes lightly over the
wilderness history and the settlement in the land, and hastens on to
a renewed narration of repeated rebellion, which occupies the next
group (vv. 56-59). These verses cover the period from the entrance on
Canaan to the fall of the sanctuary of Shiloh, during which there was
a continual tendency to relapse into idolatry. That is the special sin
here charged against the Israel of the time of the Judges. The figure
of a "deceitful bow," in ver. 57, well describes the people as failing
to fulfil the purpose of their choice by God. As such a weapon does
not shoot true, and makes the arrow fly wide, however well aimed and
strongly drawn, so Israel foiled all Divine attempts, and failed to
carry God's message to the world, or to fulfil His will in themselves.
Hence the next verses tell, with intense energy and pathos, the sad
story of Israel's humiliation under the Philistines. The language
is extraordinarily strong in its description of God's loathing and
rejection of the nation and sanctuary, and is instinct with sorrow,
blended with stern recognition of His righteousness in judgment. What
a tragic picture the psalmist draws! Shiloh, the dwelling-place of
God, empty for evermore; the "Glory"--that is, the Ark--in the enemy's
hands; everywhere stiffening corpses; a pall of silence over the land;
no brides and no joyous bridal chaunts; the very priests massacred,
unlamented by their widows, who had wept so many tears already that
the fountain of them was dried up, and even sorrowing love was dumb
with horror and despair!

The two last groups of verses paint God's great mercy in delivering
the nation from such misery. The daring figure of His awaking as from
sleep and dashing upon Israel's foes, who are also His, with a shout
like that of a hero stimulated by wine, is more accordant with Eastern
fervour than with our colder imagination; but it wonderfully expresses
the sudden transition from a period, during which God seemed passive
and careless of His people's wretchedness, to one in which His power
flashed forth triumphant for their defence. The prose fact is the long
series of victories over the Philistines and other oppressors, which
culminated in the restoration of the Ark, the selection of Zion as
its abode, which involved the rejection of Shiloh and consequently of
Ephraim (in whose territory Shiloh was), and the accession of David. The
Davidic kingdom is, in the psalmist's view, the final form of Israel's
national existence; and the sanctuary, like the kingdom, is perpetual as
the lofty heavens or the firm earth. Nor were his visions vain, for that
kingdom subsists and will subsist for ever, and the true sanctuary, the
dwelling-place of God among men, is still more closely intertwined with
the kingdom and its King than the psalmist knew. The perpetual duration
of both is, in truth, the greatest of God's mercies, outshining all
earlier deliverances; and they who truly have become the subjects of the
Christ, the King of Israel and of the world, and who dwell with God in
His house, by dwelling with Jesus, will not rebel against Him any more,
nor ever forget His wonders, but faithfully tell them to the generations
to come.




                              PSALM LXXIX.

   1  O God, [the] heathen have come into Thine inheritance,
      They have profaned Thy holy Temple,
      They have made Jerusalem heaps of stones.
   2  They have given the corpses of Thy servants [as] meat to the
                fowls of the heavens,
      The flesh of Thy favoured Ones to the beasts of the earth.
   3  They have poured out their blood like water round Jerusalem,
      And there was none to bury [them].
   4  We have become a reproach to our neighbours,
      A scoff and a scorn to those round us.

   5  How long, Jehovah, wilt Thou be angry for ever?
      [How long] shall Thy jealousy burn like fire?
   6  Pour out Thy wrath upon the heathen who know Thee not,
      And upon [the] kingdoms which call not upon Thy name.
   7  For they have eaten up Jacob,
      And his pasture have they laid waste.
   8  Remember not against us the iniquities of those before us,
      Speedily let Thy compassions [come to] meet us,
      For we are brought very low.

   9  Help us, O God, for the sake of the glory of Thy name,
      And deliver us, and cover over our sins for the sake of Thy name.
  10  Why should the heathen say, Where is their God?
      Let there be known among the heathen before our eyes
      The revenging of the blood of Thy servants which is poured out.
  11  Let there come before Thee the groaning of the captive,
      According to the greatness of Thine arm preserve the sons of
                death.
  12  And return to our neighbours sevenfold into their bosom
      Their reproach [with] which they have reproached Thee, O Lord.

  13  And we, we the people and the flock of Thy pasture,
      Will thank Thee for ever;
      To generation after generation will we recount Thy praise.


The same national agony which was the theme of Psalm lxxiv. forced
the sad strains of this psalm from the singer's heart. There, the
profanation of the Temple, and here, the destruction of the city, are
the more prominent. There, the dishonour to God; here, the distresses
of His people, are set forth. Consequently, confession of sin is
more appropriate here, and prayers for pardon blend with those for
deliverance. But the tone of both psalms is the same, and there are
similarities of expression which favour, though they do not demand,
the hypothesis that the author is the same. Such similarities are the
"how long" (lxxiv. 10 and lxxix. 5); the desecration of the Temple
(lxxiv. 3, 7, and lxxix. 1); the giving over to wild beasts (lxxiv.
19, and lxxix. 2); the reproach of God (lxxiv. 10, 18, 22, and lxxix.
12). The comparison of Israel to a flock is found in both psalms, but
in others of the Asaph group also.

The same remarks which were made as to the date of the former psalm
apply in this case. Two arguments have, however, been urged against
the Maccabean date. The first is that drawn from the occurrence of
vv. 6, 7, in Jer. x. 25. It is contended that Jeremiah is in the
habit of borrowing from earlier writers, that the verse immediately
preceding that in question is quoted from Psalm vi. 1, and that the
connection of the passage in the psalm is closer than in the prophet,
and, therefore, that the words are presumably _in situ_ here, as also
that the verbal alterations are such as to suggest that the prophet
rather than the psalmist is the adapter. But, on the other hand,
Hupfeld maintains that the connection in Jeremiah is the closer. Not
much weight can be attached to that point, for neither prophet nor
poet can be tied down to cool concatenation of sentences. Delitzsch
claims the verbal alterations as indubitable proofs of the priority
of the prophet, and maintains that "the borrower betrays himself" by
changing the prophet's words into less accurate and elegant ones,
and by omissions which impair "the soaring fulness of Jeremiah's
expressions." The critics who hold that the psalm refers to the
Chaldean invasion, and that Jeremiah has borrowed from it, have to
face a formidable difficulty. The psalm must have been written after
the catastrophe: the prophecy preceded it. How then can the prophet be
quoting the psalm? The question has not been satisfactorily answered,
nor is it likely to be.

A second argument against the Maccabean date is based upon the
quotation of ver. 3 in 1 Macc. vii. 16, which it introduces by
the usual formula of quotation from Scripture. It is urged that a
composition so recent as the psalm would be, if of Maccabean date,
would not be likely to be thus referred to. But this argument confuses
the date of occurrence recorded in 1 Maccabees with the date of the
record; and there is no improbability in the writer of the book
quoting as Scripture a psalm which had sprung from the midst of the
tragedy which he narrates.

The strophical division is not perfectly clear, but it is probably
best to recognise three strophes of four verses each, with an
appended verse of conclusion. The first spreads before God His
peoples miseries. The second and third are prayer for deliverance
and confession of sin; but they differ, in that the former strophe
dwells mainly upon the wished-for destruction of the enemy, and the
latter upon the rescue of Israel, while a subordinate diversity is
that ancestral sins are confessed in the one, and those of the present
generation in the other. Ver. 13 stands out of the strophe scheme as
a kind of epilogue.

The first strophe vividly describes the ghastly sights that wrung
the psalmist's heart, and will, as he trusts, move God's to pity and
help. The same thought as was expressed in Psalm lxxiv. underlies the
emphatic repetition of "Thy" in this strophe--namely, the implication
of God's fair name in His people's disasters. "_Thine_ inheritance"
is invaded, and "_Thy_ holy Temple" defiled by thee "heathen." The
corpses of "_Thy_ servants" lie unburied, torn by vultures' beaks
and jackals' claws. The blood of "_Thy_ favoured Ones" saturates the
ground. It was not easy to hold fast by the reality of God's special
relation to a nation thus apparently deserted, but the psalmist's
faith stood even such a strain, and is not dashed by a trace of doubt.
Such times are the test and triumph of trust. If genuine, it will show
brightest against the blackest background. The word in ver. 1 rendered
"heathen" is usually translated "nations," but here evidently connotes
idolatry (ver. 6). Their worship of strange gods, rather than their
alien nationality, makes their invasion of God's inheritance a tragic
anomaly. The psalmist remembers the prophecy of Micah (iii. 12) that
Jerusalem should become heaps, and sadly repeats it as fulfilled at
last. As already noticed, ver. 3 is quoted in 1 Macc. vii. 16, 17,
and ver. 4 is found in Psalm xliv. 13, which is by many commentators
referred to the Maccabean period.

The second strophe passes to direct petition, which, as it were, gives
voice to the stiffened corpses strewing the streets, and the righteous
blood crying from the ground. The psalmist goes straight to the cause of
calamity--the anger of God--and, in the close of the strophe, confesses
the sins which had kindled it. Beneath the play of politics and the
madness of Antiochus, he discerned God's hand at work. He reiterates the
fundamental lesson, which prophets were never weary of teaching, that
national disasters are caused by the anger of God, which is excited by
national sins. That conviction is the first element in his petitions.
A second is the twin conviction that the "heathen" are used by God as
His instrument of chastisement, but that, when they have done their
work, they are called to account for the human passion--cruelty, lust of
conquest, and the like--which impelled them to it. Even as they poured
out the blood of God's people, they have God's wrath poured out on them,
because "they have eaten up Jacob."

The same double point of view is frequently taken by the prophets: for
example, in Isaiah's magnificent prophecy against "the Assyrian" (x.
5 _seq._), where the conqueror is first addressed as "the rod of Mine
anger," and then his "punishment" is foretold, because, while executing
God's purpose, he had been unconscious of his mission, and had been
gratifying his ambition. These two convictions go very deep into "the
philosophy of history." Though modified in their application to modern
states and politics, they are true in substance still. The Goths who
swept down on Rome, the Arabs who crushed a corrupt Christianity, the
French who stormed across Europe, were God's scavengers, gathered
vulture-like round carrion, but they were each responsible for their
cruelty, and were punished "for the fruit of their stout hearts."

The closing verse of the strophe (ver. 8) is intimately connected
with the next, which we take as beginning the third strophe: but this
connection does not set aside the strophical division, though it
somewhat obscures it. The distinction between the similar petitions of
vv. 8, 9, is sufficient to warrant our recognition of that division,
even whilst acknowledging that the two parts coalesce more closely
than usual. The psalmist knows that the heathen have been hurled
against Israel because God is angry; and he knows that God's anger is
no arbitrarily kindled flame, but one lit and fed by Israel's sins. He
knows, too, that there is a fatal entail by which the iniquities of
the fathers are visited on the children. Therefore, he asks first that
these ancestral sins may not be "remembered," nor their consequences
discharged on the children's heads. "The evil that men do lives after
them," and history affords abundant instances of the accumulated
consequences of ancestors' crimes lighting on descendants that had
abandoned the ancient evil, and were possibly doing their best to
redress it. Guilt is not transmitted, but results of wrong are; and
it is one of the tragedies of history that "one soweth and another
reapeth" the bitter fruit. Upon one generation may, and often does,
come the blood of all the righteous men that many generations have
slain (Matt. xxiii. 35).

The last strophe (vv. 9-12) continues the strain begun in ver. 8, but
with significant deepening into confession of the sins of the existing
generation. The psalmist knows that the present disaster is no case
of the fathers having eaten sour grapes and the children's teeth
being set on edge, but that he and his contemporaries had repeated
the fathers transgressions. The ground of his plea for cleansing and
deliverance is the glory of God's name, which he emphatically puts
at the end of both clauses of ver. 9. He repeats the same thought in
another form in the question of ver. 10, "Why should the heathen say,
Where is their God?" If Israel, sinful though it is, and therefore
meriting chastisement, is destroyed, there will be a blot on God's
name, and the "heathen" will take it as proof, not that Israel's God
was just, but that He was too feeble or too far off to hear prayers or
to send succours. It is bold faith which blends acknowledgment of sins
with such a conviction of the inextricable intertwining of God's glory
and the sinners' deliverance. Lowly confession is wonderfully wedded
to confidence that seems almost too lofty. But the confidence is in
its inmost core as lowly as the confession, for it disclaims all right
to God's help, and clasps His name as its only but sufficient plea.

The final strophe dwells more on the sufferings of the survivors than
the earlier parts of the psalm do, and in this respect contrasts with
Psalm lxxiv., which is all but entirely silent as to these. Not only
does the spilt blood of dead confessors cry for vengeance, since they
died for their faith, as "Thy servants," but the groans and sighs of
the living who are captives, and "sons of death"--_i.e._, doomed to
die, if unrescued by God--appeal to Him. The expressions "the groaning
of the captive" and "the sons of death" occur in Psalm cii. 20, from
which, if this is a composition of Maccabean date, they are here
quoted. The strophe ends with recurring to the central thought of both
this and the companion psalm--the reproach on God from His servants'
calamities--and prays that the enemies' taunts may be paid back into
their bosoms sevenfold--_i.e._, in fullest measure.

The epilogue in ver. 13 has the image of a flock, so frequent in the
Asaph psalms, suggesting tender thoughts of the shepherd's care and
of his obligations. Deliverance will evoke praise, and, instead of
the sad succession of sin and suffering from generation to generation,
the solidarity of the nation will be more happily expressed by ringing
songs, transmitted from father to son, and gathering volume as they
flow from age to age.




                              PSALM LXXX.

   1  Shepherd of Israel, give ear,
      Thou who leddest Joseph like a flock,
      Thou that sittest [throned upon] the cherubim, shine forth.
   2  Before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh stir up Thy strength,
      And come for salvation for us.
   3  O God, restore us,
      And cause Thy face to shine, and we shall be saved.

   4  Jehovah, God [of] Hosts,
      How long wilt Thou be angry against the prayer of Thy people?
   5  Thou hast made them eat tears [as] bread,
      And hast given them to drink [of] tears in large measure.
   6  Thou makest us a strife to our neighbours,
      And our enemies mock to their hearts' content.
   7  God [of] Hosts, restore us,
      And cause Thy face to shine, and we shall be saved.

   8  A vine out of Egypt didst Thou transplant,
      Thou didst drive out the nations and plant it.
   9  Thou didst clear a place before it,
      And it threw out its roots and filled the land.
  10  The mountains were covered with its shadow,
      And its branches [were like] the cedars of God.
  11  It spread its boughs [even] unto the sea,
      And to the River its shoots.

  12  Why hast Thou broken down its fences,
      So that all who pass on the way pluck from it?
  13  The boar of the wood roots it up
      And the beasts of the field feed on it.
  14  God [of] Hosts, turn, we beseech Thee,
      Look from heaven and see,
      And visit this vine.
  15  And protect what Thy right hand has planted,
      And the son whom Thou madest strong for Thyself.
  16  Burned with fire is it--cut down;
      At the rebuke of Thy countenance they perish.
  17  Let Thy hand be upon the man of Thy right hand,
      Upon the son of man [whom] Thou madest strong for Thyself.
  18  And we will not go back from Thee;
      Revive us, and we will invoke Thy name.
  19  Jehovah, God [of] Hosts, restore us,
      And cause Thy face to shine, and we shall be saved.


This psalm is a monument of some time of great national calamity; but
its allusions do not enable us to reach certainty as to what that
calamity was. Two striking features of it have been used as clues
to its occasion--namely, the designation of the nation as "Joseph,"
and the mention of the three tribes in ver. 2. Calvin, Delitzsch,
Hengstenberg, and others are led thereby to regard it as a prayer
by an inhabitant of Judah for the captive children of the northern
kingdom; while others, as Cheyne, consider that only the Persian
period explains the usage in question. The name of "Joseph" is applied
to the whole nation in other Asaph psalms (lxxvii. 15; lxxxi. 5). It
is tempting to suppose, with Hupfeld, that this nomenclature indicates
that the ancient antagonism of the kingdoms has passed away with the
captivity of the Ten Tribes, and that the psalmist, a singer in Judah,
looks wistfully to the ideal unity, yearns to see breaches healed,
and the old associations of happier days, when "Ephraim and Benjamin
and Manasseh" encamped side by side in the desert, and marched one
after the other, renewed in a restored Israel. If this explanation of
the mention of the tribes is adopted, the psalm falls in some period
after the destruction of the northern kingdom, but prior to that of
Judah. The prayer in the refrain "turn us" might, indeed, mean "bring
us back from exile," but may as accurately be regarded as asking for
restored prosperity--an explanation which accords better with the rest
of the psalm. We take the whole, then, as a prayer for the nation,
conceived of in its original, long-broken unity. It looks back to the
Divine purpose as expressed in ancient deeds of deliverance, and prays
that it may be fulfilled, notwithstanding apparent thwarting. Closer
definition of date is unattainable.

The triple refrain in vv. 3, 7, 19, divides the psalm into three
unequal parts. The last of these is disproportionately long, and may
be further broken up into three parts, of which the first (vv. 8-11)
describes the luxuriant growth of Israel under the parable of a vine,
the second (vv. 12-14) brings to view the bitter contrast of present
ruin, and, with an imperfect echo of the refrain, melts into the
petitioning tone of the third (vv. 15-19), which is all prayer.

In the first strophe "Shepherd of Israel" reminds us of Jacob's
blessing of Ephraim and Manasseh, in which he invoked "the God who
shepherded me all my life long" to "bless the lads," and of the title
in Gen. xlix. 24, "the shepherd, the stone of Israel." The comparison
of the nation to a flock is characteristic of the Asaph psalms, and
here refers to the guidance of the people at the Exodus. Delitzsch
regards the notions of the earthly and heavenly sanctuary as being
blended in the designation of God as sitting throned on the cherubim,
but it is better to take the reference as being to His dwelling in the
Temple. The word rendered "shine forth" occurs in Psalm l. 2, where
it expresses His coming from "Zion," and so it does here. The same
metaphor underlies the subsequent petition in ver. 3. In both God is
thought of as light, and the manifestation of His delivering help is
likened to the blazing out of the sun from behind a cloud.

In reference to the mention of the tribes in ver. 2, we need only
add to what has been already said, that the petitions of ver. 1,
which look back to the wilderness marches, when the Ark led the van,
naturally suggested the mention of the three tribes who were together
reckoned as "the camp of Ephraim," and who, in the removal of the
encampment, "set forth third"--that is, immediately in the rear of the
tabernacle. The order of march explains not only the collocation here,
but the use of the word "Before." Joseph and Benjamin were children of
the same mother, and the schism which parted their descendants is, to
the psalmist's faith, as transient as unnatural. Once again shall the
old unity be seen, when the brothers' sons shall again dwell and fight
side by side, and God shall again go forth before them for victory.

The prayer of the refrain, "turn us," is not to be taken as for
restoration from exile, which is negatived by the whole tone of the
psalm, nor as for spiritual quickening, but simply asks for the return
of the glories of ancient days. The petition that God would let
His face shine upon the nation alludes to the priestly benediction
(Numb. vi. 25), thus again carrying us back to the wilderness. Such
a flashing forth is all that is needed to change blackest night into
day. To be "saved" means here to be rescued from the assaults of
hostile nations. The poet was sure that Israel's sole defence was God,
and that one gleam of His face would shrivel up the strongest foes,
like unclean, slimy creatures which writhe and die in sunshine. The
same conviction is valid in a higher sphere. Whatever elevation of
meaning is given to "saved," the condition of it is always this--the
manifestation of God's face. That brings light into all dark hearts.
To behold that light, and to walk in it, and to be transformed by
beholding, as they are who lovingly and steadfastly gaze, is salvation.

