Verses 169–176
169. Let my cry come near before thee, 0 Lord: give me understanding, according to thy word. 170. Let my supplication come before thee; deliver me according to thy word.
WE mark David here, where he always loved to be, — a supplicant at the throne of grace. Many had been his “cries and supplications.” His petition now is — that they may “come near before his Lord.” Oh! that our wants of every moment were felt with the same pressure, and carried to the Lord with the same faith, earnestness, humility, and perseverance! Richness of expression, and fluency of utterance, are the mere shell and shadow of prayer. The life of prayer is the “cry” of the heart to God. The eloquence of prayer is its earnestness. The power of prayer is that which cometh, not from education, or from the natural desire of the man; but that “which is from above” — “the spirit of supplication” — “the spirit of adoption.” The urgency of present need calls for instant prayer. The soul is at stake; the enemy is within the walls — perhaps within the citadel. Oh, what a privilege to know that we have “a strong habitation, whereunto we may continually resort” — to be able to remind the Lord — “Thou hast given commandment to save me; for thou art my rock and my fortress f”
But then we must see, that our” cry comes before —
1 Psalm kxi. 3.
comes near before the Lord; “that nothing blocks up the way, or interrupts the communication. If we are believers, the way is open; “the middle wall of partition is broken down.” Oh, let us be excited to greater nearness of communion! “Having boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which he hath consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh,” l why should we be backward to come? Had we not seen the way marked by this blood of sprinkling, we should (if we have had any sight into our own hearts) no more have dared to take one step into the awful presence of God, than to rush into the devouring flame. If, in a moment of extremity, we had felt, that we must pray or perish, we should have had no boldness to open our mouths before God, — much less to expect that our “supplication would come near before him,” had we not been “made nigh by the blood of Christ.” 2 But what an amount of privilege is it, that this way to God is always open — that, as members of Christ, we stand in the sight of God as pure as Christ is pure — that we have not only “access” but “access with confidence” 3 — yea, with the same confidence as the Son of God himself! For the Father is never weary of delighting in his dear Son, or in those who are one with him. If he, therefore, takes our names into the holy place — if he offer sacrifice and incense for us, and sprinkle us with his blood — “in him we are complete,” 4 — “in him,” therefore, let us “glory.” 5 “Having an high-priest over the house of God; let us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of faith.” 6
1 Heb. x. 19, 20. 2 Eph. ii. 13.
3 Ib. iii. 12. Esther had “access” to the King — but not “with confidence” — iv. 16.
4 Col. ii. 10. s Isaiah xlv. 25. 6 Heb. x. 21, 22.
But where we feel as if we did not, could not, reach the throne of grace, “is there not a cause?” Our distance from God must be traced to a deeper origin than the dulness and insensibility of our hearts. The real difficulty of prayer, and indeed the actual inability to pray, arises in many, and probably in most, cases, from an indistinct perception of the way of access. We must admit this, not only in those who are totally ignorant of Christ, but also in the cases of weak, unestablished, or negligent Christians. Through ignorance of the fulness and freeness of the gospel in the one, and indulgence of sin or secret unwatchfulness in the other, the way of access (only perceptible by the eye of faith) becomes obscured, the desire faint, the spiritual strength weakened. And instead of the acknowledgment — “The Lord hath heard the voice of my supplications,” y we have the mournful complaints — “My soul cleaveth to the dust — oh that I were as in months past!” 2 It must be so; for prayer without faith is a heartless ceremony in the spirit of bondage. That which gives to it life and acceptance is the believing apprehension of Christ.3 The ignorant and self-righteous may find it a matter of course (as easy as it is fruitless) to bow their knee in the form of prayer. But the light, that darts in upon the awakened conscience, reveals something hitherto unknown of God and of themselves, and shows the ground of confidence for a self-condemned sinner, to be a matter of the deepest mystery, and most amazing difficulty. Such a confidence, however, God has laid open to us. We cannot honour him more than by making use of it. All that come in the name of Jesus are welcome; why, then, penitent sinner, should not you be welcome? The
1 Psalm vi. 9. 2 Verse 2/5. Job xxix. 2.
3 Hcb. iv. 14 — 16; x. 19 — 22. Y throne of grace was raised for sinners such as you. You cannot want larger promises, or a better plea. You come, not because you are worthy, but because you are bid, to come. Take the command, and lay it upon your conscience. Christ is your only way to God. Faith is the act and exercise of coming to Christ. Faith, therefore, will bring you to God, if you have not hitherto come; or restore you to God, if you have wandered from him.
But there may be a secret departure from God even in the engagement of active service, or in the exercises of social religion. For if these duties are substituted for secret communion with God, “the things that remain in us will be ready to die; “l ordinances will fail to enrich; Christian fellowship will bring no refreshment: and the soul, while blessed with the abundance of means of grace, “in the fulness of its sufficiency will be in straits.” 2 Indeed, if our affections and feelings are moved in social exercises, and are cold and insensible when we are alone with God, it is a bad symptom of our state. “What then do we know of the comforts of the closet? Do we pray, because we love to pray, or only because our consciences constrain us to the duty? Does the Lord mark those secret transactions with himself, that manifest our hearts to be really drawn to him? Is it any pressing business of our soul’s salvation, that brings us to God? Are our services enlivened with spiritual manifestations of Christ? It is possible long to continue in the outward course of duty: and yet not one of our prayers to “come near before the Lord.” We have not come in the appointed way; and therefore we have not really come at all. Or if the name of Christ has been affixed to our prayers,
1 Rev. iii. 2. 2 Job xx. 22.
it has been as a component part of a formal system, not as an exercise of dependence in seeking acceptance with God.
