1. As the
hunted hart instinctively seeks the river to bathe its smoking flanks and to
escape the dogs, even so my weary, persecuted soul pants after the Lord my God.
Debarred from public worship, David was heartsick. Ease he did not seek, honor
he did not covet, but the enjoyment of communion with God was an urgent and
absolute necessity, like water to a stag. Have you personally felt the same?
The next best thing to living in the light of the Lord’s love is to be unhappy
till we have it, and to pant hourly after it. Thirst is a perpetual appetite.
When it is as natural for us to long after God as for an animal to thirst, it
is well with our souls, however painful our feelings. The eagerness of our
desires may be pleaded with God, and the more so because there are special
promises for the importunate and fervent.
2. My soul.
All my nature, my inmost self. Thirsteth. Hunger you can palliate, but
thirst is awful, insatiable, deadly. For God. Not merely for the temple
and the ordinances, but for fellowship with God himself. None but the spiritual
can sympathize with this thirst. For the living God. Because he lives,
and gives the living water, therefore we with greater eagerness desire him. When
shall I come and appear before God? He who loves the Lord loves also the
assemblies wherein his name is adored. Vain are all pretenses to religion where
the outward means of grace have no attraction. David was never so much at home
as in the house of the Lord; he was not content with private worship; he did
not forsake the place where saints assemble, as the manner of some is. After
God, his Elohim (his God to be worshiped, who had entered into covenant with
him), he pined even as the drooping flowers for the dew. If all our resortings
to public worship were viewed as appearances before God, it would be a sure
mark of grace to delight in them. Alas, how many appear before the minister, or
their fellow-men, and think that enough! “To see the face of God” is a nearer
translation of the Hebrew; but the two ideas may be combined—he would see his
God and be seen by him; this is worth thirsting after!
3. My tears have been my meat day and night. Salty meats, but healthful to the soul. Those who come to
tears, constant tears, plenteous tears, are in earnest indeed. There is a dry
grief far more terrible than showery sorrows. David’s tears, since they were
shed because God was blasphemed, were “honorable dew,” drops of holy water,
such as Jehovah puts in his bottle. While they continually say unto me,
Where is thy God? Cruel taunts come naturally from cowardly minds. Surely
they might have left the mourner alone; he could weep no more than he did—it
was a supererogation of malice to pump more tears from a heart which already
overflowed. Note how incessant was the jeer, and how artfully they framed it!
It cut the good man to the bone to have the faithfulness of his God impugned.
The wicked know that our worst misfortune would be to lose God’s favor; hence
their diabolical malice leads them to declare that such is the case. Glory be to
God, they lie in their throats, for our God is in the heavens, and in the
furnace too, succoring his people.
4. When I remember those things, I pour out my soul in me. When he harped upon his woes his heart melted into water
and was poured out upon itself. God hidden, and foes raging, a pair of evils
enough to bring down the stoutest heart! Yet why let reflections so gloomy
engross us, since the result is of no value: merely to turn the soul on itself,
to empty it from itself into itself is useless; how much better to pour out the
heart before the Lord! The prisoner’s treadwheel might sooner land him in the
skies than mere inward questioning raise us nearer to consolation. For I had
gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God. Painful reflections
were awakened by the memory of past joys; he had mingled in the pious throng,
their numbers had hoped to give him exhilaration and to awaken holy delight,
their company had been a charm to him as with them he ascended the hill of
Zion. With frequent strains of song, he and the people of Jehovah had marched
in reverent ranks up to the shrine of sacrifice, the dear abode of peace and
holiness. Far away from such goodly company the holy man pictures the sacred
scene and dwells upon the details of the pious march. With the voice of joy
and praise, with a multitude that kept holyday. Perhaps he alludes to the
removal of the ark and to the glorious gatherings of the tribes on that grand
national holy day and holiday. How changed his present place! For Zion, a
wilderness; for the priests in white linen, soldiers in garments of war; for
the song, the sneer of blasphemy; for the festivity, lamentation; for joy in
the Lord, a mournful dirge over his absence. David appears to have had a
peculiarly tender remembrance of the singing of the pilgrims, and
assuredly it is the most delightful part of worship and that which comes
nearest to the adoration of heaven. What a degradation to supplant the
intelligent song of the whole congregation by the theatrical prettinesses of a
quartet, the refined niceties of a choir, or inanimate bellows and pipes! We
might as well pray by machinery as praise by it.