A piteous tale of suffering is wailed forth in the second strophe.
The peculiar accumulation of the Divine names in vv. 4, 19, is found
also in Psalms lix. 5 and lxxxiv. 8. It is grammatically anomalous,
as the word for God (Elohim) does not undergo the modification
which would show that the next word is to be connected with it by
"of." Hence, some have regarded "Ts'bhaoth" (hosts) as being almost
equivalent to a proper name of God, which it afterwards undoubtedly
became; while others have explained the construction by supposing the
phrase to be elliptical, requiring after "God" the supplement "God
of." This accumulation of Divine names is by some taken as a sign of
late date. Is it not a mark of the psalmist's intensity rather than
of his period? In accordance with the Elohistic character of the
Asaph psalms, the common expression "Jehovah of Hosts" is expanded;
but the hypothesis that the expansion was the work of a redactor is
unnecessary. It may quite as well have been that of the author.

The urgent question "How long?" is not petulant impatience, but
hope deferred, and, though sick at heart, still cleaving to God and
remonstrating for long-protracted calamities. The bold imagery of ver.
4 _b_ cannot well be reproduced in translation. The rendering "wilt
Thou be angry?" is but a feeble reproduction of the vigorous original,
which runs "wilt Thou smoke?" Other psalms (_e.g._, lxxiv. 1) speak
of God's anger as smoking, but here the figure is applied to God
Himself. What a contrast it presents to the petition in the refrain!
That "light" of Israel has become "as a flaming fire." A terrible
possibility of darkening and consuming wrath lies in the Divine
nature, and the very emblem of light suggests it. It is questionable
whether the following words should be rendered "against the prayer
of Thy people," or "while Thy people are praying" (Delitzsch). The
former meaning is in accordance with the Hebrew, with other Scripture
passages, and with the tone of the psalm, and is to be preferred,
as more forcibly putting the anomaly of an unanswering God. Ver. 5
presents the national sorrows under familiar figures. The people's
food and drink were tears. The words of _a_ may either be rendered
"bread of tears"--_i.e._, eaten with, or rather consisting of, tears;
or, as above, "tears [as] bread." The word rendered "in large measure"
means "the third part"--"of some larger measure." It is found only in
Isa. xl. 12. "The third part of an ephah is a puny measure for the
dust of the earth, [but] it is a large measure for tears" (Delitzsch,
_in loc._). Ver. 6 adds one more touch to the picture--gleeful
neighbours cynically rejoicing to their hearts' content (lit., for
themselves) over Israel's calamities. Thus, in three verses, the
psalmist points to an angry God, a weeping nation, and mocking foes, a
trilogy of woe. On all he bases an urgent repetition of the refrain,
which is made more imploring by the expanded name under which God is
invoked to help. Instead of the simple "God," as in ver. 3, he now
says "God of Hosts." As sense of need increases, a true suppliant goes
deeper into God's revealed character.

From ver. 8 onwards the parable of the vine as representing Israel
fills the singer's mind. As has been already noticed, this part of
the psalm may be regarded as one long strophe, the parts of which
follow in orderly sequence, and are held closely together, as shown
by the recurrence of the refrain at the close only. Three stages are
discernible in it--a picture of what has been, the contrast of what is
now, and a prayer for speedy help. The emblem of the vine, which has
received so great development in the prophets, and has been hallowed
for ever by our Lord's use of it, seems to have been suggested to the
psalmist by the history of Joseph, to which he has already alluded.
For, in Jacob's blessing (Gen. xlix. 22 _seqq._), Joseph is likened
to a fruitful bough. Other Old Testament writers have drawn out the
manifold felicities of the emblem as applied to Israel. But these need
not concern us here, where the point is rather God's husbandry and the
vine's growth, both of which are in startling contrast with a doleful
present. The figure is carried out with much beauty in detail. The
Exodus was the vine's transplanting; the destruction of the Canaanites
was the grubbing up of weeds to clear the ground for it; the numerical
increase of the people was its making roots and spreading far. In ver.
10 _b_ the rendering may be either that adopted above, or "And the
cedars of God [were covered with] its branches." The latter preserves
the parallelism of clauses and the unity of representation in vv. 10,
11, which will then deal throughout with the spreading growth of the
vine. But the cedars would not have been called "of God,"--which implies
their great size,--unless their dimensions had been in point, which
would not be the case if they were only thought of as espaliers for the
vine. And the image of its running over the great trees of Lebanon is
unnatural. The rendering as above is to be preferred, even though it
somewhat mars the unity of the picture. The extent of ground covered by
the vine is described, in ver. 11, as stretching from the Mediterranean
to the Euphrates (Deut. xi. 24; 1 Kings iv. 24). Such had been the
glories of the past; and they had all been the work of God's hand.

In ver. 12 the miserable contrast of present desolation is spread
before God, with the bold and yet submissive question "Why?" The
vineyard wall is thrown down, and the vine lies exposed to every
vagrant passenger, and to every destructive creature. Swine from the
woods burrow at its roots, and "whatever moves on the plain" (Psalm
l. 11, the only other place where the expression occurs) feeds on it.
The parallelism forbids the supposition that any particular enemy is
meant by the wild boar. Hupfeld would transpose ver. 16 so as to stand
after ver. 13, which he thinks improves the connection, and brings the
last part of the psalm into symmetrical form, in three equal parts,
containing four verses each. Cheyne would put vv. 14, 15, before vv.
12, 13, and thereby secures more coherence and sequence. But accuracy
in these matters is not to be looked for in such highly emotional
poetry, and perhaps a sympathetic ear may catch in the broken words a
truer ring than in the more orderly arrangement of them by critics.

Ver. 14 sounds like an imperfect echo of the refrain significantly
modified, so as to beseech that God would "turn" Himself, even as He
had been implored to "turn" his people. The purpose of His turning is
that He may "look and see" the condition of the desolated vineyard,
and thence be moved to interfere for its restoration. The verse may be
regarded as closing one of the imperfectly developed strophes of this
last part; but it belongs in substance to the following petitions,
though in form it is more closely connected with the preceding verses.
The picture of Israel's misery passes insensibly into prayer, and the
burden of that prayer is, first, that God would behold the sad facts,
as the preliminary to His acting in view of them.

The last part (vv. 15-19) is prayer for God's help, into which forces
itself one verse (16), recurring to the miseries of the nation. It
bursts in like an outcrop of lava, revealing underground disturbance
and fires. Surely that interruption is more pathetic and natural than
is the result obtained by the suggested transpositions. The meaning
of the word in ver. 15 rendered above "protect" is doubtful, and many
commentators would translate it as a noun, and regard it as meaning
"plant," or, as the A.V., "vineyard." The verse would then depend
on the preceding verb in ver. 14, "visit." But this construction is
opposed by the copula (_and_) preceding, and it is best to render
"protect," with a slight change in the vocalisation. There may be an
allusion to Jacob's blessing in ver. 15 _b_, for in it (Gen. xlix. 22)
Joseph is called a "fruitful bough"--lit., "son." If so, the figure of
the vine is retained in ver. 15 _b_ as well as in _a_.

The apparent interruption of the petitions by ver. 16 is accounted
for by the sharp pang that shot into the psalmist's heart, when he
recalled, in his immediately preceding words, the past Divine acts,
which seemed so contradicted now. But the bitterness, though it surges
up, is overcome, and his petitions return to their former strain in
ver. 17, which pathetically takes up, as it were, the broken thread,
by repeating "right hand" from ver. 15 _a_, and "whom Thou madest
strong for Thyself" from ver. 15 _b_. Israel, not an individual, is
the "man of Thy right hand," in which designation, coupled with "son,"
there may be an allusion to the name of Benjamin (ver. 2), the "son
of the right hand." Human weakness and Divine strength clothing it
are indicated in that designation for Israel "the son of man whom
Thou madest strong for Thyself." The inmost purpose of God's gifts
is that their recipients may be "the secretaries of His praise."
Israel's sacred calling, its own weakness, and the strength of the
God who endows it are all set forth, not now as lessons to it, but as
pleas with Him, whose gifts are without repentance, and whose purposes
cannot be foiled by man's unworthiness or opposition.

The psalm closes with a vow of grateful adhesion to God as the result
of His renewed mercy. They who have learned how bitter a thing it is to
turn away from God, and how blessed when He turns again to them, and
turns back their miseries and their sins, have good reason for not again
departing from Him. But if they are wise to remember their own weakness,
they will not only humbly vow future faithfulness, but earnestly implore
continual help; since only the constant communication of a Divine
quickening will open their lips to call upon God's name.

The refrain in its most expanded form closes the psalm. Growing
intensity of desire and of realisation of the pleas and pledges hived
in the name are expressed by its successive forms,--God; God of Hosts;
Jehovah, God of Hosts. The faith that grasps all that is contained in
that full-toned name already feels the light of God's face shining
upon it, and is sure that its prayer for salvation is not in vain.




                              PSALM LXXXI.

   1  Shout for joy to God our strength,
      Shout aloud to the God of Jacob.
   2  Lift up the song, and sound the timbrel,
      The pleasant lyre with the harp.
   3  Blow the trumpet on the new moon,
      On the full moon, for the day of our feast.
   4  For this is a statute for Israel,
      An ordinance of the God of Jacob.
   5  For a testimony in Joseph He appointed it,
      When He went forth over the land of Egypt.
      --A language which I know not I hear.

   6  I removed his shoulder from the burden,
      His hands were freed from the basket.
   7  In straits thou didst call and I delivered thee,
      I answered thee in the secret place of thunder,
      I proved thee at the waters of Meribah. Selah.
   8  Hear, My people, and I will witness to thee;
      O Israel, would that thou wouldest hearken to Me!
   9  There shall be no strange god in thee,
      And thou shalt not bow down to an alien god.
  10  I, I am Jehovah thy God,
      Who brought thee up from the land of Egypt.
      Open wide thy mouth, and I will fill it.

  11  But My people hearkened not to My voice,
      And Israel did not yield to Me.
  12  Then I let them go in the stubbornness of their heart,
      That they might walk in their own counsels.

  13  Would that My people would hearken to Me,
      That Israel would walk in My ways!
  14  Easily would I humble their enemies,
      And against their adversaries turn My hand.
  15  The haters of Jehovah would come feigning to Him,
      But their time should endure for ever.
  16  And He would feed thee with the fat of wheat,
      And with honey from the rock would I satisfy thee.


The psalmist summons priests and people to a solemn festival,
commemorative of Israel's deliverance from Egypt, and sets forth the
lessons which that deliverance teaches, the learning of which is the
true way of keeping the feast. There has been much discussion as to
which feast is in the psalmist's mind. That of Tabernacles has been
widely accepted as intended, chiefly on the ground that the first
day of the month in which it occurred was celebrated by the blowing
of trumpets, as the beginning of the civil year. This practice is
supposed to account for the language of ver. 3, which seems to imply
trumpet-blowing both at new and full moon. But, on other grounds,
the Passover is more likely to be intended, as the psalm deals with
the manifestations of Divine power attending the beginning of the
Exodus, which followed the first Passover, as well as with those
during the desert sojourn, which alone were commemorated by the
feast of Tabernacles. True, we have no independent knowledge of any
trumpet-blowing on the first day of the Passover month (Nisan);
but Delitzsch and others suggest that from this psalm it may be
inferred "that the commencement of each month, and more especially
the commencement of the month (Nisan), which was at the same time the
commencement of the ecclesiastical year, was signalised by the blowing
of horns." On the whole, the Passover is most probably the feast in
question.

Olshausen, followed by Cheyne, regards the psalm as made up of two
fragments (vv. 1-5 _a_, and 5 _c_-16). But surely the exhortations
and promises of the latter portion are most relevant to the summons to
the festival contained in the former part, and there could be no more
natural way of preparing for the right commemoration of the deliverance
than to draw out its lessons of obedience and to warn against departure
from the delivering God. Definiteness as to date is unattainable. The
presupposed existence of the full Temple ceremonial shows that the psalm
was not written in exile, nor at a time of religious persecution. Its
warning against idolatry would be needless in a post-exilic psalm, as
no tendency thereto existed after the return from captivity. But beyond
such general indications we cannot go. The theory that the psalm is
composed of two fragments exaggerates the difference between the two
parts into which it falls. These are the summons to the feast (vv. 1-5),
and the lessons of the feast (vv. 6-16).

Delitzsch suggests that the summons in ver. 1 is addressed to the
whole congregation; that in ver. 2 to the Levites, the appointed
singers and musicians; and that in ver. 3 to the priests who are
intrusted with blowing the Shophar, or horn (Josh. vi. 4, and 2 Chron.
xx. 28). One can almost hear the tumult of joyful sounds, in which the
roar of the multitude, the high-pitched notes of singers, the deeper
clash of timbrels, the twanging of stringed instruments, and the
hoarse blare of rams' horns, mingle in concordant discord, grateful
to Eastern ears, however unmusical to ours. The religion of Israel
allowed and required exuberant joy. It sternly rejected painting and
sculpture, but abundantly employed music, the most ethereal of the
arts, which stirs emotions and longings too delicate and deep for
speech. Whatever differences in form have necessarily attended the
progress from the worship of the Temple to that of the Church, the
free play of joyful emotion should mark the latter even more than the
former. Decorum is good, but not if purchased by the loss of ringing
gladness. The psalmist's summons has a meaning still.

The reason for it is given in vv. 4, 5 _a_. It--_i.e._, the feast
(not the musical accompaniments)--is appointed by God. The psalmist
employs designations for it, which are usually applied to "the word
of the Lord"; statute, ordinance, testimony, being all found in
Psalms xix., cxix., with that meaning. A triple designation of the
people corresponds with these triple names for the feast. _Israel_,
_Jacob_, and _Joseph_ are synonyms, the use of the last of these
having probably the same force here as in the preceding psalm--namely,
to express the singer's longing for the restoration of the shattered
unity of the nation. The summons to the feast is based, not only on
Divine appointment, but also on Divine purpose in that appointment.
It was "a testimony," a rite commemorative of a historical fact,
and therefore an evidence of it to future times. There is no better
proof of such a fact than a celebration of it, which originates
contemporaneously and continues through generations. The feast in
question was thus simultaneous with the event commemorated, as ver. 5
_b_ tells. It was God, not Israel, as is often erroneously supposed,
who "went forth." For the following preposition is not "from," which
might refer to the national departure, but "over" or "against," which
cannot have such a reference, since Israel did not, in any sense, go
"over" or "against" the land. God's triumphant forth-putting of power
over the whole land, especially in the death of the first-born, on
the night of the Passover, is meant to be remembered for ever, and is
at once the fact commemorated by the feast, and a reason for obeying
His appointment of it.

So far the thoughts and language are limpid, but ver. 5 _c_ interrupts
their clear flow. Who is the speaker thus suddenly introduced? What is
the "language" (lit., lip) which he "knew not"? The explanation implied
by the A.V. and R.V., that the collective Israel speaks, and that the
reference is, as in Psalm cxiv. 1, to the "strange language" of the
Egyptians, is given by most of the older authorities, and by Ewald
and Hengstenberg, but has against it the necessity for the supplement
"where," and the difficulty of referring the "I" to the nation. The more
usual explanation in modern times is that the speaker is the psalmist,
and that the language which he hears is the voice of God, the substance
of which follows in the remainder of the psalm. As in Job iv. 16 Eliphaz
could not discern the appearance of the mysterious form that stood
before his eyes, and thus its supernatural character is suggested, so
the psalmist hears an utterance of a hitherto unknown kind, which he
thus implies to have been Divine. God Himself speaks, to impress the
lessons of the past, and to excite the thoughts and feelings which would
rightly celebrate the feast. The glad noises of song, harp, and trumpet
are hushed; the psalmist is silent, to hear that dread Voice, and then
with lowly lips he repeats so much of the majestic syllables as he could
translate into words which it was possible for a man to utter. The
inner coherence of the two parts of the psalm is, on this explanation,
so obvious, that there is no need nor room for the hypothesis of two
fragments having been fused into one.

The Divine Voice begins with recapitulating the facts which the feast
was intended to commemorate--namely, the act of emancipation from
Egyptian bondage (ver. 6), and the miracles of the wilderness sojourn
(ver. 7). The compulsory labour, from which God delivered the people, is
described by two terms, of which the former (burden) is borrowed from
Exodus, where it frequently occurs (Exod. i. 11, v. 4, vi. 6), and the
latter (basket) is by some supposed to mean the wicker-work implement
for carrying, which the monuments show was in use in Egypt (so LXX.,
etc.), and by others to mean an earthen vessel, as "an example of the
work in clay in which the Israelites were engaged" (Hupfeld). The years
of desert wandering are summed up, in ver. 7, as one long continuance
of benefits from God. Whenever they cried to Him in their trouble, He
delivered them. He spoke to them "from the secret place of thunder"
("_My thunder-covert_," Cheyne). That expression is generally taken to
refer to the pillar of cloud, but seems more naturally to be regarded as
alluding to the thick darkness, in which God was shrouded on Sinai, when
He spoke His law amid thunderings and lightnings. "The proving at the
waters of Meribah" is, according to the connection and in harmony with
Exod. xvii. 6, to be regarded as a benefit. "It was meant to serve the
purpose of binding Israel still more closely to its God" (Baethgen). It
is usually assumed that, in this reference to "the waters of Meribah,"
the two similar incidents of the miraculous supply of water--one of
which occurred near the beginning of the forty years in the desert, at
"Massah and Meribah" (Exod. xvii. 7), and the other at "the waters of
Meribah," near Kadesh, in the fortieth year--have been blended, or, as
Cheyne says, "confused." But there is no need to suppose that there
is any confusion, for the words of the psalm will apply to the latter
miracle as well as to the former, and, if the former clause refers to
the manifestations at Sinai, the selection of an incident at nearly the
end of the wilderness period is natural. The whole stretch of forty
years is thereby declared to have been marked by continuous Divine care.
The Exodus was begun, continued, and ended amid tokens of His watchful
love. The Selah bids the listener meditate on that prolonged revelation.