But it may be, that we have backslidden from God, in a habit of indulged coldness or wilful iniquity. Now if we would expect “the candle of the Lord again to shine upon our heads, and his secret to be upon our tabernacles,” l we must rest satisfied with nothing short of the full restoration of our privileges. We must return to the Lord with deepened contrition in his appointed way, and wait for him to look upon us, and once more to “let our supplication come near before him.” He had “gone, and returned to his place, till we acknowledged our offence, and sought his face;” 2 and he is now sitting on a “throne of grace,” waiting “that he may be gracious.” 3 Again and again, there fore, let us fall down at his feet, and never cease to pray, until we feel that our “cry and supplication come near before him,” and spiritual “understanding of our case, and deliverance” from our danger, are vouchsafed. As a God of wisdom and yearning mercy, we may trust him to “perform all things for us.” 4 Let him then judge for the time and means of our deliverance. Only let it be according to his own word of faithfulness, and we “shall yet praise him.” 5
It is beautiful to observe the oil of the Psalmist’s faith feeding the flame of his supplication. Every petition is urged upon the warrant of a promise — “according to thy word” The promises were the very breath of his supplication; exciting his expectation for a favourable answer, and exercising his patience, until the answer should come. Though in possession of so comparatively small a portion of the blessed book, he
i Job xx;x 3, 4. 2 Hosea v. 15. 3 Isaiah xxx. 18.
Psalm lvii. 2. ‘Ib. xlii. 11.
Y2 seemed always to find a word for the present occasion; always able to show to his God his own hand and seal. Alas! sometimes with the whole word of God before us, we are at a loss to appropriate one of its innumerable promises to the present emergency. Yet with all our contracted views of the covenant, still our interest in it is not denied. Such is the condescension of our tender Father that he accepts even the stammering language of faith in his children! The cry “Abba Father” — ’ though ’ (as Luther sweetly expresses it) ’ it is but a cry; yet it doth so pierce the clouds, that there is nothing else heard in heaven of God and his angels.’ 1 And how delightful is the thought, that God’s elect — as they will shortly be gathered a countless multitude around the heavenly throne2 — so do they now hold spiritual communion with each other, while “they cry day and night” 3 before their Father’s throne of grace! True it is — we understand not one another’s tongues. Yet does our loving Father understand us all. Nor do our different dialects cause any confusion in heaven; but rather unite and form one cloud of incense, ascending with continual acceptance and delight in his presence. Ineffable is the delight, with which our Beloved enjoys that communion with his people, which he purchased with his own blood — “O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rocks, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.” 4
1 Luther on Gal. iv. 6. And again — ‘This little word, Father, conceived effectually in the heart, passeth all the eloquence of Demosthenes, Cicero, and of the most eloquent rhetoricians that ever were in the world. This matter is not expressed with words, but with groanings; which groanings cannot be uttered with any words of eloquence, for no tongue can express them.’
2 Rev. vii. 9. * Luke xviii. 7. 4 Can. ii. 14, alsoiv. 11.
171. My lips shall utter praise, when thou hast taught me thy statutes.
How happy is it to bring to God a heart as large in praise as in prayer! The answer of the supplication for spiritual understanding and deliverance naturally issues in the sacrifice of praise. Guilt had sealed David’s lips, while living in sin, and restrained alike the utterance of praise and prayer. But when awakened to a sense of his sin, how earnest were his cries! — “Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation. O Lord, open thou my lips; and my mouth shall show forth thy praise.” J And if guilt or unbelief has made us dumb, his petitions will tune our hearts to the “songs of Zion.” When the Lord has taught us in his statutes the revelation of himself — as having given his dear Son for us and to us, “the tongue of the dumb is made to sing,” 2 — Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift /” 3
And do I not remember “the time of love,” when I was “a brand plucked out of the fire” — a redeemed sinner — a pardoned rebel — destined for a seat on the throne of God — indulged with a taste, and assured of the completion of heavenly bliss? This was a work worthy of God — a work, which none but God could have wrought. What mercy is this! Everlasting! Unchangeable? Let me cast myself daily upon it; yea, let me bury myself in it! What gratitude is demanded! “My lips shall utter praise, now that he has taught me his statutes.’” “O Lord, I will praise thee; though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turned away, and thou comfortest me.”
Again — I seemed to have sunk beyond all help. No
1 Psalm li. 12, 15. 2 Isaiah xxxv. G.
3 2 Cor. ix. 15. * Isaiah xii. 1.