5. Why art thou cast down, O my soul? As though he were two men, the psalmist talks to himself.
His faith reasons with his fears, his hope argues with his sorrows. These
present troubles, are they to last forever? The rejoicings of my foes, are they
more than empty talk? My absence from the solemn feasts, is that a perpetual
exile? Why this deep depression? To search out the causes of our sorrow is
often the best surgery for grief. Self-ignorance is not bliss; in this case it
is misery. The mist of ignorance magnifies the causes of our alarm; a clearer
view will make monsters dwindle into trifles. Why art thou disquieted within
me? Why is my quiet gone? If I cannot keep a public Sabbath, yet wherefore
do I deny my soul her indoor Sabbath? Why am I agitated like a troubled sea,
and why do my thoughts make a noise like a tumultuous multitude? The causes are
not enough to justify such utter yielding to despondency. Up, my heart! Your
castings down will turn to liftings up, and your disquietudes to calm. Hope
thou in God. If every evil is let loose from Pandora’s box, yet is there
hope at the bottom. God is unchangeable, and therefore his grace is the ground
for unshaken hope. If everything be dark, yet the day will come, and meanwhile
hope carries stars in her eyes; her lamps are not dependent upon oil from
without, her light is fed by secret visitations of God, which sustain the
spirit. For I shall yet praise him. A loss of the present sense of God’s
love is not a loss of that love itself; hope knows her title to be good when
she cannot read it clear. For I shall yet praise him for the help of his
countenance. Salvations come from the propitious face of God, and he will
yet lift up his countenance upon us. Note well that the main hope and chief
desire of David rest in the smile of God. This verse, like the singing of Paul
and Silas, looses chains and shakes prison walls. He who can use such heroic
language in his gloomy hours will surely conquer.
6. O my God, my soul is cast down within me. Perhaps the spasm of despondency returned. With God the
song begins the second time more nearly than the first. The singer was also a
little more tranquil. Outward expression of desire was gone; there was no
visible panting; the sorrow was now all restrained within doors. Within or upon
himself he was cast down; it may well be so while our thoughts look more within
than upward. If self were to furnish comfort, we should have but poor
provender. There is no solid foundation for comfort in such fickle frames as
our heart is subject to. It is well to tell the Lord how we feel, and the more
plain the confession the better. Therefore will I remember thee. Blessed
downcasting which drives us to so sure a rock of refuge as thee, O Lord! From
the hill Mizar. He recalls his seasons of choice communion by the river and
among the hills, and especially that dearest hour upon the little hill where
love spoke her sweetest language and revealed her nearest fellowship. It is
great wisdom to store up in memory our choice occasions of converse with
heaven; we may want them another day, when the Lord is slow in bringing back
his banished ones, and our soul is aching with fear. Or does David mean that
even where he was he would think of his God; does he declare that, forgetful of
time and place, he would count Hermon as holy as Zion, and even Mizar, that
insignificant rising ground, as glorious as the mountains which are round about
Jerusalem!
7. Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts. Thy severe dealings with me seem to excite all creation to
attack me; heaven, and earth, and hell call to each other, stirring each other
up in dreadful conspiracy against my peace. As in a waterspout, the deeps above
and below clasp hands, so it seemed to David that heaven and earth united to
create a tempest around him. His woes were incessant and overwhelming. His soul
seemed drowned as in a universal deluge of trouble, over whose waves the
providence of the Lord moved as a watery pillar, in dreadful majesty inspiring
the utmost terror. As for the afflicted one he was like a mariner floating on a
mast, almost every moment submerged. All thy waves and thy billows are gone
over me. David thought that every trouble in the world had met in him, but
he exaggerated, for all the breaking waves of Jehovah have passed over
none but the Lord Jesus. Yet what a plight to be in! Most of the heirs of
heaven have experienced the like. This is a deep experience unknown to babes in
grace, but common enough to such as do business on great waters of affliction:
to such it is some comfort to remember that the waves and billows are the
Lord’s, thy waves and thy billows;
they are all sent and directed by him, and achieve his designs.
8. Yet the Lord
will command his lovingkindness in the daytime. Loving-kindness is a noble life-belt in a rough sea. The
day may darken into a strange and untimely midnight, but the love of God
ordained of old to be the portion of the elect shall be by sovereign grace
meted out to them. No day shall ever dawn on an heir of grace and find him
altogether forsaken of his Lord; the Lord reigns, and as a sovereign he will
with authority command mercy to be reserved for his chosen. And in the
night. Both divisions of the day will be illuminated with special love, and
no stress of trial will prevent it. Our God is God of the nights as well as the
days. His song shall be with me. Songs of praise for blessings received
will cheer the gloom of the night. The belief that we shall yet glorify the
Lord for mercy given in extremity is a delightful stay to the soul. And my
prayer unto the God of my life. Prayer is yoked with praise. The living God
is the God of our life; from him we derive it, with him in prayer and praise we
spend it, to him we devote it, in him we shall perfect it. To be assured that
our sighs and songs will both have free access to our glorious Lord is to have
reasons for hope in the most deplorable condition.
9. I will say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me? Faith is allowed to inquire of her God the causes of his
displeasure, and she is even permitted to expostulate with him and put him in
mind of his promises, and ask why apparently they are not fulfilled. If the
Lord be indeed our refuge, when we find no refuge, it is time to be raising the
question, “Why is this?” Yet we must not let go our hold; the Lord must be my
rock still. Why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?
Surely God can have no pleasure in seeing the faces of his servants stained and
squalid with their tears; he can find no content in the harshness with which
their foes assail them. How can the strong God, who is as firm and abiding as a
rock, be also as hard and unmoved as a rock towards those who trust in him?
Such inquiries humbly pressed often afford relief to the soul. To know the
reason for sorrow is in part to know how to escape it, or at least to endure
it. Lack of attentive consideration often makes adversity appear to be more
mysterious and hopeless than it really is. It is a pitiable thing for anyone to
have a limb amputated, but when we know that the operation was needful in order
to save life, we are glad to hear that it has been successfully performed.
10. As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me. Cruel mockeries cut deeper than the flesh; they reach the
soul. The tongue cuts to the bone, and its wounds are hard to cure. While
they say daily unto me, Where is thy God? This is the unkindest cut of all,
reflecting as it does both upon the Lord’s faithfulness and his servant’s
character. Such was the malice of David’s foes, that they repeated the cruel
question daily. Surely this was enough to madden him, and perhaps would
have done so had he not resorted to prayer.
11. Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou
disquieted within me? He finds after all no sufficient
ground for being disquieted. Looked in the face, his fears were not so
overwhelming as they seemed when shrouded in obscurity. Hope thou in God.
Let the anchor still keep its hold. God is faithful, God is love, there is room
and reason for hope. Who is the health of my countenance and my God.
This is the same hopeful expression as that contained in verse 5, but the
addition of and my God shows that the writer was growing in confidence,
and was able defiantly to reply to the question, “Where is thy God?” Here he
is, ready to deliver me. I am not ashamed to own him amid your sneers and
taunts, for he will rescue me out of your hands. Thus faith closes the
struggle, a victor in fact by anticipation, and in heart by firm reliance. The
saddest countenance will yet be made to shine, if there be a taking of God at
his word and an expectation of his salvation.
Excerpt from:
The Treasury of David
By Charles H Spurgeon