That retrospect next becomes the foundation of a Divine exhortation
to the people, which is to be regarded as spoken originally to Israel
in the wilderness, as ver. 11 shows. Perowne well designates these
verses (8-10) "a discourse within a discourse." They put into words
the meaning of the wilderness experience, and sum up the laws spoken
on Sinai, which they in part repeat. The purpose of God's lavish
benefits was to bind Israel to Himself. "Hear, My people," reminds us
of Deut. v. 1, vi. 4. "I will bear witness to thee" here means rather
solemn warning to, than testifying against, the person addressed.
With infinite pathos, the tone of the Divine Speaker changes from
that of authority to pleading and the utterance of a yearning wish,
like a sigh. "Would that thou wouldest hearken!" God desires nothing
so earnestly as that, but His Divine desire is tragically and
mysteriously foiled. The awful human power of resisting His voice
and of making His efforts vain, the still more awful fact of the
exercise of that power, were clear before the psalmist, whose daring
anthropopathy teaches a deep lesson, and warns us against supposing
that men have to do with an impassive Deity. That wonderful utterance
of Divine wish is almost a parenthesis. It gives a moment's glimpse
into the heart of God, and then the tone of command is resumed.
"In ver. 9 the keynote of the revelation of the law from Sinai is
given; the fundamental command which opens the Decalogue demanded
fidelity towards Jehovah, and forbade idolatry, as the sin of sins"
(Delitzsch). The reason for exclusive devotion to God is based in
ver. 10, as in Exod. xx. 2, the fundamental passage, on His act of
deliverance, not on His sole Divinity. A theoretic Monotheism would
be cold; the consciousness of benefits received from One Hand alone
is the only key that will unlock a heart's exclusive devotion and lay
it at His feet. And just as the commandment to worship God alone is
founded on His unaided delivering might and love, so it is followed
by the promise that such exclusive adhesion to Him will secure the
fulfilment of the boldest wishes, and the satisfying of the most
clamant or hungry desires. "Open wide thy mouth, and I will fill it."
It is folly to go to strange gods for the supply of needs, when God
is able to give all that every man can wish. We may be well content
to cleave to Him alone, since He alone is more than enough for each
and for all. Why should _they_ waste time and strength in seeking for
supplies from many, who can find all they need in One? They who put
Him to the proof, and find Him enough, will have, in their experience
of His sufficiency, a charm to protect them from all vagrant desire
to "go further and fare worse." The best defence against temptations
to stray from God is the possession by experience, of His rich gifts
that meet all desires. That great saying teaches, too, that God's
bestowals are practically measured by men's capacity and desire. The
ultimate limit of them is His own limitless grace; but the working
limit in each individual is the individual's receptivity, of which
his expectancy and desire are determining factors.

In vv. 11, 12, the Divine Voice laments the failure of benefits and
commandments and promises to win Israel to God. There is a world of
baffled tenderness and almost wondering rebuke in the designation of
the rebels as "My people." It would have been no cause of astonishment
if other nations had not listened; but that the tribes bound by so
many kindnesses should have been deaf is a sad marvel. Who should
listen to "My voice" if "My people" do not? The penalty of not
yielding to God is to be left unyielding. The worst punishment of sin
is the prolongation and consequent intensifying of the sin. A heart
that wilfully closes itself against God's pleadings brings on itself
the nemesis, that it becomes incapable of opening, as a self-torturing
Hindoo fakir may clench his fist so long, that at last his muscles
lose their power, and it remains shut for his lifetime. The issue of
such "stubbornness" is walking in their own counsels, the practical
life being regulated entirely by self-originated and God-forgetting
dictates of prudence or inclination. He who will not have the Divine
Guide has to grope his way as well as he can. There is no worse fate
for a man than to be allowed to do as he chooses. "The ditch," sooner
or later, receives the man who lets his active powers, which are in
themselves blind, be led by his understanding, which he has himself
blinded by forbidding it to look to the One Light of Life.

In ver. 13 the Divine Voice turns to address the joyous crowd of
festal worshippers, exhorting them to that obedience which is the
true keeping of the feast, and holding forth bright promises of
the temporal blessings which, in accordance with the fundamental
conditions of Israel's prosperity, should follow thereon. The sad
picture of ancient rebellion just drawn influences the language in
this verse, in which "My people," "hearken," and "walk" recur. The
antithesis to walking in one's own counsels is walking in God's
ways, suppressing native stubbornness, and becoming docile to His
guidance. The highest blessedness of man is to have a will submissive
to God's will, and to carry out that submission in all details of
life. Self-engineered paths are always hard, and, if pursued to the
end, lead into the dark. The listening heart will not lack guidance,
and obedient feet will find God's way the way of peace which steadily
climbs to unfading light.

The blessings attached in the psalm to such conformity with God's will
are of an external kind, as was to be expected at the Old Testament
stage of revelation. They are mainly two--victory and abundance. But
the precise application of ver. 15 _b_ is doubtful. Whose "time" is to
"endure for ever"? There is much to be said in favour of the translation
"that so their time might endure for ever," as Cheyne renders, and for
understanding it, as he does, as referring to the enemies who yield
themselves to God, in order that they "might be a never-exhausted
people." But to bring in the purpose of the enemies submission is
somewhat irrelevant, and the clause is probably best taken to promise
length of days to Israel. In ver. 16 the sudden change of persons in
a is singular, and, according to the existing vocalisation, there is
an equally sudden change of tenses, which induces Delitzsch and others
to take the verse as recurring to historical retrospect. The change to
the third person is probably occasioned, as Hupfeld suggests, by the
preceding naming of Jehovah, or may have been due to an error. Such
sudden changes are more admissible in Hebrew than with us, and are very
easily accounted for, when God is represented as speaking. The momentary
emergence of the psalmist's personality would lead him to say "He," and
the renewed sense of being but the echo of the Divine Voice would lead
to the recurrence to the "I," in which God speaks directly. The words
are best taken as in line with the other hypothetical promises in the
preceding verses. The whole verse looks back to Deut. xxxii. 13, 14.
"Honey from the rock" is not a natural product; but, as Hupfeld says,
the parallel "oil out of the flinty rock," which follows in Deuteronomy,
shows that "we are here, not on the ground of the actual, but of
the ideal," and that the expression is a hyperbole for incomparable
abundance. Those who hearken to God's voice will have all desires
satisfied and needs supplied. They will find furtherance in hindrances,
fertility in barrenness; rocks will drop honey and stones will become
bread.




                             PSALM LXXXII.

  1  God stands in the congregation of God,
     In the midst of the gods He judges.

  2  How long win ye judge injustice,
     And accept the persons of wicked men? Selah.
  3  Right the weak and the orphan,
     Vindicate the afflicted and the poor.
  4  Rescue the weak and needy,
     From the hand of the wicked deliver [them].

  5  They know not, they understand not,
     In darkness they walk to and fro,
     All the foundations of the earth totter.
  6  I myself have said, Ye are gods,
     And sons of the Most High are ye all.
  7  Surely like men shall ye die,
     And like one of the princes shall ye fall.

  8  Arise, O God, judge the earth,
     For Thou, Thou shall inherit all the nations.


In Psalm 1. God is represented as gathering His people together
to be judged; in this psalm He has garnered them together for His
judgment on judges. The former psalm begins at an earlier point of
the great Cause than this one does. In it, unnamed messengers go
forth to summons the nation; in this, the first verse shows us the
assembled congregation, the accused, and the Divine Judge standing
in "the midst" in statuesque immobility. An awe-inspiring pause
intervenes, and then the silence is broken by a mighty voice of
reproof and admonition (vv. 2-4). The speaker may be the psalmist,
but the grand image of God as judging loses much of its solemnity
and appropriateness, unless these stern rebukes and the following
verses till the end of ver. 7 are regarded as His voice of judgment.
Ver. 5 follows these rebukes with "an indignant aside from the Judge"
(Cheyne), evoked by obstinate deafness to His words; and vv. 6, 7,
pronounce the fatal sentence on the accused, who are condemned by
their own refusal to hearken to Divine remonstrances. Then, in ver.
8, after a pause like that which preceded God's voice, the psalmist,
who has been a silent spectator, prays that what he has heard in the
inward ear, and seen with the inward eye, may be done before the
nations of the world, since it all belongs to Him by right.

The scene pictured in ver. 1 has been variously interpreted. "The
congregation of God" is most naturally understood according to the
parallel in Psalm l., and the familiar phrase "the congregation of
Israel" as being the assembled nation. Its interpretation and that
of the "gods" who are judged hang together. If the assembly is the
nation, the persons at the bar can scarcely be other than those who
have exercised injustice on the nation. If, on the other hand, the
"gods" are ideal or real angelic beings, the assembly will necessarily
be a heavenly one. The use of the expressions "The congregation of
Jehovah" (Numb. xxvii. 17, xxxi. 16; Josh. xxii. 16, 17) and "Thy
congregation" (Psalm lxxiv. 2) makes the former interpretation the
more natural, and therefore exercises some influence in determining
the meaning of the other disputed word. The interpretation of "gods"
as angels is maintained by Hupfeld; and Bleek, followed by Cheyne,
goes the fun length of regarding them as patron angels of the nations.
But, as Baethgen says, "that angels should be punished with death
is a thought which lies utterly beyond the Old Testament sphere of
representation," and the incongruity can hardly be reckoned to be
removed by Cheyne's remark, that, since angels are in other places
represented as punished, "it is only a step further" to say that they
are punished with death. If, however, these "gods" are earthly rulers,
the question still remains whether they are Jewish or foreign judges?
The latter opinion is adopted chiefly on the ground of the reference
in ver. 8 to a world-embracing judicial act, which, however, by no
means compels its acceptance, since it is entirely in accordance
with the manner of psalmists to recognise in partial acts of Divine
retribution the operation in miniature of the same Divine power,
which will one day set right all wrongs, and, on occasion of the
smaller manifestation of Divine righteousness, to pray for a universal
judgment. There would be little propriety in summoning the national
assembly to behold judgments wrought on foreign rulers, unless these
alien oppressors were afflicting Israel, of which there is no sure
indications in the psalm. The various expressions for the afflicted
in vv. 3, 4, are taken, by the supporters of the view that the judges
are foreigners, to mean the whole nation as it groaned under their
oppression, but there is nothing to show that they do not rather refer
to the helpless in Israel.

Our Lord's reference to ver. 6 in John x. 34-38 is, by the present
writer, accepted as authoritatively settling both the meaning and the
ground of the remarkable name of "gods" for human judges. It does not
need that we should settle the mystery of His emptying Himself, or trace
the limits of His human knowledge, in order to be sure that He spoke
truth with authority, when He spoke on such a subject as His own Divine
nature, and the analogies and contrasts between it and the highest
human authorities. His whole argument is worthless, unless the "gods"
in the psalm are men. He tells us why that august title is applied
to them--namely, because to them "the word of God came." They were
recipients of a Divine word, constituting them in their office; and,
in so far as they discharged its duties, their decrees were God's word
ministered by them. That is especially true in a theocratic state such
as Israel, where the rulers are, in a direct way, God's vicegerents,
clothed by Him with delegated authority, which they exercise under His
control. But it is also true about all who are set in similar positions
elsewhere. The office is sacred, whatever its holders are.

The contents of the psalm need little remark. In vv. 2-4 God speaks in
stern upbraiding and command. The abrupt pealing forth of the Divine
Voice, without any statement of who speaks, is extremely dramatic
and impressive. The judgment hall is filled with a hushed crowd. No
herald is needed to proclaim silence. Strained expectance sits on
every ear. Then the silence is broken. These authoritative accents
can come but from one speaker. The crimes rebuked are those to which
rulers, in such a state of society as was in Israel, are especially
prone, and such as must have been well-nigh universal at the time of
the psalmist. They were no imaginary evils against which these sharp
arrows were launched. These princes were like those gibbeted for ever
in Isa. 1.--loving gifts and following after rewards, murderers rather
than judges, and fitter to be "rulers of Sodom" than of God's city.
They had prostituted their office by injustice, had favoured the rich
and neglected the poor, had been deaf to the cry of the helpless, had
steeled their hearts against the miseries of the afflicted, and left
them to perish in the gripe of the wicked. Such is the indictment.
Does it sound applicable to angels?

For a moment the Divine Voice pauses. Will its tones reach any
consciences? No. There is no sign of contrition among the judges, who
are thus solemnly being judged. Therefore God speaks again, as if
wondering, grieved, and indignant "at the blindness of their hearts," as
His Son was when His words met the same reception from the same class.
Ver. 5 might almost be called a Divine lament over human impenitence,
ere the Voice swells into the fatal sentence. One remembers Christ's
tears, as He looked across the valley to the city glittering in the
morning sun. His tears did not hinder His pronouncing its doom; nor did
His pronouncing its doom hinder His tears. These judges were without
knowledge. They walked in darkness, because they walked in selfishness,
and never thought of God's judgment. Their gait was insolent, as the
form of the word "walk to and fro" implies. And, since they who were
set to be God's representatives on earth, and to show some gleam of His
justice and compassion, were ministers of injustice and vicegerents
of evil, fostering what they should have crushed, and crushing whom
they should have fostered, the foundations of society were shaken,
and, unless these were swept away, it would be dissolved into chaos.
Therefore the sentence must fall, as it does in vv. 6, 7. The grant of
dignity is withdrawn. They are stripped of their honours, as a soldier
of his uniform before he is driven from his corps. The judge's robe,
which they have smirched, is plucked off their shoulders, and they stand
as common men.




                             PSALM LXXXIII.

   1  O God, let there be no rest to Thee,
      Be not dumb, and keep not still, O God.
   2  For, behold, Thy enemies make a tumult,
      And they who hate Thee lift up the head.
   3  Against Thy people they make a crafty plot,
      And consult together against Thy hidden ones.
   4  They say, Come, and let us cut them off from [being] a nation,
      And let the name of Israel be remembered no more.

   5  For they consult together with one heart,
      Against Thee they make a league:
   6  The tents of Edom and the Ishmaelites,
      Moab and the Hagarenes,
   7  Gebal and Ammon and Amalek,
      Philistia with the dwellers in Tyre;
   8  Asshur also has joined himself to them,
      They have become an arm to the children of Lot. Selah.

   9  Do Thou to them as [to] Midian,
      As [to] Sisera, [to] Jabin at the brook Kishon,
  10  [Who] were destroyed at Endor,
      [Who] became manure for the land.
  11  Make them, their nobles, like Oreb and like Zeeb,
      And like Zebah and like Zalmunnah all their princes,
  12  Who say, Let us take for a possession to ourselves
      The habitations of God.

  13  My God, make them like a whirl of dust,
      Like stubble before the wind,
  14  Like fire [that] burns [the] forest,
      And like flame [that] scorches [the] mountains.
  15  So pursue them with Thy storm,
      And with Thy tempest strike them with panic.
  16  Fill their face with dishonour,
      That they may seek Thy name, Jehovah.

  17  Let them be ashamed and panic-struck for ever,
      And let them be abashed and perish;
  18  And let them know that Thou, [even] Thy name, Jehovah, alone
      Art the Most High over all the earth.


This psalm is a cry for help against a world in arms. The failure of
all attempts to point to a period when all the allies here represented
as confederate against Israel were or could have been united in
assailing it, inclines one to suppose that the enumeration of enemies
is not history, but poetic idealisation. The psalm would then be,
not the memorial of a fact, but the expression of the standing
relation between Israel and the outlying heathendom. The singer
masses together ancient and modern foes of diverse nationalities and
mutual animosities, and pictures them as burying their enmities and
bridging their separations, and all animated by one fell hatred to the
Dove of God, which sits innocent and helpless in the midst of them.
There are weighty objections to this view; but no other is free from
difficulties even more considerable. There are two theories which divide
the suffrages of commentators. The usual assignment of date is to the
league against Jehoshaphat recorded in 2 Chron. xx. But it is hard to
find that comparatively small local confederacy of three peoples in the
wide-reaching alliance described in the psalm. Chronicles enumerates the
members of the league as being the children of Moab and "the children
of Ammon, and with them some of the Ammonites," which last unmeaning
designation should be read, as in the LXX., "the Me'unim." and adds to
these Edom (2 Chron. xx. 2, corrected text). Even if the contention
of the advocates of this date for the psalm is admitted, and "the
Me'unim" are taken to include the Arab tribes, whom the psalmist calls
Ishmaelites and Hagarenes, there remains the fact that he names also
Philistia, Amalek, Tyre, and Asshur, none of whom is concerned in the
alliance against Jehoshaphat. It was, in fact, confined to eastern and
south-eastern nations, with whom distant western tribes could have no
common interest. Nor is the other view of the circumstances underlying
the psalm free from difficulty. It advocates a Maccabean date. In 1
Macc. v. it is recorded that the nations round about were enraged
at the restoration of the altar and dedication of the Temple after
its pollution by Antiochus Epiphanes, and were ready to break out in
hostility. Cheyne points to the occurrence in Maccabees of six of the
ten names mentioned in the psalm. But of the four not mentioned, two
are Amalek and Asshur, both of which had been blotted out of the roll
of nations long before the Maccabees' era. "The mention of Amalek,"
says Cheyne, "is half-Haggadic, half-antiquarian." But what should
Haggadic or antiquarian elements do in such a list? Asshur is explained
on this hypothesis as meaning Syria, which is very doubtful, and,
even if admitted, leaves unsolved the difficulty that the subordinate
place occupied by the nation in question would not correspond to the
importance of Syria in the time of the Maccabees. Of the two theories,
the second is the more probable, but neither is satisfactory; and
the view already stated, that the psalm does not refer to any actual
alliance, seems to the present writer the most probable. The world is
up in arms against God's people; and what weapon has Israel? Nothing but
prayer.

The psalm naturally falls into two parts, separated by Selah, of which
the first (vv. 1-8) describes Israel's extremity, and the second (vv.
9-18) is its supplication.

The psalmist begins with earnest invocation of God's help, beseeching
Him to break His apparent inactivity and silence. "Let there be no
rest to Thee" is like Isa. lxii. 6. God seems passive. It needs but
His Voice to break the dreary silence, and the foes will be scattered.
And there is strong reason for His intervention, for they are _His_
enemies, who riot and roar like the hoarse chafing of an angry sea,
for so the word rendered "make a tumult" implies (Psalm xlvi. 3). It
is "Thy people" who are the object of their crafty conspiracy, and it
is implied that these are thus hated because they _are_ God's people.
Israel's prerogative, which evokes the heathen's rage, is the ground
of Israel's confidence and the plea urged to God by it. Are we not Thy
"hidden ones"? And shall a hostile world be able to pluck us from our
safe hiding-place in the hollow of Thy hand? The idea of preciousness,
as well as that of protection, is included in the word. Men store
their treasures in secret places; God hides His treasures in the
"secret of His face," the "glorious privacy of light" inaccessible.
How vain are the plotters' whisperings against such a people!

The conspiracy has for its aim nothing short of blotting out the
national existence and the very name of Israel. It is therefore
high-handed opposition to God's counsel, and the confederacy is
against _Him_. The true antagonists are, not Israel and the world,
but God and the world. Calmness, courage, and confidence spring in
the heart with such thoughts. They who can feel that they are hid in
God may look out, as from a safe islet on the wildest seas, and fear
nothing. And all who will may hide in Him.

The enumeration of the confederates in vv. 6-8 groups together peoples
who probably were never really united for any common end. Hatred is
a very potent cement, and the most discordant elements may be fused
together in the fire of a common animosity. What a motley assemblage
is here! What could bring together in one company Ishmaelites and
Tyrians, Moab and Asshur? The first seven names in the list of allies
had their seats to the east and south-east of Palestine. Edom, Moab,
Ammon, and Amalek were ancestral foes, the last of which had been
destroyed in the time of Hezekiah (1 Chron. iv. 43). The mention of
descendants of Ishmael and Hagar, nomad Arab tribes to the south and
east, recalls their ancestors' expulsion from the patriarchal family.
Gebal is probably the mountainous region to the south of the Dead Sea.
Then the psalmist turns to the west, to Philistia, the ancient foe,
and Tyre, "the two peoples of the Mediterranean coast, which also
appear in Amos (ch. i.; _cf._ Joel iii.) as making common cause with
the Edomites against Israel" (Delitzsch). Asshur brings up the rear--a
strange post for it to occupy, to be reduced to be an auxiliary to the
"children of Lot," _i.e._ Moab and Ammon. The ideal character of this
muster-roll is supported by this singular inferiority of position, as
well as by the composition of the allied force, and by the allusion
to the shameful origin of the two leading peoples, which is the only
reference to Lot besides the narrative in Genesis.