means, no ministers, no providences, could reach my extremity. All were “physicians of no value,” 1 tried and tried again; but tried in vain. But “in weakness” thoroughly felt “strength was made perfect.” 2 The threatening clouds were dispersed; the breaches were healed; the veil of unbelief was rent. “The right hand of the Lord had brought mighty things to pass” 3 — “He hath both spoken unto me, and himself hath done it;”4 and it is “marvellous in our eyes.”5 Let my stammering “lips utter praise.” What a display of power! It is the spark preserved in the ocean unquenched, the drop in the flames unconsumed — the feather in the storm unshaken. “Who is a God like unto thee!” “Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory.” 6
And again — I was perplexed in a dark and bewildered path. Every dispensation appeared to frown upon me. One dark hour had blotted out all the recollections of my former comforts; and it was as if I never could, never should, rejoice again. But little did I think how the Lord was “abounding towards me in all wisdom and prudence” 7 — how his arrows were sharpened with love — how he was “humbling me, and proving me, to know what was in my heart,” 8 and in the moment of chastening was speaking to me — I know the thoughts that I think towards you, saith the Lord: thoughts of peace, and not of evil, “to give you an expected end.” 9 What a display of “wisdom!” “My lips shall utter praise;” for if I “should hold my peace, the stones would immediately cry out.” 10
The thought what I was before my conversion — what
1 Job xiii. 4. 2 2 Cor. xii. 9.
3 Psalm cxviii. 16, prayer-book version. 4 Isaiah xxxviii. 15.
5 Psalm cxviii. 23. 6 Micah vii. 18. Psalm cxv. 1.
7 Eph. i. 8. 8 Deuteronomy viii. 2.
9 Jer. xxix. 11. I0 Luke xix. 40.
I have been since — what I am now — overwhelms me with shame and with praise. “Lord, how is it that thou shouldst have manifested to me, as thou hast not unto the world 1” “Who am I, 0 Lord God, that thou hast brought me hitherto!” And how much more “that thou hast spoken of thy servant for a great while to come!” For thou hast prepared for me a happy eternity in thy unclouded presence. Should not then my praise be bubbling up as from a fountain 2 — pouring forth as from a rich treasure house? 3 Should not my instrument — if not always employed — be always kept in tune? 4 Yes — when I am most deploring my sins, never let me fail to thank the Lord, that he has not taken away his truth utterly — that he has left me clinging to some twig of hope, instead of leaving me to find — what many who look very calm have found — the depth of this precipice of despair. And has not the time been with you — believer — when you have been almost ready to give up all for lost, and to say, ‘Evil be thou my good,’ and when the thought flashed light and com fort, ‘While I am struggling between despondency and rebellion, and too hard — too cold — too discouraged to look up, my blessed Saviour is pitying and succouring me in my struggle. Then let me put off despair at least till to-morrow ’ — and before to-morrow’s dawn the cloud was swept awav.
Ought not we then to glorify our Saviour — a privilege as high as to enjoy him — nay — the very means of increasing our enjoyment of him, in the active excitement of my love, and every grace for his sake. Let not the enemy rob me, as too often he has done, of my high privilege. Let me prize secret prayer. Let me be separated from an ensnaring world. Let me dread
1 2 Sam. vii. 18, 19. 2 Psalm xlvi. M. R.
3 Matt. xii. 34. * Psalm lvii. 7; evin. 1.
separation from my God — and if ever estranged from him, let me never rest, until, by “receiving the atonement,” always presented and accepted on my behalf, I once more walk in the light of his countenance. Let me then fix the eye of my faith, weak and dim as it may be, constantly upon Jesus. He must do all for me, in me, by me. He must “teach” me more and more of “the statutes” of my God, that my heart may be delightfully engaged with “my lips in uttering his praise.”
172. My tongue shall speak of thy word; for all thy commandments are righteousness.
To speak of God and for him, will be the desire and delight of him, whose heart and lips have been taught to “utter praise.” Yet alas! how seldom is “our conversation seasoned with grace!” l So much of this poor world’s nothing! So little of Jesus! If only five minutes can be redeemed for prayer — for Scripture — or for thought — let it be seized as an inestimable jewel. If we can pass five minutes less in foolish or ensnaring company, secure the advantage. If vain words are flowing up from the bottom, look on the restraint that represses them from our lips as a triumphant mercy. This active energy of Christian discipline will communicate a fragrance to our conversation, most acceptable to our Beloved Lord; 2 and will make our “lips” enriching,3 feeding,4 and instructive 5 to his church. And truly when we see how hardly men judge of him — how they count his “commandments grievous,” and his ways “unequal,”6 it will be delightful to bear our
1 Col. iv. 6. 2 Can. iv. 11. 3 Prov. x. 20.
4 Ib. v. 21. 5 Ib. xv. 7. Ezek. xviii. 25.
testimony, that “all his commandments are righteousness” — restraining the power of sin, and conforming the soul to his image.
“Lord, open thou my lips, that my tongue may speak of thy word” Honour me, O my God, by helping me to show, that “all thy commandments are righteousness.’’ In our own atmosphere, and our own spirit, how often do we pour out our words without waiting on the Lord for unction and power — speaking of the things of God without his presence and blessing! Were we living fully in the atmosphere and breathing of prayer — enriched with habitual meditation in the word — how much more fluent would our tongue be to speak of his word “to the use of edifying!” J It would be made really our own — known experimentally — and then how cheering, how enlivening the conversation of the man of God! His “light so shines before men, that” they are constrained to “glorify his Father which is in heaven.” 2
Perhaps, believer, supposed inability, natural bashfulness, or want of seasonable opportunity may restrain your lips. But under most unfavourable circumstances something may generally be said or done in the sen-ice of God. And whilst it is well carefully to watch against the “talk of the lips, which tendeth only to penury; “a beware, lest, through the scrupulous tenderness of conscience, “Satan get advantage” to shut the mouth of the faithful witnesses of God, and thus to weaken that cause, which it is your first desire to support.4 Guard against the influence of unbelief. Bring your weakness and inability daily to the Lord. Let any dreaded in consistency of profession be searched out, examined, and
1 Eph. iv. 29, with Col. iii. 16. * Matt. v. 10. 3 Prov. xiv. 23. 4 It was an excellent saying of Archbishop Usher, when in the society of his friends — ‘A word of Christ before we part.’ Y 5 lamented before him, and opposed in dependence on his grace; but never let it be made a covering for indolence, or supply fuel for despondency. Consider how your interest in a Divine Saviour makes your way open to bring all your wants to him. Be encouraged there fore to ask for the Spirit of God to guide your lips: that a poor weak sinner may be permitted to “show forth the praises of Him,” who is surrounded with all the Hosts of Heaven.