The confederacy is formidable, but the psalmist does not enumerate
its members merely in order to emphasise Israel's danger. He is
contrasting this miscellaneous conglomeration of many peoples with
the Almighty One, against whom they are vainly banded. Faith can look
without a tremor on serried battalions of enemies, knowing that one
poor man, with God at his back, outnumbers them all. Let them come
from east and west, south and north, and close round Israel; God
alone is mightier than they. So, after a pause marked by Selah, in
which there is time to let the thought of the multitudinous enemies
sink into the soul, the psalm passes into prayer, which throbs with
confident assurance and anticipatory triumph. The singer recalls
ancient victories, and prays for their repetition. To him, as to
every devout man, to-day's exigencies are as sure of Divine help as
any yesterday's were, and what God has done is pledge and specimen of
what He is doing and will do. The battle is left to be waged by Him
alone. The psalmist does not seem to think of Israel's drawing sword,
but rather that it should stand still and see God fighting for it. The
victory of Gideon over Midian, to which Isaiah also refers as the very
type of complete conquest (Isa. ix. 3), is named first, but thronging
memories drive it out of the singer's mind for a moment, while he goes
back to the other crushing defeat of Jabin and Sisera at the hands of
Barak and Deborah (Judg. iv., v.). He adds a detail to the narrative
in Judges, when he localises the defeat at Endor, which lies on the
eastern edge of the great plain of Esdraelon. In ver. 11 he returns to
his first example of defeat--the slaughter of Midian by Gideon. Oreb
(raven) and Zeeb (wolf) were in command of the Midianites, and were
killed by the Ephraimites in the retreat. Zebah and Zalmunnah were
kings of Midian, and fell by Gideon's own hand (Judg. viii. 21). The
psalmist bases his prayer for such a dread fate for the foes on their
insolent purpose and sacrilegious purpose of making me dwellings (or,
possibly, the pastures) of God their own property. Not because the
land and its peaceful homes belonged to the suppliant and his nation,
but because they were God's, does he thus pray. The enemies had drawn
the sword; it was permissible to pray that they might fall by the
sword, or by some Divine intervention, since such was the only way of
defeating their God-insulting plans.

The psalm rises to high poetic fervour and imaginative beauty in the
terrible petitions of vv. 13-16. The word rendered "whirling dust" in
ver. 13 is somewhat doubtful. It literally means _a rolling thing_,
but what particular thing of the sort is difficult to determine. The
reference is perhaps to "spherical masses of dry weeds which course
over the plains." Thomson ("Land and Book," 1870, p. 563) suggests
the wild artichoke, which, when ripe, forms a globe of about a foot
in diameter. "In autumn the branches become dry and as light as a
feather, the parent stem breaks off at the ground, and the wind
carries these vegetable globes whithersoever it pleaseth. At the
proper season thousands of them come scudding over the plain, rolling,
leaping, bounding." So understood, the clause would form a complete
parallel with the next, which compares the fleeing foe to stubble,
not, of course, rooted, but loose and whirled before the wind. The
metaphor of ver. 14 is highly poetic, likening the flight of the foe
to the swift rush of a forest fire, which licks up (for so the word
rendered _scorches_ means) the woods on the hillsides, and leaves a
bare, blackened space. Still more terrible is the petition in ver. 15,
which asks that God Himself should chase the flying remnants, and
beat them down, helpless and panic-stricken, with storm and hurricane,
as He did the other confederacy of Canaanitish kings, when they fled
down the pass of Beth-Horon, and "Jehovah cast down great stones on
them from heaven" (Josh. x. 10, 11).

But there is a deeper desire in the psalmist's heart than the enemies'
destruction. He wishes that they should be turned into God's friends,
and he wishes for their chastisement as the means to that end. "That
they may seek Thy face, Jehovah," is the sum of his aspirations, as it
is the inmost meaning of God's punitive acts. The end of the judgment
of the world, which is continually going on by means of the history
of the world, is none other than what this psalmist contemplated as
the end of the defeat of that confederacy of God's enemies--that
rebels should seek His face, not in enforced submission, but with
true desire to sun themselves in its light, and with heart-felt
acknowledgment of His Name as supreme through all the earth. The
thought of God as standing alone in His majestic omnipotence, while
a world is vainly arrayed against Him, which we have traced in vv.
5-7, is prominent in the close of the psalm. The language of ver. 18
is somewhat broken, but its purport is plain, and its thought is all
the more impressive for the irregularity of construction. God alone
is the Most High. He is revealed to men by His Name. It stands alone,
as He in His nature does. The highest good of men is to know that
that sovereign Name is unique and high above all creatures, hostile
or obedient. Such knowledge is God's aim in punishment and blessing.
Its universal extension must be the deepest wish of all who have for
themselves learned how strong a fortress against a world in arms that
Name is; and their desires for the foes of God and themselves are not
in harmony with God's heart, nor with this psalmist's song, unless
they are, that His enemies may be led, by salutary defeat of their
enterprises and experience of the weight of God's hand, to bow, in
loving obedience, low before the Name which, whether they recognise
the fact or not, is high above an the earth.




                             PSALM LXXXIV.

   1  How lovely are Thy dwellings,
      Jehovah of Hosts!
   2  My soul longs, yea, even languishes, for the courts of Jehovah,
      My heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.
   3  Yea, the sparrow has found a house,
      And the swallow a nest for herself, where she lays her young,
      Thine altars, Jehovah of Hosts.
      My King and my God.
   4  Blessed they that dwell in Thy house!
      They will be still praising Thee, Selah.

   5  Blessed the man whose strength is in Thee,
      In whose heart are the ways!
   6  [Who] passing through the valley of weeping make it a place of
                fountains,
      Yea, the early rain covers it with blessings.
   7  They go from strength to strength,
      Each appears before God in Zion.
   8  Jehovah, God of Hosts, hear my prayer,
      Give ear, O God of Jacob. Selah.

   9  [Thou], our shield, behold, O God,
      And look upon the face of Thine anointed.
  10  For better is a day in Thy courts than a thousand,
      Rather would I lie on the threshold in the house of my God,
      Than dwell in the tents of wickedness.
  11  For Jehovah God is sun and shield,
      Grace and glory Jehovah gives,
      No good does He deny to them that walk in integrity.
  12  Jehovah of hosts,
      Blessed the man that trusts in Thee!


The same longing for and delight in the sanctuary which found pathetic
expression in Psalms xlii., xliii., inspire this psalm. Like these,
it is ascribed in the superscription to the Korachites, whose office
of door-keepers in the Temple seems alluded to in ver. 10. To infer,
however, identity of authorship from similarity of tone is hazardous.
The differences are as obvious as the resemblances. As Cheyne well
says, "the notes of the singer of Psalms xlii., xliii., are here
transposed into a different key. It is still 'Te saluto, te suspiro,'
but no longer 'De longinquo te saluto' (to quote Hildebert)." The
longings after God and the sanctuary, in the first part of the
psalm, do not necessarily imply exile from the latter, for they may
be felt when we are nearest to Him, and are, in fact, an element in
that nearness. It is profitless to inquire what were the singer's
circumstances. He expresses the perennial emotions of devout souls,
and his words are as enduring and as universal as the aspirations
which they so perfectly express. No doubt the psalm identifies
enjoyment of God's presence with the worship of the visible sanctuary
more closely than we have to do, but the true object of its longing
is God, and so long as spirit is tied to body the most spiritual
worship will be tied to form. The psalm may serve as a warning against
premature attempts to dispense with outward aids to inward communion.

It is divided into three parts by the Selahs. The last verse of the
first part prepares the way for the first of the second, by sounding
the note of "Blessed they," etc., which is prolonged in ver. 5, The
last verse of the second part (ver. 8) similarly prepares for the
first of the third (ver. 9) by beginning the prayer which is prolonged
there. In each part there is a verse pronouncing blessing on Jehovah's
worshippers, and the variation in the designations of these gives the
key to the progress of thought in the psalm. First comes the blessing
on those who dwell in God's house (ver. 4), and that abiding is the
theme of the first part. The description of those who are thus blessed
is changed, in the second strophe, to "those in whose heart are the
[pilgrim] ways," and the joys of the progress of the soul towards God
are the theme of that strophe. Finally, for dwelling in and journeying
towards the sanctuary is substituted the plain designation of "the man
that trusts in Thee," which trust is the impulse to following after
God and the condition of dwelling with Him; and its joys are the theme
of the third part.

The man who thus interpreted his own psalm had no unworthy conception
of the relation between outward nearness to the sanctuary, and inward
communion with the God who dwelt there. The psalmist's yearning
for the Temple was occasioned by his longing for God. It was God's
presence there which gave it all its beauty. Because they were "Thy
tabernacles," he felt them to be lovely and lovable, for the word
implies both. The abrupt exclamation beginning the psalm is the
breaking into speech of thought which had long increased itself in
silence. The intensity of his desires is expressed very strikingly by
two words, of which the former (_longs_) literally means _grows pale_,
and the latter _fails_, or _is consumed_. His whole being, body and
spirit, is one cry for the living God. The word rendered "cry out" is
usually employed for the shrill cry of joy, and that meaning is by
many retained here. But the cognate noun is not infrequently employed
for any loud or high-pitched call, especially for fervent prayer
(Psalm lxxxviii. 2), and it is better to suppose that this clause
expresses emotion substantially parallel to that of the former one,
than that it makes a contrast to it. "The living God" is an expression
only found in Psalm xlii., and is one of the points of resemblance
between it and this psalm. That Name is more than a contrast with
the gods of the heathen. It lays bare the reason for the psalmist's
longings. By communion with Him who possesses life in its fulness,
and is its fountain for all that live, he will draw supplies of that
"life whereof our veins are scant." Nothing short of a real, living
Person can slake the immortal thirst of the soul, made after God's
own life, and restless till it rests in Him. The surface current
of this singer's desires ran towards the sanctuary; the depth of
them set towards God; and, for the stage of revelation at which he
stood, the deeper was best satisfied through the satisfaction of the
more superficial. The one is modified by the progress of Christian
enlightenment, but the other remains eternally the same. Alas that
the longings of Christian souls for fellowship with God should be so
tepid, as compared with the sacred passion of desire which has found
imperishable utterance in these glowing and most sincere words!

Ver. 3 has been felt to present grammatical difficulties, which need
not detain us here. The easiest explanation is that the happy, winged
creatures who have found resting-places are contrasted by the psalmist
with himself, seeking, homeless amid creation, for his haven of
repose. We have to complete the somewhat fragmentary words with some
supplement before "Thine altars," such as "So would I find," or the
like. To suppose that he represents the swallows as actually nesting
on the altar is impossible, and, if the latter clauses are taken to
describe the places where the birds housed and bred, there is nothing
to suggest the purpose for which the reference to them is introduced.
If, on the other hand, the poet looks with a poet's eye on these lower
creatures at rest in secure shelters, and longs to be like them, in
his repose in the home which his deeper wants make necessary for him,
a noble thought is expressed with adequate poetic beauty. "Foxes have
holes, and birds of the air roosting-places, but the Son of Man hath
not where to lay His head." All creatures find environment suited to
their need, and are at rest in it, man walks like a stranger on earth,
and restlessly seeks for rest. Where but in God is it to be found?
Who that seeks it in Him shall fail to find it? What their nests are
to the swallows, God is to man. The solemnity of the direct address
to God at the close of ver. 3 would be out of place if the altar were
the dwelling of the birds, but is entirely natural if the psalmist is
thinking of the Temple as the home of his spirit. By the accumulation
of sacred and dear names, and by the lovingly reiterated "my," which
claims personal relation to God, he deepens his conviction of the
blessedness which would be his, were he in that abode of his heart,
and lingeringly tells his riches, as a miser might delight to count
his gold, piece by piece.

The first part closes with an exclamation which gathers into one
all-expressive word the joy of communion with God. They who have it
are "blessed," with something more sacred and lasting than happiness,
with something deeper and more tranquil than joy, even with a calm
delight, not altogether unlike the still, yet not stagnant, rest of
supreme felicity which fills the life of the living and ever-blessed
God. That thought is prolonged by the music.

The second strophe (vv. 5-8) is knit to the first, chain-wise, by
taking up again the closing strain, "Blessed the man!" But it turns
the blessedness in another direction. Not only are they blessed who
have found their rest in God, but so also are they who are seeking it.
The goal is sweet, but scarcely less sweet are the steps towards it.
The fruition of God has delights beyond all that earth can give, but
the desire after Him, too, has delights of its own. The experiences
of the soul seeking God in His sanctuary are here cast into the image
of pilgrim bands going up to the Temple. There may be local allusions
in the details. The "ways" in ver. 5 are the pilgrims' paths to the
sanctuary. Hupfeld calls the reading "ways" senseless, and would
substitute "trust"; but such a change is unnecessary, and tasteless.
The condensed expression is not too condensed to be intelligible, and
beautifully describes the true pilgrim spirit. They who are touched
with that desire which impels men to "seek a better country, that is
an heavenly," and to take flight from Time's vanities to the bosom of
God, have ever "the ways" in their hearts. They count the moments lost
during which they linger, or are anywhere but on the road. Amid calls
of lower duties and distractions of many sorts, their desires turn to
the path to God. Like some nomads brought into city life, they are
always longing to escape. The caged eagle sits on the highest point of
his prison, and looks with filmed eye to the free heavens. Hearts that
long for God have an irrepressible instinct stinging them to ever-new
attainments. The consciousness of "not having already attained" is
no pain, when the hope of attaining is strong. Rather, the very
blessedness of life lies in the sense of present imperfection, the
effort for completeness, and the assurance of reaching it.

Ver. 6 is highly imaginative and profoundly true. If a man has "the
ways" in his heart, he will pass through "the valley of weeping,"
and turn it into a "place of fountains." His very tears will fill
the wells. Sorrow borne as a help to pilgrimage changes into joy and
refreshment. The remembrance of past grief nourishes the soul which
is aspiring to God. God puts our tears into His bottle; we lose the
benefit of them, and fail to discern their true intent, unless we
gather them into a well, which may refresh us in many a weary hour
thereafter. If we do, there will be another source of fertility,
plentifully poured out upon our life's path. "The early rain covers
it with blessings." Heaven-descended gifts will not be wanting, nor
the smiling harvests which they quicken and mature. God meets the
pilgrims' love and faith with gently falling influences, which bring
forth rich fruit. Trials borne aright bring down fresh bestowments of
power for fruitful service. Thus possessed of a charm which transforms
grief, and recipients of strength from on high, the pilgrims are
not tired by travel, as others are, but grow stronger day by day,
and their progressive increase in vigour is a pledge that they will
joyously reach their journey's end, and stand in the courts of the
Lord's house. The seekers after God are superior to the law of decay.
It may affect their physical powers, but they are borne up by an
unfulfilled and certain hope, and reinvigorated by continual supplies
from above; and therefore, though in their bodily frame they, like
other men, faint and grow weary, they shall not utterly fail, but,
waiting on Jehovah, "will renew their strength." The fabled fountain
of perpetual youth rises at the foot of God's throne, and its waters
flow to meet those who journey thither.

Such are the elements of the blessedness of those who seek God's
presence; and with that great promise of certain finding of the good
and the God whom they seek, the description and the strophe properly
ends. But just as the first part prepared the way for the second,
so the second does for the third, by breaking forth into prayer. No
wonder that the thoughts which he has been dwelling on should move the
singer to supplication that these blessednesses may be his. According
to some, ver. 8 is the prayer of the pilgrim on arriving in the
Temple, but it is best taken as the psalmist's own.

The final part begins with invocation. In ver. 9 "our shield" is in
apposition to "God," not the object to "behold." It anticipates the
designation of God in ver. 11. But why should the prayer for "Thine
anointed" break in upon the current of thought? Are we to say that
the psalmist "completes his work by some rhythmical but ill-connected
verses" (Cheyne)? There is a satisfactory explanation of the apparently
irrelevant petition, if we accept the view that the psalm, like its
kindred Psalms xlii., xliii., was the work of a companion of David's
in his flight. If so, the king's restoration would be the condition
of satisfying the psalmist's longing for the sanctuary. Any other
hypothesis as to his date and circumstances fails to supply a connecting
link between the main subject of the psalm and this petition. The "For"
at the beginning of ver. 10 favours such a view, since it gives the
delights of the house of the Lord, and the psalmist's longing to share
in them, as the reasons for his prayer that Jehovah would look upon the
face of His anointed. In that verse he glides back to the proper theme
of the psalm. Life is to be estimated, not according to its length, but
according to the richness of its contents. Time is elastic. One crowded
moment is better than a millennium of languid years. And nothing fills
life so full or stretches the hours to hold so much of real living, as
communion with God, which works, on those who have plunged into its
depths, some assimilation to the timeless life of Him with whom "one day
is as a thousand years." There may be a reference to the Korachites'
function of door-keepers, in that touchingly beautiful choice of the
psalmist's, rather to lie on the threshold of the Temple than to dwell
in the tents of wickedness. Whether there is or not, the sentiment
breathes sweet humility, and deliberate choice. Just as the poet has
declared that the briefest moment of communion is in his sight to be
preferred to years of earthly delight, so he counts the humblest office
in the sanctuary, and the lowest place there, if only it is within the
doorway, as better than aught besides. The least degree of fellowship
with God has delights superior to the greatest measure of worldly joys.
And this man, knowing that, chose accordingly. How many of us know it,
and yet cannot say with him, "Rather would I lie on the door-sill of the
Temple than sit in the chief places of the world's feasts!"

Such a choice is the only rational one. It is the choice of supreme
good, correspondent to man's deepest needs, and lasting as his being.
Therefore the psalmist vindicates his preference, and encourages
himself in it, by the thoughts in ver. 11, which he introduces with
"For." Because God is what He is, and gives what He gives, it is the
highest wisdom to take Him for our true good, and never to let Him go.
He is "sun and shield." This is the only place in which He is directly
called a sun, though the idea conveyed is common. He is "the master
light of all our seeing," the fountain of warmth, illumination, and
life. His beams are too bright for human eyes to gaze on, but their
effluence is the joy of creation. They who look to Him "shall not
walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." What folly to
choose darkness rather than light, and, when that Sun is high in the
heavens, ready to flood our hearts with its beams, to prefer to house
ourselves in gloomy caverns of our own sad thoughts and evil doings!
Another reason for the psalmist's choice is that God is a shield.
(Compare ver. 9.) Who that knows the dangers and foes that cluster
thick round every life can wisely refuse to shelter behind that ample
and impenetrable buckler? It is madness to stand in the open field,
with arrows whizzing invisible all round, when one step, one heartfelt
desire, would place that sure defence between us and every peril. God
being such, "grace and glory" will flow from Him to those who seek
Him. These two are given simultaneously, not, as sometimes supposed,
in succession, as though grace were the sum of gifts for earth, and
glory the all-comprehending expression for the higher bestowments of
heaven. The psalmist thinks that both are possessed here. _Grace_ is
the sum of God's gifts, coming from His loving regard to His sinful
and inferior creatures. _Glory_ is the reflection of His own lustrous
perfection, which irradiates lives that are turned to Him, and makes
them shine, as a poor piece of broken pottery will, when the sunlight
falls on it. Since God is the sum of all good, to possess Him is
to possess it all. The one gift unfolds into all things lovely and
needful. It is the raw material, as it were, out of which can be
shaped, according to transient and multiform needs, everything that
can be desired or can bless a soul.

But high as is the psalmist's flight of mystic devotion, he does not
soar so far as to lose sight of plain morality, as mystics have often
been apt to do. It is the man who walks in his integrity who may hope
to receive these blessings. "Without holiness no man shall see the
Lord"; and neither access to His house nor the blessings flowing from
His presence can belong to him who is faithless to his own convictions
of duty. The pilgrim paths are paths of righteousness. The psalmist's
last word translates his metaphors of dwelling in and travelling
towards the house of Jehovah into their simple meaning, "Blessed is
the man that _trusteth_ in Thee." That trust both seeks and finds God.
There has never been but one way to His presence, and that is the way
of trust. "I am the way.... No man cometh to the Father but by Me."
So coming, we shall find, and then shall seek more eagerly and find
more fully, and thus shall possess at once the joys of fruition and of
desires always satisfied, never satiated, but continually renewed.




                              PSALM LXXXV.

   1  Thou hast become favourable, Jehovah, to Thy land,
      Thou hast turned back the captivity of Jacob.
   2  Thou hast taken away the iniquity of Thy people,
      Thou hast covered all their sin.
   3  Thou hast drawn in all Thy wrath,
      Thou hast turned Thyself from the glow of Thine anger.

   4  Turn us, O God of our salvation,
      And cause Thine indignation towards us to cease.
   5  For ever wilt Thou be angry with us?
      Wilt Thou stretch out Thine anger to generation after generation?
   6  Wilt Thou not revive us again,
      That Thy people may rejoice in Thee?
   7  Show us, Jehovah, Thy loving-kindness,
      And give us Thy salvation.

   8  I will hear what God, Jehovah, will speak,
      For He will speak peace to His people and to His favoured [ones];
      Only let them not turn again to folly.
   9  Surely near to them who fear Him is His salvation,
      That glory may dwell in our land.
  10  Loving-kindness and Troth have met together,
      Righteousness and Peace have kissed [each other],
  11  Troth springs from the earth,
      And Righteousness looks down from heaven.
  12  Yea, Jehovah will give that which is good,
      And our land will give her increase.
  13  Righteousness shall go before Him,
      And shall make His footsteps a way.


The outstanding peculiarity of this psalm is its sudden transitions
of feeling. Beginning with exuberant thanksgiving for restoration of
the nation (vv. 1-3), it passes, without intermediate gradations, to
complaints of God's continued wrath and entreaties for restoration
(vv. 4-7), and then as suddenly rises to joyous assurance of inward
and outward blessings. The condition of the exiles returned from
Babylon best corresponds to such conflicting emotions. The book of
Nehemiah supplies precisely such a background as fits the psalm. A
part of the nation had returned indeed, but to a ruined city, a fallen
Temple, and a mourning land, where they were surrounded by jealous and
powerful enemies. Discouragement had laid hold on the feeble company;
enthusiasm had ebbed away; the harsh realities of their enterprise
had stripped off its imaginative charm; and the mass of the returned
settlers had lost heart as well as devout faith. The psalm accurately
reflects such a state of circumstances and feelings, and may, with
some certitude, be assigned, as it is by most commentators, to the
period of return from exile.

It falls into three parts, of increasing length,--the first, of three
verses (vv. 1-3), recounts God's acts of mercy already received; the
second, of four verses (vv. 4-7), is a plaintive prayer in view of
still remaining national afflictions; and the third, of six verses, a
glad report by the psalmist of the Divine promises which his waiting
ear had heard, and which might well quicken the most faint-hearted
into triumphant hope.

In the first strophe one great fact is presented in a threefold
aspect, and traced wholly to Jehovah. "Thou hast turned back the
captivity of Jacob." That expression is sometimes used in a figurative
sense for any restoration of prosperity, but is here to be taken
literally. Now, as at first, the restored Israel, like their
ancestors under Joshua, had not won the land by their own arm, but
"because God had a favour unto them," and had given them favour in the
eyes of those who carried them captive. The restoration of the Jews,
seen from the conqueror's point of view, was a piece of state policy,
but from that of the devout Israelite was the result of God's working
upon the heart of the new ruler of Babylon. The fact is stated in ver.
1; a yet more blessed fact, of which it is most blessed as being a
token, is declared in ver. 2.

The psalmist knows that captivity had been chastisement, the issue of
national sin. Therefore he is sure that restoration is the sign of
forgiveness. His thoughts are running in the same line as in Isa. xl.
2, where the proclamation to Jerusalem that her iniquity is pardoned
is connected with the assurance that her hard service is accomplished.
He uses two significant words for pardon, both of which occur in Psalm
xxxii. In ver. 2 _a_ sin is regarded as a weight pressing down the
nation, which God's mercy lifts off and takes away; in ver. 2 _b_ it
is conceived of as a hideous stain or foulness, which His mercy hides,
so that it is no longer an offence to heaven. Ver. 3 ventures still
deeper into the sacred recesses of the Divine nature, and traces the
forgiveness, which in act had produced so happy a change in Israel's
position, to its source in a change in God's disposition. "Thou hast
drawn in all Thy wrath," as a man does his breath, or, if the comparison
may be ventured, as some creature armed with a sting retracts it into
its sheath. "Thou hast turned Thyself from the glow of Thine anger"
gives the same idea under another metaphor. The word turn has a singular
fascination for this psalmist. He uses it five times (vv. 1, 3, 4,
6--_lit._, wilt Thou not turn, quicken us?--and 8). God's turning from
His anger is the reason for Israel's returning from captivity.

The abruptness of the transition from joyous thanksgiving to the sad
minor of lamentation and supplication is striking, but most natural,
if the psalmist was one of the band of returning exiles, surrounded
by the ruins of a happier past, and appalled by the magnitude of the
work before them, the slenderness of their resources, and the fierce
hostility of their neighbours. The prayer of ver. 4, "Turn us," is
best taken as using the word in the same sense as in ver. 1, where
God is said to have "turned" the captivity of Jacob. What was there
regarded as accomplished is here conceived of as still to be done.
That is, the restoration was incomplete, as we know that it was, both
in regard to the bulk of the nation, who still remained in exile, and
in regard to the depressed condition of the small part of it which had
gone back to Palestine. In like manner the petitions of ver. 5 look
back to ver. 3, and pray that the anger which there had been spoken
of as passed may indeed utterly cease. The partial restoration of the
people implied, in the psalmist's view, a diminution rather than a
cessation of God's punitive wrath, and he beseeches Him to complete
that which He had begun.

The relation of the first to the second strophe is not only that of
contrast, but the prayers of the latter are founded upon the facts of
the former, which constitute both grounds for the suppliant's hope
of answer and pleas with God. He cannot mean to deliver by halves.
The mercies received are incomplete; and His work must be perfect. He
cannot be partially reconciled, nor have meant to bring His people
back to the land, and then leave them to misery. So the contrast
between the bright dawning of the Return and its clouded day is not
wholly depressing; for the remembrance of what has been heartens for
the assurance that what is shall not always be, but will be followed
by a future more correspondent to God's purpose as shown in that past.
When we are tempted to gloomy thoughts by the palpable incongruities
between God's ideals and man's realisation of them, we may take a hint
from this psalmist, and, instead of concluding that the ideal was a
phantasm, argue with ourselves that the incomplete actual will one day
give way to the perfect embodiment. God leaves no work unfinished. He
never leaves off till He has done. His beginnings guarantee congruous
endings. He does not half withdraw His anger; and, if He seems to
do so, it is only because men have but half turned from their sins.
This psalm is rich in teaching as to the right way of regarding the
incompleteness of great movements which, in their incipient stages,
were evidently of God. It instructs us to keep the Divine intervention
which started them clearly in view; to make the shortcomings, which
mar them, a subject of lowly prayer; and to be sure that all which He
begins He will finish, and that the end will fully correspond to the
promise of the beginning. A "day of the Lord" which rose in brightness
may cloud over as its hours roll, but "at eventide it shall be light,"
and none of the morning promise will be unfulfilled.

The third strophe (vv. 8-13) brings solid hopes, based upon Divine
promises, to bear on present discouragements. In ver. 8 the psalmist,
like Habakkuk (ii. 1), encourages himself to listen to what God will
speak. The word "I will hear" expresses resolve or desire, and might
be rendered _Let me hear_, or _I would hear_. Faithful prayer will
always be followed by patient and faithful waiting for response from
God. God will not be silent, when His servant appeals to Him with
recognition of His past mercies, joined with longing that these may
be perfected. No voice will break the silence of the heavens; but, in
the depths of the waiting soul, there will spring a sweet assurance
which comes from God, and is really His answer to prayer, telling
the suppliant that "He will speak peace to His people," and warning
them not to turn away from Him to other helps, which is folly. "His
favoured ones" seems here to be meant as coextensive with "His
people." Israel is regarded as having entered into covenant relations
with God; and the designation is the pledge that what God speaks will
be "peace." That word is to be taken in its widest sense, as meaning,
first and chiefly, peace with Him, who has "turned Himself from His
anger"; and then, generally, well-being of all kinds, outward and
inward, as a consequence of that rectified relation with God.

The warning of ver. 8 _c_ is thought by some to be out of place, and
an emendation has been suggested, which requires little change in the
Hebrew--namely, "to those who have turned their hearts towards Him."
This reading is supported by the LXX.; but the warning is perfectly
appropriate, and carries a large truth--that the condition of God's
speaking of peace is our firm adherence to Him. Once more the psalmist
uses his favourite word "turn." God had turned the captivity; He had
turned Himself from His anger; the psalmist had prayed Him to turn
or restore the people, and to turn and revive them, and now He warns
against turning again to folly. There is always danger of relapse in
those who have experienced God's delivering mercy. There is a blessed
turning, when they are brought from the far-off land to dwell near
God. But there is a possible fatal turning away from the Voice that
speaks peace, and the Arm that brings salvation, to the old distance
and bondage. Strange that any ears, which have heard the sweetness of
His still small Voice whispering Peace, should wish to stray where it
cannot be heard! Strange that the warning should ever be required, and
tragic that it should so often be despised!

After the introductory ver. 8, the substance of what Jehovah spoke
to the psalmist is proclaimed in the singer's own words. The first
assurance which the psalmist drew from the Divine word was that God's
salvation, the whole fulness of His delivering grace both in regard
to external and in inward evils, is ever near to them that fear
Him. "Salvation" here is to be taken in its widest sense. It means,
negatively, deliverance from all possible evils, outward and inward;
and, positively, endowment with all possible good, both for body and
spirit. With such fulness of complete blessings, they, and they only,
who keep near to God, and refuse to turn aside to foolish confidences,
shall be enriched. That is the inmost meaning of what God said to
the psalmist; and it is said to all. And that salvation being thus
possessed, it would be possible for "glory"--_i.e._, the manifest
presence of God, as in the Shechinah--to tabernacle in the land.
The condition of God's dwelling with men is their acceptance of His
salvation. That purifies hearts to be temples.

The lovely personifications in vv. 10-13 have passed into Christian
poetry and art, but are not clearly apprehended when they are taken
to describe the harmonious meeting and co-operation, in Christ's
great work, of apparently opposing attributes of the Divine nature.
No such thoughts are in the psalmist's mind. Loving-kindness and
Faithfulness or Troth are constantly associated in Scripture as
Divine attributes. Righteousness and Peace are as constantly united,
as belonging to the perfection of human character. Ver. 10 seems to
refer to the manifestation of God's Loving-kindness and Faithfulness
in its first clause, and to the exhibition of His people's virtues
and consequent happiness in its second. In all God's dealings for
His people, His Loving-kindness blends with Faithfulness. In all His
people's experience Righteousness and Peace are inseparable. The point
of the assurance in ver. 10 is that heaven and earth are blended in
permanent amity. These four radiant angels "dwell in the land." Then,
in ver. 11, there comes a beautiful inversion of the two pairs of
personifications, of each of which one member only reappears. Troth or
Faithfulness, which in ver. 10 came into view principally as a Divine
attribute, in ver. 11 is conceived of as a human virtue. It "springs
out of the earth"--that is, is produced among men. All human virtue is
an echo of the Divine, and they who have received into their hearts
the blessed results of God's Faithfulness will bring forth in their
lives fruits like it in kind. Similarly, Righteousness, which in ver.
10 was mainly viewed as a human excellence, here appears as dwelling
in and looking down from heaven, like a gracious angel smiling on the
abundance of Faithfulness which springs from earth. Thus "the bridal
of the earth and sky" is set forth in these verses.

The same idea is further presented in ver. 12, in its most general form.
God gives that which is good, both outward and inward blessings, and,
thus fructified by bestowments from above, earth yields her increase.
His gifts precede men's returns. Without sunshine and rain there are no
harvests. More widely still, God gives first before He asks. He does not
gather where He has not strawed, nor reap what He has not sown. Nor does
He only sow, but He "blesses the springing thereof"; and to Him should
the harvest be rendered. He gives before we can give. Isa. xlv. 8 is
closely parallel, representing in like manner the co-operation of heaven
and earth, in the new world of Messianic times.

In ver. 13 the thought of the blending of heaven and earth, or of
Divine attributes as being the foundation and parents of their human
analogues, is still more vividly expressed. Righteousness, which in
ver. 10 was regarded as exercised by men, and in ver. 11 as looking
down from heaven, is now represented both as a herald preceding God's
royal progress, and as following in His footsteps. The last clause is
rendered in different ways, which all have the same general sense.
Probably the rendering above is best: "Righteousness shall make His
footsteps a way"--that is, for men to walk in. All God's workings
among men, which are poetically conceived as His way, have stamped
on them Righteousness. That strong angel goes before Him to clear
a path for Him, and trace the course which He shall take. That is
the imaginative expression of the truth--that absolute, inflexible
Righteousness guides all the Divine acts. But the same Righteousness,
which precedes, also follows Him, and points His footsteps as the way
for us. The incongruity of this double position of God's herald makes
the force of the thought greater. It is the poetical embodiment of the
truth, that the perfection of man's character and conduct lies in his
being an "imitator of God," and that, however different in degree, our
righteousness must be based on His. What a wonderful thought that is,
that the union between heaven and earth is so close that God's path is
our way! How deep into the foundation of ethics the psalmist's glowing
vision pierces! How blessed the assurance that God's Righteousness is
revealed from heaven to make men righteous!

Our psalm needs the completion, which tells of that gospel in which
"the Righteousness of God from faith is revealed for faith." In Jesus
the "glory" has tabernacled among men. He has brought heaven and
earth together. In Him God's Loving-kindness and Faithfulness have
become denizens of earth, as never before. In Him heaven has emptied
its choicest good on earth. Through Him our barrenness and weeds
are changed into harvests of love, praise, and service. In Him the
Righteousness of God is brought near; and, trusting in Him, each of us
may tread in His footsteps, and have His Righteousness fulfilled in us
"who walk, not after the flesh, but after the spirit."




                             PSALM LXXXVI.

   1  Bow down Thine ear, Jehovah, answer me,
      For I am afflicted and poor.
   2  Keep my soul, for I am favoured [by Thee],
      Save Thy servant, O Thou my God,
      That trusts in Thee.
   3  Be gracious to me, Lord,
      For to Thee I cry all the day.
   4  Rejoice the soul of Thy servant,
      For to Thee, Lord, do I lift up my soul.
   5  For Thou, Lord, art good and forgiving,
      And plenteous in loving-kindness to all who call on Thee.

   6  Give ear, Jehovah, to my prayer,
      And take heed to the voice of my supplications.
   7  In the day of my straits will I call [on] Thee,
      For Thou wilt answer me.
   8  There is none like Thee among the gods, O Lord,
      And no [works] like Thy works.
   9  All nations whom Thou hast made
      Shall come and bow themselves before Thee,
      And shall give glory to Thy Name,
  10  For great art Thou and doest wonders,
      Thou art God alone.
  11  Teach me, Jehovah, Thy way,
      I will walk in Thy troth,
      Unite my heart to fear Thy Name.
  12  I will thank Thee, O Lord my God, with all my heart,
      And I will glorify Thy Name for ever.
  13  For Thy loving-kindness is great towards me,
      And Thou hast delivered my soul from Sheol beneath.

  14  O God, the proud have risen against me,
      And a crew of violent men have sought after my soul,
      And have not set Thee before them.
  15  But Thou, Lord, art a God compassionate and gracious,
      Long-suffering and plenteous in loving-kindness and troth.
  16  Turn to me and be gracious to me,
      Give Thy strength to Thy servant,
      And save the son of Thy handmaid.
  17  Work for me a sign for good,
      That they who hate me may see and be ashamed,
      For Thou, Jehovah, hast helped me and comforted me.


This psalm is little more than a mosaic of quotations and familiar
phrases of petition. But it is none the less individual, nor is the
psalmist less heavily burdened, or less truly beseeching and trustful,
because he casts his prayer into well-worn words. God does not give
"originality" to every devout man; and He does not require it as a
condition of accepted prayer. Humble souls, who find in more richly
endowed men's words the best expression of their own needs, may be
encouraged by such a psalm. Critics may think little of it, as a mere
cento; but God does not refuse to bow His ear, though He is asked to
do so in borrowed words. A prayer full of quotations may be heartfelt,
and then it will be heard and answered. This psalmist has not only
shown his intimate acquaintance with earlier devotional words, but
he has woven his garland with much quiet beauty, and has blended its
flowers into a harmony of colour all his own.

There is no fully developed strophical arrangement but there is a
discernible flow of thought, and the psalm may be regarded as falling
into three parts.

The first of these (vv. 1-5) is a series of petitions, each supported
by a plea. The petitions are the well-worn ones which spring from
universal need, and there is a certain sequence in them. They begin
with "Bow down Thine ear," the first of a suppliant's desires, which,
as it were, clears the way for those which follow. Trusting that he
will not ask in vain, the psalmist then prays that God would "keep"
his soul as a watchful guardian or sentry does, and that, as the
result of such care, he may be saved from impending perils. Nor do his
desires limit themselves to deliverance. They rise to more inward and
select manifestations of God's heart of tenderness, for the prayer "Be
gracious" asks for such, and so goes deeper into the blessedness of the
devout life than the preceding. And the crown of all these requests
is "Rejoice the soul of Thy servant," with the joy which flows from
experience of outward deliverance and of inward whispers of God's
grace, heard in the silent depths of communion with Him. It matters not
that every petition has parallels in other psalms, which this singer
is quoting. His desires are none the less his, because they have been
shared by a company of devout souls before him. His expression of them
is none the less his, because his very words have been uttered by
others. There is rest in thus associating oneself with an innumerable
multitude who have "cried to God and been lightened." The petition in
ver. 1 is like that in Psalm lv. 2. Ver. 2 sounds like a reminiscence of
Psalm xxv. 20; ver. 3 closely resembles Psalm lvii. 1.