When however our silence has arisen from the too feeble assistance of our natural carelessness and indolence, the recollection of many important opportunities of glorifying our Saviour, lost beyond recal, may well excite the prayer — “Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God; and my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness.”1 Oh! to have the preciousness of souls deeply impressed upon our hearts! Oh! for that compassionate love, that would never suffer us to meet a fellow-sinner, without lifting up our hearts to God on his behalf; making an effort to win his soul to Christ: and manifesting an earnest desire for his salvation! What loss is there to our own souls in these neglected opportunities of blessing the souls of others! For never do we receive richer fruit to ourselves, than in the act or endeavour to communicate to others. The heart becomes enlarged by every practical exercise of Christian love. Yet much simplicity — much unction from above — much tenderness of heart — much wisdom combined with boldness — is needed in our daily conversation, that we may “make manifest the savour of the knowledge of Christ in every place;” 2 and specially — that our very desires to bring sinners to the Gospel may proceed — not from a goading conscience, much less from pride and vain glory — but from the pure source of love to Christ and
1 Psalm li. 14. 2 2 Cor. ii. 14.
to our fellow-sinners. For even if we are as “full of matter” as Elihu l was, nothing will be said for God — nothing, that will “minister grace to the hearers,” unless the influence of the Divine Spirit fills our hearts, 2 as “a well of water, springing up unto everlasting life,”3 — a blessing to all around us.
173. Let thy hand help me: for I have chosen thy precepts.
DAVID, having engaged himself to a bold profession of his God, now comes to seek his needful supply of “help.” — “Let thine hand help me.” And if we may “coine to the throne of grace,” that we may find “grace to help in time of need” 4 when should we not come? For is not every moment a “time of need,” such as may quicken us to flee to the “strong tower,” whither “the righteous runneth, and is safe?” 5 Besieged without; betrayed within: “wrestling against flesh and blood,” and yet not against flesh and blood only; 6 disputing every inch of ground, yet often discouraged by the little ground we seem to gain; surely we need all the help of Omnipotence to sustain us in the tremendous conflict. We may plead our “choice of his precepts,” in looking for his “help.” ‘David had before “taken the testimonies of God as his heritage” 8 — including all the precious promises of the Gospel, extending to every necessity of time, and to every prospect for eternity. He now confesses his obligation — “in choosing the precepts” — a happy choice — the influence of the Spirit upon his heart.9
1 Compare Job xxxii. 18 — 20, 2 Comp. Eph. v. 18, 19.
3 Johniv. 14. 4 Hcb. iv. 1C. 5 Prov. xviii. 10.
6 Eph. vi. 12. 7 Verse 94. 8 Verse 111.
9 SeeEzek. xi. 19,20.
This choice is the distinctive mark of the Lord’s people l — the exercise of a well-instructed and deliberate judgment — prompt obedience in the simplicity of faith. It is the choice of all the precepts — no other than the voluntary, acknowledgment of our baptismal obligations. Many carnal suggestions offer themselves, the moment that the purpose is forming into the choice. “The things that were gain to us,” and which now must be “counted loss for Christ,” 2 (should we allow their weight in the balance at this crisis) will bring much hesitation and perplexity. Conferences “with flesh and blood” are most subtle hindrances to Christian determination.3 ‘What will the world say? If I go too far, I shall give offence; I shall lose all my influence — and blast all my prospects of eventual benefit to those around me. The apprehension also of losing the affection, and of incurring the displeasure, of those whom my heart holds dear, is most fearful. And then, this sacrifice is too costly to make; that pleasure too hard to resign.’ Such thoughts — the injections of the tempter — are ever at the door; and e en when effectual resistance is offered, the struggle is often most severe. But it is such a mighty help in this conflict, when one desire has taken sole possession the heart — “Lord, what wilt thou have me to do;” 4 when we are so crucified to worldly influence, whether of pleasure, profit, fear, or esteem, as to be ready to act upon the resolution — “Wherefore henceforth know we no man after the flesh.” 6 Now the heavenly beauty of the religion of the gospel breaks in upon us.
Experience of our own weakness, and of the great power of the world, is gradually preparing us for victory over it. We shall then most specially find our hap-
1 Isaiah lvi. 4. 2 Phil. iii. 7. 3 Compare Gal. i. 16.
4 Acts ix. 6. 5 ‘2 Cor. v. 1C.
piness in losing our own will; and our Master’s cross will be a delightful burden — like wings to a bird, or sails to a ship — assisting, instead of retarding, our course. The more we trust to his help and guidance in every thing, the more we shall be able to do, and the more delightful will his service be to us.
The want of a determined choice is the secret of the halting profession that prevails among us. A compromise is attempted with the world. “The offence of the cross” begins to “cease.” A middle path of serious religion is marked out, divested of what is called need less offensiveness — forgetting, that the religion that pleases the world will never be acceptable with God; nor can the religion that pleases God be ever accommodated to the inclination of the world. Oh! we shall do well to consider, whether the way of “the Lord’ a precepts” may not be found too hard, too strait, too unfrequented — whether we are prepared to brave the pointed finger and whispered scoff of the ungodly — and, perhaps, the mistaken opposition of beloved friends.’ Often has the profession of Christ been hastily taken up and relinquished.2 He that wishes to abide by it, must daily learn this lesson — “Without me ye can do nothing:”* and, in conscious helplessness, he will often breathe the cry — “Let thine hand help me.”
Nor is this petition needful only in the first determination of this choice. In the growing and more decided conviction of its superior happiness, and in the daily endeavour to live in it, we shall find increasing need for the same acknowledgment of helplessness, and the same cry for support. Dependence is a principle of deep humility and mighty energy. The thought that we are entering into the work in the Lord’s strength is a great
1 Conip. Luke xiv. 26. * Comp. Matt. viii. I’J, 20.
3 John xv. 5.
stay. Blessed indeed is that helplessness, that makes us lie in the bosom of our Saviour, supported and cherished. Blessed be God for the “help laid” for us “upon one that is mighty; “l so that our insufficiency and all-sufficiency are visible at one glance; and” when we are” most “weak, then are we” most “strong! “2” They that war against thee shall be as nothing, and as a thing of nought. For I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, “Fear not, I will help thee.” 3
174. I have longed for thy salvation, 0 Lord; and thy law is my delight.
BEFORE we close this Psalm, let us dwell once more upon this word — salvation. Common as is its use, to the believer it has a constant freshness and an infinite meaning. Do we wonder at his longing for it? Look at its fulness — including all the mercy of the everlasting covenant. Look at its ground — that work of Calvary’s cross once “finished,”4 and leaving nothing to be filled up or improved; standing out in all its glorious completeness; constraining the admiration, and encouraging the confidence, of the chief of sinners; but wholly disclaiming all assistance from the most eminent saint. Look at his simplicity — not keeping the sinner aloof from the Saviour — not hedging up or bewildering the open freeness of his path, but bringing him immediate peace and joy in resting upon the great atonement of the gospel.5 Mark its unchangeableness — independent
1 Psalm lxxxix. 19. 2 2 Cor. xii. 10.
3 Isaiah xli. 12, 13. Compare the whole passage, verses 10 — 16. * John xix. 30. 5 See Acts ii. 37 — 47; viii. 5 — 8, 39; xvi. 31 — 34. 1 Thess. i. 6’.
of and above all frames and feelings, so that, while “walking in darkness” we can “stay upon our God,”1 expecting salvation even from the hand that seems ready for our destruction 2 — leaving it to our heavenly Father to frown or to smile — to change as he pleaseth from the one to the other — and looking at every aspect of his countenance, as only a different arrangement of the same features of ineffable paternity; and the different, suitable, and seasonable expression of unchangeable covenant love.
Is not this an object for the longing of the soul, that feels its own pressing wants, and sees in this salvation an instant and full supply 1 This longing marks the character of evangelical religion — not merely duty, but delight. The mind wearies in the continued exertion for duty; but it readily falls in with delight. Duties become privileges, when Christ is their source and life. Thus every step of progress is progress in happiness. The world’s all to the believer is really nothing. It presents nothing to feed the appetite, or quench the thirst, of an immortal soul. Indeed the creatures were commissioned to withhold consolation, until every desire was concentrated in the single object, “Thou, O God, art the thing that I long for” 3 — until the sinner has found rest in the answer to his prayer — “Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation.“* And now he enjoys his earthly comforts,” as not abusing them,“5 because he loves them as God would have them loved, and longs for his salvation above them all. This is true religion — when the Lord of all occupies that place in the heart, which he fills in the universe — There he is “All in all.” Here the believer cries —” Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside
1 Isaiah 1. 10. 2 Job xiii. 15. 3 Psalm lxxi. 4. P. T.
* Ib. xxxv. 3. 5 1 Cor. vii. 31.
thee.“1 O what a privilege is it to have him in heart, in thought, and in view; to be rejoicing in his presence; and to be longing for a more full conformity to his image, and for a more lively enjoyment of his love! If this be but earth, what must heaven be! This longing is a satisfactory evidence of the work of God.2 It exercises the soul in habitual contemplation of the Saviour, in nearer communion with him, and supreme “delight in his law.” Such desires will be unutterably increased, and infinitely satisfied ’ in the fruition of his glorious Godhead.’3
But the Lord often brings this charge against his professing people — “Thou hast left thy first love.”4 The principle is not dead, but the energy is decayed. Human nature is prone to apostacy. Slumber unconsciously steals upon the soul. Faith is not in habitual exercise. The attraction of the Saviour is not set forth. His love is not meditated upon. The soul is satisfied with former affections to him. There is little heart to labour for him. The means of communion with him are slighted; the heart naturally becomes cold in spiritual desires, and warm in worldly pursuits; and too often without any smitings of conscience for divided love.