The pleas on which the petitions are grounded are also beautifully
wreathed together. First, the psalmist asks to be heard because he
is afflicted and poor (compare Psalm xl. 17). Our need is a valid
plea with a faithful God. The sense of it drives us to Him; and
our recognition of poverty and want must underlie all faithful
appeal to Him. The second plea is capable of two interpretations.
The psalmist says that he is _Chasid_; and that word is by some
commentators taken to mean _one who exercises_, and by others _one
who is the subject of, Chesed_--_i.e._, loving-kindness. As has
been already remarked on Psalm iv. 3, the passive meaning--_i.e._,
one to whom God's loving-kindness is shown--is preferable. Here it
is distinctly better than the other. The psalmist is not presenting
his own character as a plea, but urging God's gracious relation to
him, which, once entered on, pledges God to unchanging continuance
in manifesting His loving-kindness. But, though the psalmist does
not plead his character, he does, in the subsequent pleas, present
his faith, his daily and day-long prayers, and his lifting of his
desires, aspirations, and whole self above the trivialities of earth
to set them on God. These are valid pleas with Him. It cannot be that
trust fixed on Him should be disappointed, nor that cries perpetually
rising to His ears should be unanswered, nor that a soul stretching
its tendrils heavenward should fail to find the strong stay, round
which it can cling and climb. God owns the force of such appeals, and
delights to be moved to answer, by the spreading before Him of His
servant's faith and longings.

But all the psalmist's other pleas are merged at last in that one
contained in ver. 5, where he gazes on the revealed Name of God, and
thinks of Him as He had been described of old, and as this suppliant
delights to set to his seal that he has found Him to be--good and
placable, and rich in loving-kindness. God is His own motive, and
Faith can find nothing mightier to urge with God, nor any surer answer
to its own doubts to urge with itself, than the unfolding of all that
lies in the Name of the Lord. These pleas, like the petitions which
they support, are largely echoes of older words. "Afflicted and poor"
comes, as just noticed, from Psalm xl. 17. The designation of "one
whom God favours" is from Psalm iv. 3. "Unto Thee do I lift up my
soul" is taken verbatim from Psalm xxv. 1. The explication of the
contents of the Name of the Lord, like the fuller one in ver. 15, is
based upon Exod. xxxiv. 6.

Vv. 6-13 may be taken together, as the prayer proper, to which vv. 1-5
are introductory. In them there is, first, a repetition of the cry
for help, and of the declaration of need (vv. 6, 7); then a joyful
contemplation of God's unapproachable majesty and works, which insure
the ultimate recognition of His Name by all nations (vv. 8-10);
then a profoundly and tenderly spiritual prayer for guidance and
consecration--wants more pressing still than outward deliverance (ver.
11); and, finally, as in so many psalms, anticipatory thanksgivings
for deliverance yet future, but conceived of as present by vivid faith.

Echoes of earlier psalms sound through the whole; but the general
impression is not that of imitation, but of genuine personal need
and devotion. Ver. 7 is like Psalm xvii. 6 and other passages; ver.
8 _a_ is from Exod. xv. 11; ver. 8 _b_ is modelled on Deut. iii. 24;
ver. 9, on Psalm xxii. 27; ver. 11 _a_, on Psalm xxvii. 11; ver. 11
_b_, on Psalm xxvi. 3; "Sheol beneath" is from Deut. xxxii. 22. But,
withal, there are unity and progress in this cento of citations. The
psalmist begins with reiterating his cry that God would hear, and in
ver. 7 advances to the assurance that He will. Then in vv. 8-10 he
turns from all his other pleas to dwell on his final one (ver. 5) of
the Divine character. As, in the former verse, he had rested his calm
hope on God's willingness to help, so now he strengthens himself, in
assurance of an answer, by the thought of God's unmatched power, the
unique majesty of His works and His sole Divinity. Ver. 8 might seem
to assert only Jehovah's supremacy above other gods of the heathen;
but ver. 10 shows that the psalmist speaks the language of pure
Monotheism. Most naturally the prophetic assurance that all nations
shall come and worship Him is deduced from His sovereign power and
incomparableness. It cannot be that "the nations whom Thou hast made"
shall for ever remain ignorant of the hand that made them. Sooner or
later that great character shall be seen by all men in its solitary
elevation; and universal praise shall correspond to His sole Divinity.

The thought of God's sovereign power carries the psalmist beyond
remembrance of his immediate outward needs, and stirs higher desires
in him. Hence spring the beautiful and spiritual petitions of ver.
11, which seek for clearer insight into God's will concerning the
psalmist's conduct, breathe aspirations after a "walk" in that
God-appointed way and in "Thy troth," and culminate in one of the
sweetest and deepest prayers of the Psalter: "Unite my heart to fear
Thy Name." There, at least, the psalmist speaks words borrowed from
no other, but springing fresh from his heart's depths. Jer. xxxii. 39
is the nearest parallel, and the commandment in Deut. vi. 5, to love
God "with all thine heart," may have been in the psalmist's mind; but
the prayer is all his own. He has known the misery of a divided heart,
the affections and purposes of which are drawn in manifold directions,
and are arrayed in conflict against each other. There is no peace
nor blessedness, neither is any nobility of life possible, without
whole-hearted devotion to one great object; and there is no object
capable of evoking such devotion or worthy to receive it, except Him
who is "God alone." Divided love is no love. It must be "all in
all, or not at all." With deep truth, the command to love God with
all the heart is based upon His Unity--"Hear, O Israel: The Lord thy
God is one Lord; and thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine
heart" (Deut. vi. 4). The very conception of religion requires that
it should be exclusive, and should dominate the whole nature. It is
only God who is great enough to fill and engage all our capacities.
Only the mass of the central sun is weighty enough to make giant
orbs its satellites, and to wheel them in their courses. There is
no tranquillity nor any power in lives frittered away on a thousand
petty loves. The river that breaks into a multitude of channels is
sucked up in the sand without reaching the ocean, and has no force in
its current to scour away obstructions. Concentration makes strong
men; consecration makes saints. "This one thing I do" is the motto
of all who have done anything worthy. "Unite my heart to fear Thy
Name" is the prayer of all whose devotion is worthy of its object,
and is the source of joy and power to themselves. The psalmist asks
for a heart made one with itself in the fear of God, and then vows
that, with that united heart, he will praise his delivering God. As
in many other psalms, he anticipates the answers to his prayers, and
in ver. 13 speaks of God's loving-kindness as freshly manifested to
him, and of deliverance from the dismal depths of the unseen world,
which threatened to swallow him up. It seems more in accordance with
the usage in similar psalms to regard ver. 13 as thus recounting,
with prophetic certainty, the coming deliverance as if it were
accomplished, than to suppose that in it the psalmist is falling back
on former instances of God's rescuing grace.

In the closing part (vv. 14-17), the psalmist describes more precisely
his danger. He is surrounded by a rabble rout of proud and violent
men, whose enmity to him is, as in so many of the psalms of persecuted
singers, a proof of their forgetfulness of God. Right against this rapid
outline of his perils, he sets the grand unfolding of the character of
God in ver. 15. It is still fuller than that in ver. 5, and, like it,
rests on Exod. xxxiv. Such juxtaposition is all that is needed to show
how little he has to fear from the hostile crew. On one hand are they,
in their insolence and masterfulness, eagerly hunting after his life;
on the other is God with His infinite pity and loving-kindness. Happy
are they who can discern high above dangers and foes the calm presence
of the only God, and, with hearts undistracted and undismayed, can
oppose to all that assails them the impenetrable shield of the Name
of the Lord! It concerns our peaceful fronting of the darker facts of
life, that we cultivate the habit of never looking at dangers or sorrows
without seeing the helping God beside and above them.

The psalm ends with prayer for present help. If God is, as the
psalmist has seen Him to be, "full of compassion and gracious," it
is no presumptuous petition that the streams of these perfections
should be made to flow towards a needy suppliant. "Be gracious to
_me_" asks that the light, which pours through the universe, may fall
on one heart, which is surrounded by earth-born darkness. As in the
introductory verses, so in the closing petitions, the psalmist grounds
his prayer principally on God's manifested character, and secondarily
on his own relation to God. Thus in ver. 16 he pleads that he is God's
servant, and "the son of Thy handmaid" (compare Psalm cxvi. 16). That
expression does not imply any special piety in the psalmist's mother,
but pleads his hereditary relation as servant to God, or, in other
words, his belonging by birth to Israel, as a reason for his prayers
being heard. His last petition for "a sign" does not necessarily mean
a miracle, but a clear manifestation of God's favour, which might
be as unmistakably shown by an every-day event as by a supernatural
intervention. To the devout heart, all common things are from God, and
bear witness for Him. Even blind eyes and hard hearts may be led to
see and feel that God is the helper and comforter of humble souls who
trust in Him. A heart that is made at peace with itself by the fear
of God, and has but one dominant purpose and desire, will long for
God's mercies, not only because they have a bearing on its own outward
well-being, but because they will demonstrate that it is no vain thing
to wait on the Lord, and may lead some, who cherished enmity to God's
servant and alienation from Himself, to learn the sweetness of His
Name and the security of trust in Him.




                             PSALM LXXXVII.

  1  His foundation on the holy mountains,
  2  The gates of Zion Jehovah loves
     More than all the dwellings of Jacob.
  3  Glorious things are spoken of thee, O city of God. Selah.

  4  I will proclaim Rahab and Babylon as those who know Me:
     "Behold Philistia and Tyre, with Cush;
     This one was born there."
  5  And of Zion it shall be said,
     "Man after man was born in her,"
     And He, the Most High, shall establish her.
  6  Jehovah shall reckon when He writes down the peoples,
     "This one was born there." Selah.

  7  And singers and dancers [shall chant],
     "All my fountains are in Thee."


One clear note sounds in this remarkable psalm. Its single theme
is the incorporation of ancestral foes and distant nations with
the people of God. Aliens are to be enrolled as home-born citizens
of Jerusalem. In modern words, the vision of a universal Church,
a brotherhood of humanity, shines radiant before the seer. Other
psalmists and prophets have like insight into the future expansion
of the nation, but this psalm stands alone in the emphasis which it
places upon the idea of birth into the rights of citizenship. This
singer has had granted to him a glimpse of two great truths--the
universality of the Church, and the mode of entrance into it by
reception of a new life. To what age of Israel he belonged is
uncertain. The mention of Babylon as among the enemies who have become
fellow-citizens favours the supposition of a post-exilic date, which
is also supported by resemblances to Isa. xl.-lxvi.

The structure is simple. The psalm is divided by Selah into two
strophes, to which a closing verse is appended. The first strophe
bursts abruptly into rapturous praise of Zion, the beloved of God. The
second predicts the gathering of all nations into her citizenship, and
the closing verse apparently paints the exuberant joy of the festal
crowds, who shall then throng her streets.

The abrupt beginning of the first strophe offends some commentators,
who have tried to smooth ver. 1 into propriety and tameness, by
suggesting possible preliminary clauses, which they suppose to have
dropped out. But there is no canon which forbids a singer, with the
rush of inspiration, either poetic or other, on him, to plunge into
the heart of his theme. Ver. 1 may be construed, as in the A.V. and
R.V. (text), as a complete sentence, but is then somewhat feeble. It
is better to connect it with ver. 2, and to regard "His foundation
upon the holy mountains" as parallel with "the gates of Zion," and
as, like that phrase, dependent on the verb "loves." Hupfeld, indeed,
proposes to transfer "Jehovah loves" from the beginning of ver. 2,
where it now stands, to the end of ver. 1, supplying the verb mentally
in the second clause. He thus gets a complete parallelism:--

          His foundation upon the holy mountains Jehovah loves,
          The gates of Zion before all the dwellings of Jacob.

But this is not necessary; for the verb may as well be supplied to the
first as to the second clause. The harshness of saying "His foundation,"
without designating the person to whom the pronoun refers, which is
extreme if ver. 1 is taken as a separate sentence, is diminished when it
is regarded as connected with ver. 2, in which the mention of Jehovah
leaves no doubt as to whose the "foundation" is. The psalmist's fervent
love for Jerusalem is something more than national pride. It is the
apotheosis of that emotion, clarified and hallowed into religion. Zion
is founded by God Himself. The mountains on which it stands are made
holy by the Divine dwelling. On their heads shines a glory before which
the light that lies on the rock crowned by the Parthenon or on the seven
hills of Rome pales. Not only the Temple mountain is meant, but the city
is the psalmist's theme. The hills, on which it stands, are emblems
of the firmness of its foundation in the Divine purpose, on which it
reposes. It is beloved of God, and that, as the form of the word "loves"
shows, with an abiding affection. The "glorious things" which are spoken
of Zion may be either the immediately following Divine oracle, or,
more probably, prophetic utterances such as many of those in Isaiah,
which predict its future glory. The Divine utterance which follows
expresses the substance of these. So far, the psalm is not unlike other
outpourings in praise of Zion, such as Psalm xlviii. But, in the second
strophe, to which the first is introductory, the singer strikes a note
all his own.

There can be no doubt as to who is the speaker in ver. 4. The abrupt
introduction of a Divine Oracle accords with a not infrequent usage in
the Psalter, which adds much to the solemnity of the words. If we regard
the "glorious things" mentioned in ver. 3 as being the utterances of
earlier prophets, the psalmist has had his ears purged to hear God's
voice, by meditation on and sympathy with these. The faithful use of
what God has said prepares for hearing further disclosures of His lips.
The enumeration of nations in ver. 4 carries a great lesson. First
comes the ancient enemy, Egypt, designated by the old name of contempt
(Rahab, _i.e._ pride), but from which the contempt has faded; then
follows Babylon, the more recent inflicter of many miseries, once so
detested, but towards whom animosity has died down. These two, as the
chief oppressors, between whom, like a piece of metal between hammer and
anvil, Israel's territory lay, are named first, with the astonishing
declaration that God will proclaim them as among those who know Him.
That knowledge, of course, is not merely intellectual, but the deeper
knowledge of personal acquaintance or friendship--a knowledge of which
love is an element, and which is vital and transforming. Philistia is
the old neighbour and foe, which from the beginning had hung on the
skirts of Israel, and been ever ready to utilise her disasters and
add to them. Tyre is the type of godless luxury and inflated material
prosperity, and, though often in friendly alliance with Israel, as being
exposed to the same foes which harassed her, she was as far from knowing
God as the other nations were. Cush, or Ethiopia, seems mentioned as
a type of distant peoples, rather than because of its hostility to
Israel. God points to these nations--some of them near, some remote,
some powerful and some feeble, some hereditarily hostile and some more
or less amicable with Israel--and gives forth the declaration concerning
them, "This one was born there."

God's voice ceases, and in ver. 5 the psalmist takes up the
wonderful promise which he has just heard. He slightly shifts his
point of view: for while the nations that were to be gathered into
Zion were the foremost figures in the Divine utterance, the Zion
into which they are gathered is foremost in the psalmist's, in ver.
5. Its glory, when thus enriched by a multitude of new citizens,
bulks in his eyes more largely than their blessedness. Another shade
of difference between the two verses is that, in the former, the
ingathering of the peoples is set forth as collective or national
incorporation, and, in me latter,--as the expression "man after (or
_by_) man" suggests,--individual accession is more clearly foretold.
The establishment of Zion, which the psalmist prophesies, is the
result of her reinforcement by these new citizens. The grand figure
of ver. 6 pictures God as taking a census of the whole world; for it
is "the peoples" whom He numbers. As he writes down each name, He
says concerning it, "This one was born there." That list of citizens
is "the Book of the Living." So "the end of all history is that Zion
becomes the metropolis of all people" (Delitzsch).

Three great truths had dawned on this psalmist, though their full
light was reserved for the Christian era. He had been led to apprehend
that the Jewish Church would expand into a world-wide community. If
one thinks of the gulfs of hatred and incompatibility which parted
the peoples in his day, his clear utterance of that great truth, the
apprehension of which so far transcended his time, and the realisation
of which so far transcends ours, will surely be seen to be due to a
Divine breath. The broadest New Testament expression of Universalism
does not surpass the psalmist's confident certainty, "There is neither
Greek nor Jew, barbarian, Scythian," says no more than he said. More
remarkable still is his conception of the method by which the nations
should be gathered in to Zion. They are to be "born there." Surely
there shines before the speaker some glimmering ray of the truth that
incorporation with the people of God is effected by the communication
of a new life, a transformation of the natural, which will set men in
new affinities, and make them all brethren, because all participant
of the same wondrous birth. It would be anachronism to read into the
psalm the clear Christian truth "Ye must be born again," but it would
be as false a weakening of its words to refuse to see in them the
germ of that truth. The third discovery which the psalmist has made,
or rather the third revelation which he has received, is that of the
individual accession of the members of the outlying nations. The
Divine voice, in ver. 4, seems to speak of birth into citizenship as
national; but the psalmist, in ver. 6, represents Jehovah as writing
the names of individuals in the burgess-roll, and of saying in regard
to each, as He writes, "This one was born there." In like manner, in
ver. 5, the form of expression is "Man after man," which brings out the
same thought, with the addition that there is an unbroken series of
new citizens. It is by accession of single souls that the population
of Zion is increased. God's register resolves the community into its
component units. Men are born one by one, and one by one they enter
the true kingdom. In the ancient world the community was more than the
individual. But in Christ the individual acquires new worth, while the
bands of social order are not thereby weakened, but made more stringent
and sacred. The city, whose inhabitants have one by one been won by its
King, and have been knit to Him in the sacred depths of personal being,
is more closely "compact together" than the mechanical aggregations
which call themselves civil societies. The unity of Christ's kingdom
does not destroy national characteristics any more than it interferes
with individual idiosyncrasies. The more each constituent member is
himself, the more will he be joined to others, and contribute his
special mite to the general wealth and well-being.

Ver. 7 is, on any interpretation, extremely obscure, because so abrupt
and condensed. But probably the translation adopted above, though by
no means free from difficulty or doubt, brings out the meaning which
is most in accordance with the preceding. It may be supposed to flash
vividly before the reader's imagination the picture of a triumphal
procession of rejoicing citizens, singers as well as dancers, who
chant, as they advance, a joyous chorus in praise of the city, in
which they have found all fountains of joy and satisfaction welling up
for their refreshment and delight.




                            PSALM LXXXVIII.

   1  Jehovah, God of my salvation,
      By day, by night I cry before Thee.
   2  Let my prayer come before Thy face,
      Bow Thine ear to my shrill cry.
   3  For sated with troubles is my soul,
      And my life has drawn near to Sheol.
   4  I am counted with those that have gone down to the pit,
      I am become as a man without strength.
   5  [I am] free among the dead,
      Like the slain that lie in the grave,
      Whom Thou rememberest no more,
      But they are cut off from Thy hand.
   6  Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit,
      In dark places, in the deeps.
   7  Upon me Thy wrath presses hard,
      And [with] all Thy breakers Thou hast afflicted [me]. Selah
   8  Thou hast put my familiar friends far from me,
      Thou hast made me an abomination to them,
      I am shut up so that I cannot come forth.