Some professors, indeed, consider this declension of affections to be a matter of course. The young convert is supposed to abound most in love, and, as he advances, his fervour gradually subsides into matured judgment. Those indeed, who “have no root in themselves,” lose their lively affections, and their religion with them.5 But surely the real principle of love cannot decay; that is, our esteem of God cannot be lowered: our “longing for his salvation” ‘cannot languish; our delight in its enjoyment cannot diminish, without guilt and loss
1 Psalm lxxiii. 25. 2 See Neh. i. 11. 3 Collect for Epiphany. 4 Revelations ii. 4. s See Matt. xiii. ’20, •’!.
to our souls. He claims our love,1 and it is most unreasonable to deny him his own. He is the same, as when we first loved him. Then we thought him worthy of our highest love. Do we now repent of having loved him so much? Have we found him less than our expectations? Can we bestow our heart elsewhere with stricter justice, or to better advantage? Do not all the grounds of our love to him continue in full force? Have they not rather increased every day and hour? What would an indulgent husband think of incessant and increasing attentions repaid with diminished affection? Oh! let us be ashamed of our indolence, and “remember” the times, when our longings for his salvation were more intense; when our communion with him was more heavenly: when we were ready to labour and suffer for him, and even to die to go home to his presence. Let us “repent” with deeper contrition, and “do our first works;” 2 never resting till we can take up afresh the language of delight — “/ have longed for thy salvation, 0 Lord.”
Some, however, of the Lord’s dear children are distressed in the conscious coldness of their spiritual affections. But if it be a mark of the decay of grace to “lose our first love,” it is at least a mark of the truth of grace to mourn over this loss. There is always a blessing for those “that hunger and thirst after righteousness.”3 These restless desires are the beating pulse of the hidden life; and if there be not always a sensible growth of desire and enjoyment, there may be (as with the trees in winter) growth at the root, in a more fixed habit of grace and love, in a deeper spirit of humility, and in a more established self-knowledge and simplicity. Yet the shortest way of
1 See Prov. xxiii. 20. 2 See Rev. ii. 5. 3 Matt. v. C.
peace will be to look off from our “longing for this salvation” to the ‘’salvation” itself. For nothing is more desecrating to this great work — nothing is more paralyzing to its saving power, than the incorporating with it the admixture of our own experience as the ground of hope. The most Christian feelings must find no place at the foundation. Indeed their continual variation renders them, especially in the hour of temptation, very uncertain. Yet amid all this fluctuation, Christ may always be safely trusted. While, therefore our coldness humbles us before him, let not brooding despondency cover his precious cross from view. Let not our eyes be so filled with tears of contrition, as to obscure the sight of his free and full sal vation. “Looking” singly “unto Jesus” as our peace and our life, is at once our duty, our safety, and the secret principle of our daily progress heavenward. We shall but realize the perception of our own emptiness in the contemplation of his unbounded fulness.
But the connection between “longing for salvation,” and “delight in the law,” is at least an incidental evidence, that right apprehensions of “salvation” must be grounded upon the word or “law of God;” and that a religion of feeling is a religion of delusion. Our delight is not only in his love, but in his law. And so practical is Christian privilege, that longing for salvation will always expand itself in habitual delight in the law: which in its turn will enlarge the desire for the full enjoyment of salvation. All spiritual desire therefore, that is not practical in its exercise, is impulse, excitement — not — as in this man of God — the religion of the heart — holiness, “delight.”
Would that this beautiful Psalm might quicken us to be followers of him, who evidently knew so much of the 1 See Hebrews xii. 2.
heavenly joys of religion! Why should we not, why do we not, determine to know as much of God as we can? Why are our “longings for his salvation” so transient and so few? The religion of thousands who bear the name is of a very different stamp — empty instead of solid — withering instead of profitable — insipid instead of delightful. If there be any exercise, it is only “the door turning upon hinges” * — movement without progress — their heads stored with knowledge, but no unction in the heart — “ever learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth.” 2
But the soul that really longs shall “not be ashamed of its hope.” Even to taste the present fruits — though it be but a taste — in a sense of reconciliation, liberty of access, a beam of the love of Jesus in the heart, is unutterable enjoyment. It strengthens the soul for endurance of trials, and for a devoted, self-denying, obedient service. But there are heights and depths of Divine love yet unexplored.3 He who has vouchsafed large apprehensions of them to others, “is rich in mercy to all that call upon him.”4 The fountain of everlasting love is ever flowing, ever full; and he who commands us to “open our mouths wide” — has promised, “I will fill them.” 5 After all, however, the grand consummation is the object to which these longings for salvation stretch with full expansion. The fulness 6 and likeness of God 7 — the complete and everlasting deliverance from sin 8 — the glorious “manifestation of the sons of God y” the coming of the Lord.10 Then — not till then — will they be fully and eternally satisfied. Praised be God! “Now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.” ’
I Prov. xxvi. 14. 2 2 Tim. iii. 7. 3 Eph. iii. 18, 19. 4 Rom. x. 12. 5 Psalm lxxxi. 10. 6 Eph. iii. 19.
7 Psa. xvii. 15. Phil. iii. 20, 21. 8 Rom. viii. 23. 2 Cor. v. 1 — 8. 9 Rom. viii. 19 — 21. 10 Rev. xxii. 23.
II Rom. xiii. 11. ‘This salvation has been the object of the hopes,
Lord of all power and might! create in our souls a more intense “longing for thy salvation,” and a more fervent “delight in thy law.” And as our “longings for thy salvation” increase, oh! nail us to the door posts of thy house, that we may be thy happy servants for ever!