   9  My eye wastes away because of affliction,
      I have called on Thee daily, Jehovah,
      I have spread out my palms to Thee,
  10  For the dead canst Thou do wonders?
      Or can the shades arise [and] praise Thee? Selah.
  11  In the grave can Thy loving-kindness be told,
      And Thy faithfulness in destruction?
  12  Can Thy wonders be made known in darkness,
      And Thy righteousness in the land of forgetfulness?

  13  But I, I have cried unto Thee, Jehovah,
      And in the morning my prayer comes to meet Thee.
  14  Why, Jehovah, dost Thou cast off my soul,
      [And] hidest Thy face from me?
  15  Afflicted am I and at the point of death from [my] youth,
      I have borne Thy terrors [till] I am distracted.
  16  Over me have Thy [streams of] wrath passed,
      Thy horrors have cut me off.
  17  They have compassed me about like waters all the day.
      They have come round me together.
  18  Thou hast put far from me lover and friend,
      My familiar friends are--darkness.


A psalm which begins with "God of my salvation" and ends with
"darkness" is an anomaly. All but unbroken gloom broods over it, and
is densest at its close. The psalmist is so "weighed upon by sore
distress," that he has neither definite petition for deliverance nor
hope. His cry to God is only a long-drawn complaint, which brings
no respite from his pains nor brightening of his spirit. But yet to
address God as the God of his salvation, to discern His hand in the
infliction of sorrows, is the operation of true though feeble faith.
"Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him," is the very spirit of
this psalm. It stands alone in the Psalter, which would be incomplete
as a mirror of phases of devout experience, unless it had one psalm
expressing trust which has ceased to ask or hope for the removal of
lifelong griefs, but still clasps God's hand even in the "darkness."
Such experience is comparatively rare, and is meant to be risen above.
Therefore this psalm stands alone. But it is not unexampled, and all
moods of the devout life would not find lyrical expression in the book
unless this deep note was once sounded.

It is useless to inquire what was the psalmist's affliction. His
language seems to point to physical disease, of long continuance
and ever threatening a fatal termination; but in all probability
sickness is a symbol here, as so often. What racked his sensitive
spirit matters little. The cry which his pains evoked is what we are
concerned with. There is little trace of strophical arrangement, and
commentators differ much in their disposition of the parts of the
psalm. But we venture to suggest a principle of division which has not
been observed, in the threefold recurrence of "I cry" or "I call,"
accompanied in each case by direct address to Jehovah. The resulting
division into three parts gives, first, the psalmist's description
of his hopeless condition as, in effect, already dead (vv. 1-8);
second, an expostulation with God on the ground that, if the psalmist
is actually numbered with the dead, he can no more be the object of
Divine help, nor bring God praise (vv. 9-12); and, third, a repetition
of the thoughts of the first part, with slight variation and addition.

The central portion of the first division is occupied with an expansion
of the thought that the psalmist is already as good as dead (vv. 3
_b_-6). The condition of the dead is drawn with a powerful hand, and the
picture is full of solemn grandeur and hopelessness. It is preceded in
vv. 1, 2, by an invocation which has many parallels in the psalms, but
which here is peculiarly striking. This saddest of them all has for its
first words the Name which ought to banish sadness. He who can call on
Jehovah as the God of his salvation possesses a charm which has power
to still agitation, and to flush despair with some light of hope as
from an unrisen sun. But this poet feels no warmth from the beams, and
the mists surge up, if not to hide the light, yet to obscure it. All
the more admirable, then, the persistence of his cry; and all the more
precious the lesson that Faith is not to let present experience limit
its conceptions. God is none the less the God of salvation and none the
less to be believed to be so, though no consciousness of His saving
power blesses the heart at the moment.

Ver. 1 _b_ is obscure. Psalm xxii. 2 and other places suggest that
the juxtaposition of day and night is meant to express the continuity
of the psalmist's prayer; but, as the text now stands, the first
part of the clause can only mean "In the time (day) when I cry,"
and the second has to be supplemented so as to read "[My cry comes]
before Thee." This gives a poor meaning, and there is probability
in the slight emendation on the word for _day_, which is required
in order to make it an adverb of time equivalent to "In the day,"
as in the passage already quoted. Another emendation, adopted by
Graetz, Bickell, and Cheyne, changes "God of" into "my God," and "my
salvation" into "I cry" (the same word as in ver. 13), and attaches
"by day" to the first clause. The result is,--

          Jehovah, my God, I cry to Thee by day,
          I call in the night before Thee.

The changes are very slight and easy, and the effect of them is
satisfactory. The meaning of the verse is obvious, whether the
emendation is accepted or not. The gain from the proposed change is
dearly purchased by the loss of that solitary expression of hope in
the name of "God of my salvation," the one star which gleams for a
moment through a rift in the blackness.

With "For" in ver. 3 the psalmist begins the dreary description of his
affliction, the desperate and all but deodly character of which he
spreads before God as a reason for hearing his prayer. Despair sometimes
strikes men dumb, and sometimes makes them eloquent. The sorrow which
has a voice is less crushing than that which is tongueless. This
overcharged heart finds relief in self-pitying depicting of its burdens,
and in the exercise of a gloomy imagination, which draws out in detail
the picture of the feebleness, the recumbent stillness, the seclusion
and darkness of the dead. They have "no strength." Their vital force
has ebbed away, and they are but as weak shadows, having an impotent
existence, which does not deserve to be called life. The remarkable
expression of ver. 5, "free among the dead," is to be interpreted in
the light of Job iii. 19, which counts it as one blessing of the grave,
that "there the servant is free from his master." But the psalmist
thinks that that "freedom" is loathsome, not desirable, for it means
removal from the stir of a life, the heaviest duties and cares of which
are better than the torpid immunity from these, which makes the state
of the dead a dreary monotony. They lie stretched out and motionless.
No ripple of cheerful activity stirs that stagnant sea. One unvarying
attitude is theirs. It is not the stillness of rest which prepares for
work, but of incapacity of action or of change. They are forgotten by
Him who remembers all that are. They are parted from the guiding and
blessing influence of the Hand that upholds all being. In some strange
fashion they are and yet are not. Their death has a simulacrum of life.
Their shadowy life is death. Being and non-being may both be predicated
of them. The psalmist speaks in riddles; and the contradictions in his
speech reflect his dim knowledge of that place of darkness. He looks
into its gloomy depths, and he sees little but gloom. It needed the
resurrection of Jesus to flood these depths with light, and to show that
the life beyond may be fuller of bright activity than life here--a state
in which vital strength is increased beyond all earthly experience, and
wherein God's all-quickening hand grasps more closely, and communicates
richer gifts than are attainable in that death which sense calls life.

Ver. 7 traces the psalmist's sorrows to God. It breathes not complaint
but submission, or, at least, recognition of His hand; and they who,
in the very paroxysm of their pains, can say, "It is the Lord," are
not far from saying, "Let Him do what seemeth Him good," nor from the
peace that comes from a compliant will. The recognition implies, too,
consciousness of sin which has deserved the "wrath" of God, and in
such consciousness lies the germ of blessing. Sensitive nerves may
quiver, as they feel the dreadful weight with which that wrath presses
down on them, as if to crush them; but if the man lies still, and lets
the pressure do its work, it will not force out his life, but only his
evil, as foul water is squeezed from cloth. Ver. 7 _b_ is rendered by
Delitzsch "All Thy billows Thou pressest down," which gives a vivid
picture; but "billows" is scarcely the word to use for the downward
rushing waters of a cataract, and the ordinary rendering, adopted
above, requires only natural supplements.

Ver. 8 approaches nearer to a specification of the psalmist's
affliction. If taken literally, it points to some loathsome
disease, which had long clung to and made even his friends shrink
from companionship, and thus had condemned him to isolation. All
these details suggest leprosy, which, if referred to here, is most
probably to be taken, as sickness is in several psalms, as symbolic
of affliction. The desertion by friends is a common feature in the
psalmists' complaints. The seclusion as in a prison-house is, no
doubt, appropriate to the leper's condition, but may also simply
refer to the loneliness and compulsory inaction arising from heavy
trials. At all events, the psalmist is flung back friendless on
himself, and hemmed in, so that he cannot expatiate in the joyous
bustle of life. Blessed are they who, when thus situated, can
betake themselves to God, and find that He does not turn away!
The consciousness of His loving presence has not yet lighted the
psalmist's soul; but the clear acknowledgment that it is God who has
put the sweetness of earthly companionship beyond his reach is, at
least, the beginning of the happier experience, that God never makes a
solitude round a soul without desiring to fill it with Himself.

If the recurring cry to Jehovah in ver. 9 is taken, as we have
suggested it should be, as marking a new turn in the thoughts,
the second part of the psalm will include vv. 9-12. Vv. 10-12 are
apparently the daily prayer referred to in ver. 9. They appeal to
God to preserve the psalmist from the state of death, which he
has just depicted himself as having in effect already entered,
by the consideration which is urged in other psalms as a reason
for Divine intervention (vi. 5, xxx. 9, etc.)--namely, that His
power had no field for its manifestation in the grave, and that He
could draw no revenue of praise from the pale lips that lay silent
there. The conception of the state of the dead is even more dreary
than that in vv. 4, 5. They are "shades," which word conveys the
idea of relaxed feebleness. Their dwelling is Abaddon--_i.e._,
"destruction,"--"darkness," "the land of forgetfulness" whose
inhabitants remember not, nor are remembered, either by God or man. In
that cheerless region, God had no opportunity to show His wonders of
delivering mercy, for monotonous immobility was stamped upon it, and
out of that realm of silence no glad songs of praise could sound. Such
thoughts are in startling contrast with the hopes that sparkle in some
psalms (such as xvi. 10, etc.), and they show that clear, permanent
assurance of future blessedness was not granted to the ancient
Church. Nor could there be sober certainty of it until after Christ's
resurrection. But it is also to be noticed that this psalm neither
affirms nor denies a future resurrection. It does affirm continuous
personal existence after death, of however thin and shadowy a sort. It
is not concerned with what may lie far ahead, but is speaking of the
present state of the dead, as it was conceived of, at the then stage
of revelation, by a devout soul, in its hours of despondency.

The last part (vv. 13-18) is marked, like the two preceding, by the
repetition of the name of Jehovah, and of the allusion to the psalmist's
continual prayer. It is remarkable, and perhaps significant, that the
time of prayer should here be "the morning," whereas in ver. 1 it
was, according to Delitzsch, _the night_, or, according to the other
rendering, _day and night_. The psalmist had asked in ver. 2 that his
prayer might enter into God's presence; he now vows that it will come
to meet Him. Possibly some lightening of his burden may be hinted at
by the reference to the time of his petition. Morning is the hour of
hope, of new vigour, of a fresh beginning, which may not be only a
prolongation of dreary yesterdays. But if there is any such alleviation,
it is only for a moment, and then the cloud settles down still more
heavily. But one thing the psalmist has won by his cry. He now longs
to know the reason for his affliction. He is confident that God is
righteous when He afflicts, and, heavy as his sorrow is, he has passed
beyond mere complaint concerning it, to the wish to understand it.
The consciousness that it is chastisement, occasioned by his own evil,
and meant to purge that evil away, is present, in a rudimentary form
at least, in that cry, "_Why_ castest Thou off my soul?" If sorrow has
brought a man to offer that prayer, it has done its work, and will cease
before long, or, if it lasts, will be easier to bear, when its meaning
and purpose are clear. But the psalmist rises to such a height but for a
moment, though his momentary attaining it gives promise that he will, by
degrees, be able to remain there permanently. It is significant that the
only direct naming of Jehovah, in addition to the three which accompany
the references to his prayers, is associated with this petition for
enlightenment. The singer presses close to God in his faith that His
hardest blows are not struck at random, and that His administration has
for its basis, not caprice, but reason, moved by love and righteousness.

Such a cry is never offered in vain, even though it should be followed,
as it is here, by plaintive reiterations of the sufferer's pains. These
are now little more than a summary of the first part. The same idea
of being in effect dead even while alive is repeated in ver. 15, in
which the psalmist wails that from youth he had been but a dying man,
so close to him had death seemed, or so death-like had been his life.
He has borne God's terrors till he is distracted. The word rendered "I
am distracted" is only used here, and consequently is obscure. Hupfeld
and others deny that it is a word at all (he calls it an "Unwort"), and
would read another which means _to become torpid_. The existing text
is defended by Delitzsch and others, who take the word to mean to be
weakened in mind or bewildered. The meaning of the whole seems to be
as rendered above. But it might also be translated, as by Cheyne, "I
bear Thy terrors, my senses must fail." In ver. 16 the word for wrath
is in the plural, to express the manifold outbursts of that deadly
indignation. The word means literally heat; and we may represent the
psalmist's thought as being that the wrath shoots forth many fierce
tongues of licking flame, or, like a lava stream, pours out in many
branches. The word rendered "Cut me off" is anomalous, and is variously
translated _annihilate_, _extinguish_, or as above. The wrath which
was a fiery name in ver. 16 is an overwhelming flood in ver. 17. The
complaint of ver. 8 recurs in ver. 18, in still more tragic form. All
human sympathy and help are far away, and the psalmist's only familiar
friend is--darkness. There is an infinitude of despair in that sad
irony. But there is a gleam of hope, though faint and far, like faint
daylight seen from the innermost recesses of a dark tunnel, in his
recognition that his dismal solitude is the work of God's hand; for, if
God has made a heart or a life empty of human love, it is that He may
Himself fill it with His own sweet and all-compensating presence.




                              PSALM LXXXIX

   1  The loving-kindnesses of Jehovah will I sing for ever,
      To generation after generation will I make known Thy Faithfulness
                with my mouth.
   2  For I said, For ever shall Loving-kindness be built up,
      The heavens--in them wilt Thou establish Thy Faithfulness,

   3  I have made a covenant with My chosen one,
      I have sworn to David My servant;
   4  For ever will I establish thy seed,
      And build up thy throne to generation after generation. Selah.

   5  And the heavens shall make known Thy wonders, Jehovah,
      Thy Faithfulness also in the congregation of Thy holy ones.
   6  For who in the skies can be set beside Jehovah,
      [Or] likened to Jehovah, amongst the sons of the mighty ones?

   7  A God very terrible in the council of the holy ones,
      And dread above all round about Him.
   8  Jehovah, God of Hosts, who like Thee is mighty, Jah?
      And Thy Faithfulness [is] round Thee.

   9  Thou, Thou rulest the insolence of the sea,
      When its waves lift themselves on high, Thou, Thou stillest them.
  10  Thou, Thou hast crushed Rahab as one that is slain,
      By the arm of Thy strength Thou hast scattered Thine enemies.

  11  Thine are the heavens, Thine also the earth,
      The world and its fulness, Thou, Thou hast founded them.
  12  North and south, Thou, Thou hast created them,
      Tabor and Hermon shout for joy at Thy Name.

  13  Thine is an arm with might,
      Strong is Thy hand, high is Thy right hand.
  14  Righteousness and Justice are the foundation of Thy throne,
      Loving-kindness and Troth go to meet Thy face.

  15  Blessed the people who know the festal shout!
      Jehovah, in the light of Thy face they walk.
  16  In Thy Name do they exult all the day,
      And in Thy righteousness are they exalted.

  17  For the glory of their strength art Thou,
      And in Thy favour shall our horn be exalted.
  18  For to Jehovah [belongs] our shield,
      And to the Holy One of Israel our king.

  19  Then Thou didst speak in vision to Thy favoured one and didst say,
      I have laid help upon a hero,
      I have exalted one chosen from the people,
  20  I have found David My servant,
      With My holy oil have I anointed him

  21  With whom My hand shall be continually,
      Mine arm shall also strengthen him,
  22  No enemy shall steal upon him,
      And no son of wickedness shall afflict him.

  23  And I shatter his adversaries before him,
      And them that hate him will I smite,
  24  And My Faithfulness and My Loving-kindness [shall be] with him,
      And in My name shall his horn be exalted.
  25  And I will set his hand on the sea,
      And his right hand on the rivers.

  26  He, he shall call upon Me, My Father art Thou,
      My God and the rock of my salvation.
  27  Also I, I will give him [to be My] first-born,
      Higher than the kings of the earth.

  28  For ever will I keep for him My Loving-kindness,
      And My covenant shall be inviolable towards him.
  29  And I will make his seed [to last] for ever,
      And his throne as the days of heaven.

  30  If his sons forsake My law,
      And walk not in My judgments,
  31  If they profane My statutes,
      And keep not My commandments,

  32  Then will I visit their transgression with a rod,
      And their iniquity with stripes.
  33  But My Loving-kindness will I not break off from him,
      And I will not be false to My Faithfulness.

  34  I will not profane My covenant,
      And that which has gone forth from My lips will I not change.
  35  Once have I sworn by My holiness,
      Verily I will not be false to David.

  36  His seed shall be for ever,
      And his throne as the sun before me,
  37  As the moon shall he be established for ever,
      And the witness in the sky is true. Selah.

  38  But Thou, Thou hast cast off and rejected,
      Thou hast been wroth with Thine anointed,
  39  Thou hast abhorred the covenant of Thy servant,
      Thou hast profaned his crown to the ground.

  40  Thou hast broken down all his fences,
      Thou hast made his strongholds a ruin.
  41  All that pass on the way spoil him,
      He is become a reproach to his neighbours.

  42  Thou hast exalted the hand of his adversaries,
      Thou hast made all his enemies rejoice.
  43  Also Thou turnest the edge of his sword,
      And hast not made him to stand in the battle.

  44  Thou hast made an end of his lustre,
      And cast his throne to the ground,
  45  Thou hast shortened the days of his youth,
      Thou hast wrapped shame upon him. Selah.

  46  How long, Jehovah, wilt Thou hide Thyself for ever?
      [How long] shall Thy wrath burn like fire?
  47  Remember how short a time I [have to live],
      For what vanity hast Thou created all the sons of men!
  48  Who is the man who shall live and not see death,
      [Who] shall deliver his soul from the hand of Sheol?

  49  Where are Thy former loving-kindnesses, Jehovah,
      Which Thou swarest to David in Thy faithfulness?
  50  Remember, Lord, the reproach of Thy servants,
      How I bear in my bosom the shame of the peoples(?)
  51  Wherewith Thine enemies have reproached Thee, Jehovah,
      Wherewith they have reproached the footsteps of Thine anointed.

  52  Blessed be Jehovah for evermore.
          Amen and Amen.


The foundation of this psalm is the promise in 2 Sam. vii. which
guaranteed the perpetuity of the Davidic kingdom. Many of the
characteristic phrases of the prophecy recur here--_e.g._, the
promises that the children of wickedness shall not afflict, and
that the transgressions of David's descendants should be followed
by chastisement only, not by rejection. The contents of Nathan's
oracle are first given in brief in vv. 3, 4--"like a text," as
Hupfeld says--and again in detail and with poetic embellishments in
vv. 19-37. But these glorious promises are set in sharpest contrast
with a doleful present, which seems to contradict them. They not only
embitter it, but they bewilder faith, and the psalmist's lament is
made almost a reproach of God, whose faithfulness seems imperilled
by the disasters which had fallen on the monarchy and on Israel. The
complaint and petitions of the latter part are the true burden of the
psalm, to which the celebration of Divine attributes in vv. 1-18,
and the expansion of the fundamental promise in vv. 19-37, are meant
to lead up. The attributes specified are those of Faithfulness (vv.
1, 2, 5, 8, 14) and of Power, which render the fulfilment of God's
promises certain. By such contemplations the psalmist would fortify
himself against the whispers of doubt, which were beginning to make
themselves heard in his mind, and would find in the character of God
both assurance that His promise shall not fail, and a powerful plea
for his prayer that it may not fail.

The whole tone of the psalm suggests that it was written when the
kingdom was toppling to ruin, or perhaps even after its fall. Delitzsch
improbably supposes that the young king, whom loss and shame make an old
man (ver. 45), is Rehoboam, and that the disasters which gave occasion
to the psalm were those inflicted by the Egyptian king Shishak. Others
see in that youthful prince Jehoiachin, who reigned for three months,
and was then deposed by Nebuchadnezzar, and whom Jeremiah has bewailed
(xxii. 24-29). But all such conjectures are precarious.

The structure of the psalm can scarcely be called strophical. There are
three well-marked turns in the flow of thought,--first, the hymn to the
Divine attributes (vv. 1-18); second, the expansion of the promise,
which is the basis of the monarchy (vv. 19-37); and, finally, the lament
and prayer, in view of present afflictions, that God would be true to
His attributes and promises (vv. 38-51). For the most part the verses
are grouped in pairs, which are occasionally lengthened into triplets.

The psalmist begins with announcing the theme of his song--the
Loving-kindness and Faithfulness of God. Surrounded by disasters,
which seem in violent contradiction to God's promise to David, he
falls back on thoughts of the Mercy which gave it and the Faithfulness
which will surely accomplish it. The resolve to celebrate these
in such circumstances argues a faith victorious over doubts, and
putting forth energetic efforts to maintain itself. This bird can
sing in midwinter. True, the song has other notes than joyous ones,
but they, too, extol God's Loving-kindness and Faithfulness, even
while they seem to question them. Self-command, which insists on a
man's averting his thoughts from a gloomy outward present to gaze
on God's loving purpose and unalterable veracity, is no small part
of practical religion. The psalmist will _sing_, because he _said_
that these two attributes were ever in operation, and lasting as the
heavens. "Loving-kindness snail be built up for ever," its various
manifestations being conceived as each being a stone in the stately
building which is in continual course of progress through all ages,
and can never be completed, since fresh stones will continually be
laid, as long as God lives and pours forth His blessings. Much less
can it ever fall into ruin, as impatient sense would persuade the
psalmist that it is doing in his day. The parallel declaration as
to God's Faithfulness takes the heavens as the type of duration and
immobility, and conceives that attribute to be eternal and fixed,
as they are. These convictions could not burn in the psalmist's
heart without forcing him to speak. Lover, poet, and devout man, in
their several ways, feel the same necessity of utterance. Not every
Christian can "sing," but all can and should speak. They will, if
their faith is strong.

The Divine promise, on which the Davidic throne rests, is summed up
in the abruptly introduced pair of verses (3, 4). That promise is
the second theme of the psalm; and just as, in some great musical
composition, the overture sounds for the first time phrases which
are to be recurrent and elaborated in the sequel, so, in the four
first verses of the psalm, its ruling thoughts are briefly put. Vv.
1, 2, stand first, but are second in time to vv. 3, 4. God's oracle
preceded the singer's praise. The language of these two verses echoes
the original passage in 2 Sam. vii., as in "_David My servant_,
_establish_, _for ever_, _build_," the last three of which expressions
were used in ver. 2, with a view to their recurrence in ver. 4. The
music keeps before the mind the perpetual duration of David's throne.

In vv. 6-18 the psalmist sets forth the Power and Faithfulness of God,
which insure the fulfilment of His promises. He is the incomparably
great and terrible God, who subdues the mightiest forces of nature and
tames the proudest nations (vv. 9, 10), who is Maker and Lord of the
world (vv. 11, 12), who rules with power, but also with righteousness,
faithfulness, and grace (vv. 13, 14), and who, therefore, makes His
people blessed and safe (vv. 15-18). Since God is such a God, His
promise cannot remain unfulfilled. Power and willingness to execute it
to the last tittle are witnessed by heaven and earth, by history and
experience. Dark as the present may be, it would, therefore, be folly
to doubt for a moment.

The psalmist begins his contemplations of the glory of the Divine
nature with figuring the very heavens as vocal with His praise. Not
only the object but the givers of that praise are noteworthy. The
heavens are personified, as in Psalm xix.; and from their silent
depths comes music. There is One higher, mightier, older, more
unperturbed, pure, and enduring than they, whom they extol by their
lustre which they owe to Him. They praise God's "wonder" (which here
means, not so much His marvellous acts, as the wonderfulness of His
Being, His incomparable greatness and power), and His Faithfulness,
the two guarantees of the fulfilment of His promises. Nor are the
visible heavens His only praisers. The holy ones, sons of the
mighty--_i.e._, the angels--bow before Him who is high above their
holiness and might, and own Him for God alone.

With ver. 9 the hymn descends to earth, and magnifies God's Power and
Faithfulness as manifested there. The sea is, as always, the emblem of
rebellious tumult. Its insolence is calmed by Him. And the proudest
of the nations, such as Rahab ("Pride," a current name for Egypt),
had cause to own His power, when He brought the waves of the sea over
her hosts, thus in one act exemplifying His sovereign sway over both
nature and nations. He is Maker, and therefore Lord, of heaven and
earth. In all quarters of the world His creative hand is manifest,
and His praise sounds. Tabor and Hermon may stand, as the parallelism
requires, for west and east, though some suppose that they are simply
named as conspicuous summits. They "shout for joy at Thy Name," an
expression like that used in ver. 16, in reference to Israel. The poet
thinks of the softly swelling Tabor with its verdure, and of the lofty
Hermon with its snows, as sharing in that gladness, and praising Him
to whom they owe their beauty and majesty. Creation vibrates with the
same emotions which thrill the poet. The sum of all the preceding is
gathered up in ver. 13, which magnifies the might of God's arm.

But more blessed still for the psalmist, in the midst of national
gloom, is the other thought of the moral character of God's rule. His
throne is broad-based upon the sure foundation of righteousness and
justice. The pair of attributes always closely connected--namely,
Loving-kindness and Troth or Faithfulness--are here, as frequently,
personified. They "go to meet Thy face"--that is, in order to present
themselves before Him. "The two genii of the history of redemption
(Psalm xliii. 3) stand before His countenance, like attendant maidens,
waiting the slightest indication of His will" (Delitzsch).

Since God is such a God, His Israel is blessed, whatever its present
plight. So the psalmist closes the first part of his song, with
rapturous celebration of the favoured nation's prerogatives. "The
festal shout" or "the trumpet-blast" is probably the music at the
festivals (Numb. xxiii. 21 and xxxi. 6), and "those who know" it
means "those who are familiar with the worship of this great God."
The elements of their blessedness are then unfolded. "They walk in
the light of Thy face." Their outward life is passed in continual
happy consciousness of the Divine presence, which becomes to them a
source of gladness and guidance. "In Thy Name do they exult all the
day." God's self-manifestation, and the knowledge of Him which arises
therefrom, become the occasion of a calm, perpetual joy, which is
secure from change, because its roots go deeper than the region where
change works. "In Thy righteousness shall they be exalted." Through
God's strict adherence to His covenant, not by any power of their
own, shall they be lifted above foes and fears. "The glory of their
strength art Thou." In themselves they are weak, but Thou, not any
arm of flesh, art their strength, and by possession of Thee they are
not only clothed with might, but resplendent with beauty. Human power
is often unlovely; God-given strength is, like armour inlaid with
gold, ornament as well as defence. "In Thy favour our horn shall be
exalted." The psalmist identifies himself at last with the people,
whose blessedness he has so glowingly celebrated. He could keep up
the appearance of distinction no longer. "They" gives place to "we"
unconsciously, as his heart swells with the joy which he paints.
Depressed as he and his people are for the moment, he is sure that
there is lifting up. The emblem of the lifted horn is common, as
expressive of victory. The psalmist is confident of Israel's triumph,
because he is certain that the nation, as represented by and, as it
were, concentrated in its king, belongs to God, who will not lose what
is His. The rendering of ver. 18 in the A.V. cannot be sustained. "Our
shield" in the first clause is parallel with "our king" in the second,
and the meaning of both clauses is that the king of Israel is God's,
and therefore secure. That ownership rests on the promise to David,
and on it in turn is rested the psalmist's confidence that Israel
and its king are possessed of a charmed life, and shall be exalted,
however now abject and despondent.

The second part (vv. 19-37) draws out in detail, and at some points
with heightened colouring, the fundamental prophecy by Nathan. It
falls into two parts, of which the former (vv. 19-27) refers more
especially to the promises given to David, and the second (vv. 28-37)
to those relating to his descendants. In ver. 19 "vision" is quoted
from 2 Sam. vii. 17; "then" points back to the period of giving the
promise; "Thy favoured one," is possibly Nathan, but more probably
David. The Masoretic reading, however, which is followed by many
ancient versions, has the plural "favoured ones," which Delitzsch
takes to mean Samuel and Nathan. "Help" means the help which, through
the king, comes to his people, and especially, as appears from the
use of the word "hero," aid in battle. But since the selection of
David for the throne is the subject in hand, the emendation which
reads for "help" _crown_ recommends itself as probable. David's
prowess, his humble origin, and his devotion to God's service are
brought into view in vv. 19, 20, as explaining and magnifying the
Divine choice. His dignity is all from God. Consequently, as the
next pair of verses goes on to say, God's protecting hand will ever
be with him, since He cannot set a man in any position and fail to
supply the gifts needed for it. Whom He chooses He will protect.
Sheltered behind that strong hand, the king will be safe from all
assaults. The word rendered "steal upon" in ver. 22 is doubtful, and
by some is taken to mean _to exact_, as a creditor does, but that
gives a flat and incongruous turn to the promise. For ver. 22 _b_
compare 2 Sam. vii. 10. Victory over all enemies is next promised in
vv. 23-25, and is traced to the perpetual presence with the king of
God's Faithfulness and Loving-kindness, the two attributes of which
so much has been sung in the former part. The manifestation of God's
character (_i.e._, His Name) will secure the exaltation of David's
horn--_i.e._, the victorious exercise of his God-given strength.
Therefore a wide extension of his kingdom is promised in ver. 25, from
the Mediterranean to the Euphrates and its canals, on which God will
lay the king's hand--_i.e._, will put them in his possession.

The next pair of verses (26, 27) deals with the inward side of the
relations of God and the king. On David's part there will be child-like
love, with all the lowliness of trust and obedience which lies in the
recognition of God's fatherhood, and on God's part there will be the
acknowledgment of the relation, and the adoption of the king as His
"first-born," and therefore, in a special sense, beloved and exalted.
Israel is called by the same name in other places, in reference to
its special prerogative amongst the nations. The national dignity is
concentrated in the king, who stands to other monarchs as Israel to
other nations, and is to them "Most High," the august Divine title,
which here may possibly mean that David is to the rulers of the earth
an image of God. The reciprocal relation of Father and Son is not here
conceived in its full inwardness and depth as Christianity knows it,
for it has reference to office rather than to the person sustaining
the office, but it is approximating thereto. There is an echo of the
fundamental passage in ver. 26. (Compare 2 Sam. vii. 14.)

From ver. 28 onwards the psalmist turns to expand the promises to
David's line. His words are mainly a poetical paraphrase of 2 Sam.
vii. 14. Transgression shall indeed be visited with chastisement,
which the fatherly relation requires, as the original passage
indicates by the juxtaposition of the promise "I will be his Father,"
and the declaration "I will chasten him." But it will be chastisement
only, and not rejection. The unchangeableness of God's loving purpose
is very strongly and beautifully put in ver. 33, in which the twin
attributes of Loving-kindness and Faithfulness are again blended
as the ground of sinful men's hope. The word rendered above "break
off" occasions a difficulty, both in regard to its form and its
appropriateness in this connection. The clause is a quotation from 2
Sam. vii. 15, and the emendation which substitutes for _break off_ the
more natural word used there--namely, _withdraw_--is to be preferred.
In ver. 33 b the paradoxical expression of _being false to My
faithfulness_ suggests the contradiction inherent in the very thought
that He can break His plighted word. The same idea is again put in
striking form in ver. 34: "I will not profane My covenant," even
though degenerate sons of David "profane" God's statute. His word,
once spoken, is inviolable. He is bound by His oath. He has given His
holiness as the pledge of His word, and, till that holiness wanes,
those utterances which He has sealed with it cannot be recalled. The
certainty that sin does not alter God's promise is not traced here to
His placableness, but to His immutable nature, and to the obligations
under which He is laid by His own word and acts. That unchangeableness
is a rock-foundation, on which sinful men may build their certitude.
It is much to know that they cannot sin away God's mercy nor exhaust
His gentle long-suffering. It is even more to know that His holiness
guarantees that they cannot sin away His promises, nor by any breach
of His commandments provoke Him to break His covenant.

The allusions to the ancient promise are completed in vv. 36, 37,
with the thought of the perpetual continuance of the Davidic line
and kingdom, expressed by the familiar comparison of its duration to
that of the sun and moon. Ver. 37 _b_ is best understood as above.
Some take the faithful witness to be the moon; others the rainbow,
and render, as in the A.V. and R.V., "and as the faithful witness."
But the designation of the moon as a witness is unexampled and almost
unintelligible. It is better to take the clause as independent, and to
suppose that Jehovah is His own witness, and that the psalmist here
speaks in his own person, the quotation of the promises being ended.
Cheyne encloses the clause in a parenthesis and compares Rev. iii. 14.

The third part begins with ver. 38, and consists of two portions, in
the first of which the psalmist complains with extraordinary boldness
of remonstrance, and describes the contrast between these lofty
promises and the sad reality (vv. 38-45), and, in the second prays
for the removal of the contradiction of God's promise by Israel's
affliction, and bases this petition on the double ground of the
shortness of life, and the dishonour done to His own Name thereby.

The expostulation very nearly crosses the boundary of reverent
remonstrance, when it charges God with having Himself "abhorred" or,
according to another rendering, "made void" His covenant, and cast
the king's crown to the ground. The devastation of the kingdom is
described, in vv. 40, 41, in language borrowed from Psalm lxxx. 12. The
pronouns grammatically refer to the king, but the ideas of the land
and the monarch are blended. The next pair of verses (42, 43) ventures
still further in remonstrance, by charging God with taking the side
of Israel's enemies and actively intervening to procure its defeat.
The last verse-pair of this part (44, 45) speaks more exclusively of
the king, or perhaps of the monarchy. The language, especially in ver.
45 _a_, seems most naturally understood of an individual. Delitzsch
takes such to be its application, and supposes it to describe the
king as having been prematurely aged by calamity; while Hupfeld, with
Hengstenberg and others, prefer to regard the expression as lamenting
that the early days of the monarchy's vigour had so soon been succeeded
by decrepitude like that of age. That family, which had been promised
perpetual duration and dominion, has lost its lustre, and is like a
dying lamp. That throne has fallen to the ground, which God had promised
should stand for ever. Senile weakness has stricken the monarchy, and
disaster, which makes it an object of contempt, wraps it like a garment,
instead of the royal robe. A long, sad wail of the music fixes the
picture on the mind of the hearer.

Then follows prayer, which shows how consistent with true reverence
and humble dependence is the outspoken vigour of the preceding
remonstrance. The boldest thoughts about the apparent contradiction
of God's words and deeds are not too bold, if spoken straight to Him,
and not muttered against Him, and if they lead the speaker to prayer
for the removal of the anomaly. In ver. 46 there is a quotation from
Psalm lxxix. 5. The question "How long" is the more imploring because
life is so short. There is but a little while during which it is
possible for God to manifest Himself as full of Loving-kindness and
Faithfulness. The psalmist lets his feelings of longing to see for
himself the manifestation of these attributes peep forth for a moment,
in that pathetic sudden emergence of "I" instead of "we" or "men," in
ver. 47 _a_. His language is somewhat obscure, but the sense is clear.
Literally, the words read "Remember--I, what a transitoriness." The
meaning is plain enough, when it is observed that, as Perowne rightly
says, "I" is placed first for the sake of emphasis. It is a tender
thought that God may be moved to show forth His Loving-kindness by
remembrance of the brief period within which a man's opportunity of
beholding it is restricted, and by the consideration that so soon he
will have to look on a grimmer sight, and "see death." The music again
comes in with a melancholy cadence, emphasising the sadness which
enwraps man's short life, if no gleams of God's loving-kindness fall
on its fleeting days.

The last three verses (vv. 49-51) urge yet another plea--that of the
dishonour accruing to God from the continuance of Israel's disasters.
A second "Remember" presents that plea, which is preceded by the
wistful question "Where are Thy former loving-kindnesses?" The psalmist
looks back on the glories of early days, and the retrospect is bitter
and bewildering. That these were sworn to David in God's faithfulness
staggers him, but he makes the fact a plea with God. Then in vv. 50, 51,
he urges the insults and reproaches which enemies hurled against him and
against "Thy servants," and therefore against God.

Ver. 50 _b_ is obscure. To "bear in the bosom" usually implies
tender care, but here can only mean sympathetic participation. The
psalmist again lets his own personality appear for a moment, while
he identifies himself as a member of the nation with "Thy servants"
and "Thine anointed." The last words of the clause are so obscure
that there must apparently have been textual corruption. If the
existing text is retained, the object of the verb _I bear_ must be
supplied from _a_, and this clause will run, "I bear in my bosom
the reproach of all the many peoples." But the collocation of _all_
and _many_ is harsh, and the position of _many_ is anomalous. An
ingenious conjecture, adopted by Cheyne from Boettcher and Bickell, and
accepted by Baethgen, reads for "all, many peoples," _the shame of the
peoples_, which gives a good meaning, and may be received as at all
events probable, and expressing the intent of the psalmist. Insolent
conquerors and their armies triumph over the fallen Israel, and
"reproach the footsteps" of the dethroned king or royal line--_i.e._,
they pursue him with their taunts, wherever he goes. These reproaches
cut deep into the singer's heart; but they glance off from the earthly
objects and strike the majesty of Heaven. God's people cannot be
flouted without His honour being touched. Therefore the prayer goes
up, that the Lord would remember these jeers which mocked Him as well
as His afflicted people, and would arise to action on behalf of His
own Name. His Loving-kindness and Faithfulness, which the psalmist
has magnified, and on which he rests his hopes, are darkened in the
eyes of men and even of His own nation by the calamities, which give
point to the rude gibes of the enemy. Therefore the closing petitions
beseech God to think on these reproaches, and to bring into act once
more His Loving-kindness, and to vindicate His Faithfulness, which He
had sealed to David by His oath.

Ver. 52 is no part of the original psalm, but is the closing doxology
of Book III.




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




Transcriber's Notes:


Obvious punctuation and spelling errors have been fixed throughout.

Non-Latin characters have been replaced with the nearest Latin
equivalent for example oe (the oe ligature), was replaced with oe.

Inconsistent hyphenation left as in the original text.






End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Expositor's Bible: The Psalms,
Vol. 2, by Alexander Maclaren

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