175. Let my soul live, and it shall praise thee: and let thy judgments help me.
THERE must be life in order to praise. For how can the dead speak? Yet is it as natural for the living soul to praise, as for the living man to speak. And is not the life that the Psalmist is now praying for, the salvation for which he was longing? The taste that he has re ceived makes him hunger for a higher and continued enjoyment; not for any selfish gratification, but that he might employ himself in the praise of his God. Indeed, the close of this Psalm exhibits that pervading character of praise, which has been generally remarked in the concluding Psalms of this sacred book. Yet he alone is fitted for this heavenly exercise, of whom it has been said — “This my son was dead, and is alive again.” 2 And how will he, who has” looked to the hole of the
the desires, and longing expectation of the faithful, from Adam to this hour; and will continue so to be, until he, who hath already visited us in great humility, shall come again in glorious majesty, to complete our redemption, and take us to himself.’ — Bishop Home. Compare also Scott in loco.
1 Verses 164, 171, 172. The last six Psalms are for the most part throughout the breathings of praise. They were probably written at the close of life, and may be considered as striking indications of a soul ripening for glory. As the perfumes of Arabia Felix are said to exhale their odours in the neighbouring provinces; so it is no marvel if, as “the sweet Psalmist of Israel” drew near to the happy country he should have inhaled its atmosphere of praise. 2 Luke xv. 24.
pit whence he has digged,” l who has been awakened to a sight of that tremendous gulf, from which he is but “scarcely saved,” 2 long to give utterance to the effusions of a praising heart! How will he cry for the quickening influence of “the Lord and Giver of life,” to stir him up to this delightful privilege! Praise springs from prayer — “Let my soul live, and it shall praise thee.” When the breathing of “life into our souls” enlivens our services, we become, in the noblest sense, “living souls.” 3
Too often, however, the consciousness of inconsistency, carelessness, and unspirituality, damps our song. But let every recollection of our sin be accompanied with an humble yet assured confidence in the Lord’s pardoning grace. The abominations of a desperately wicked and unsearchably deceitful heart may well lead us to “abhor ourselves in dust and ashes.” 4 Yet in the lowest depths of abasement, the Saviour’s blood, applied to the conscience, “cleanseth from all sin.” 5 He who once “passed by us, and saw us polluted in our blood, and said unto us, when we were in our blood, Live;”* still “holdeth our souls in life”7 — covering our daily infirmities, and maintaining our everlasting acceptance before God.
But while the song of praise dwells on our lips for life thus freely given, let us guard against all hinderance to its growth and influence. For if the life within waxes low, praise will be dull and heartless; but when the assured believer cries with acceptance — “Let my soul live, and it shall praise thee “— see how his spirit kindles with holy fire —” Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which according to his abun-
1 Isaiah li. 1. 2 1 Peter iv. 18. 3 Gen. ii. 7.
4 Job xlii. 6. 5 1 John i. 7. 6 Ezek. xvi. 6.
7 Psalm lxvi. 9.
dant mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead! “l The work of praise is now his nature, his element, his delight. No wonder, then, that he continues his cry for the daily renewal of his spiritual life, that he may return to this sweet antepast of heaven — “Let my soul live.” And, indeed, this life — the more it is known, the more will it form the constant matter for prayer. For what besides makes existence tolerable to a child of God? The mere actings of a sickly pulsation can never satisfy him. Considering how much nearer he might live to God than he has yet known, he longs for more vigorous influence of the Divine principle. In his most active enjoyments, his insufficiency for this sacred work presses upon him, and stirs up petition for help — “Let thy judgments help me.” Give me such an ’ enlightened apprehension of thy word — of thy character — of thy perfections as the God of my salvation, as may furnish abundant matter for unceasing praise; so that my daily exercise may be, “Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” 2
176. / have gone astray like a lost sheep: seek thy ser vant; for I do not forget thy commandments.
THE native disposition to wander from the fold is constant ground for prayer for the help of the Lord’s judgments — to give us clearer” light and preserving principles.
1 1 Peter i. 3. ‘It is sufficient forme — said Luther — triumphing in the very heat of conflict — ’ that I have a precious Redeemer — a pow erful High Priest — my Lord Jesus Christ. I will praise him as long as I have breath. If another will not join me in praising with me, what is that to me?’ — D’Aubigne’s History of the Reformation, Book iv. ch. i. 3 Ephesians v. 20.
Yet our need of this safeguard opens to us a most humbling truth. Who can gainsay the testimony from the mouth of God — that “all we like sheep have gone astray?” l But how afflicting is the thought, that this should not only be the description of a world living without God, but the confession even of God’s own people! And yet where is the child of God, that does not set his own seal with shame to the confession — / have gone astray like a lost sheep? “Who can understand his errors?” If he be not found — like Peter — in the open path of wandering — yet has he not need to cry, “Cleanse thou me from secret faults?” 2 Is he never led away by sense, fancy, or appetite? If the will be sincere, how far is it from being perfect! And only a little yielding — bending to the flesh — giving way to evil — who knoweth what may be the end of this crooked path? Who knoweth what pride — waywardness — earthliness may be working within, even while the gracious Lord is strengthening, guiding, comforting his poor straying sheep? That they should ever wander from privileges so great — from a God so good — from a Shepherd so kind! What can induce them to turn their backs upon their best Friend, and sin against the most precious love that was ever known, but something, that must, upon reflection, fill them with shame! The blame is readily cast upon the temptation of Satan, the seductive witcheries of the world, or some untoward circumstances. But whoever deals honestly with himself must trace the backsliding to his own heart — “This is my infirmity.” 3 And have we replaced what we have wilfully yielded up, with anything of equal or superior value? May it not be asked of us — “What fruit have ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed; for the end of those things in death.” 4 1 Isa. liii. 6. * Psa. xix. 12. * Ib. kxvii. 10. * Rom. vi. 21.
But there is no enjoyment, while distant from the beloved fold. It is as impossible for the child of God to be happy, when separated from his God, as if he were in the regions of eternal despair. He has not lost — he cannot wholly lose — his recollection of the forsaken blessing. In struggling weeping faith, he cries — “Seek thy servant.” ‘I cannot find my way back; l the good Shepherd must seek me. Once I knew the path; but now that I have wandered into bye-paths, I am no more able to return, than I was to come at first. I have no guide but the Shepherd whom I have left.’ How cheering then in his office character! — “Behold I, even I, will both search my sheep, and seek them out: as a shepherd seeketh out his flock in the day that he is among his sheep that are scattered; so will I seek out my sheep, and will deliver them out of all places where they have been scattered in the dark and cloudy day.” 2 Cannot I set my seal to his faithful discharge of his office — “He restoreth my soul?” 3
If I want further encouragement to guide my steps homeward, let me think of his own description of his tender faithfulness, and compassionate yearnings over his lost sheep; not showing it the way back to the fold, and leaving it to come after him: but “laying it upon his own shoulders, and bringing it home:” all upbraidings forgotten; all recollection of his own pains swallowed up in the joy, that he hath “found the sheep which was lost.” 4 Let me remember the express commission, that brought the Shepherd from heaven to earth — from the throne of God to the manger, and thence to the garden and cross, “to seek and to save that which was lost.” 5 Let me see upon him the special
1 ‘Domini, errare potui; redire non potui ’ — was Augustine’s true and humbling confession. 2 Ezek. xxxiv. 11, 12.
3 Psalm xxiii. 3. 4 Luke xv. 4 — 6. 6 Ib. xix 10.
mark of “the good shepherd, giving his life for the sheep.” l Let me observe this sacrifice as covering the guilt of my wanderings, and opening my way to return — yea drawing me into the way2 — surely I may add to my contrite confession the prayer of confidence — seek thy servant, I cannot forbear to plead, that though a rebellious prodigal, I am still “thy servant,” thy child: I still bear the child’s mark of an interest in thy covenant. Though a wanderer from the fold, “/ do not forget thy commandments.” Nothing can erase thv law, which was “written in my mind and inward parts” 3 by the finger and Spirit of God, as an earnest of my adoption — as the pledge of my restoration. What man writes is easily blotted out: what God writes is indelible. Let me then lie humbled and self-abased. But let me not forget my claim — what has been done for me. Thus again I hope to be received as a “dear” and “pleasant child;” 4 again to be clothed with “the best robe,” to be welcomed with fresh tokens of my Father’s everlasting love,5 and to be assured with the precious promise — “My sheep shall never perish, and none shall pluck them out of my hand.” 6
Such, Christian reader, would be the application we should make of this verse to ourselves; and such a penitent confession of our backslidings, united with a believing dependence on the long-tried grace and faithfulness of our God, would form a suitable conclusion to our meditations on this most interesting Psalm. We would unite the publican’s prayer with the great Apostle’s confidence; and while in holy brokenness of heart we would wish to live and die, smiting upon our breast,
1 Johnx. 11. * Isaiah liii. 5, 6.
3 Jer. xxxi. 33. * Ib. v. 20.
6 1 Peter 24, 25. Luke xv. 22, 23.
6 John x. ’28.
z and saying, “God be merciful to me a sinner: “’ the remembrance of our adoption warrants the expression of assurance,” I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed to him against that day.” 2 Yet, as it regards the experience of David, is there not something striking, and we had almost said, unexpected, in the conclusion of this Psalm? To hear one — who has throughout been expressing such holy and joyful aspirations for the salvation of his God, such fervent praises of his love, that we seem to shrink back from the comparison with him, as if considering him almost on the verge of heaven — to hear this “man after God’s own heart,” sinking himself to the lowest dust, under the sense of the evil of his heart, and his perpetual tendency to wander from his God, is indeed a most instructive lesson. It marks the believer’s conflict sustained to the end — the humility, and yet the strength of his confidence — the highest notes of praise combining with the deepest expressions of abasement — forming that harmony of acceptable service, which ascends “like pillars of smoke “3 before God. And thus will our Christian progress be chequered, until we reach the regions of unmixed praise, where we shall no longer mourn over our wanderings, no longer feel any inclination to err from our Shepherd’s presence, no more experience the wretchedness of distance from him, or the difficulty of returning to him — where we shall be eternally safe in the heavenly fold, to “go no more out.“4 For “HE
THAT SITTETH ON THE THRONE SHALL DWELL AMONG THEM; THEY SHALL HUNGER NO MORE, NEITHER THIRST ANY MORE; NEITHER SHALL THE SUN LIGHT ON THEM,
1 Lukexviii. 13. 2 2 Tim. i. 12.
3 Cunt. iii. 6. 4 Rev. iii. 12.
NOR ANY HEAT; FOR THE LAMB WHICH IS IN THE MIDST OF THE THRONE SHALL FEED THEM,. AND SHALL LEAD THEM UNTO LIVING FOUNTAINS OF WATERS; AND GOD SHALL WIPE AWAY ALL TEARS FROM THEIR EYES.” ’
1 Rev. vii. 15 — 17.