1. I cried unto God with my voice. This psalm has much sadness in it, but we may be sure it
will end well, for it begins with prayer, and prayer never has an ill issue.
Asaph did not run to man but to the Lord, with the natural, unaffected,
unfeigned expression of pain. He used his voice also, for though vocal
utterance is not necessary to the life of prayer, it often seems forced upon us
by the energy of our desires. Even unto God with my voice. He needed an
answer, he expected one, he was eager to have it soon, therefore he cried again
and again, and with his voice, for the sound helped his earnestness. And he
gave ear unto me. Importunity prevailed. The gate opened to the steady
knock. It will be so with us in our hour of trial; the God of grace will hear
us in due season.
2. In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord. All day long his distress drove him to his God, so that
when night came he continued still in the same search. God had hidden his face
from his servant; therefore the first care of the troubled saint was to seek
his Lord again. This was going to the root of the matter and removing the main
impediment first. Diseases and tribulations are easily enough endured when God
is found of us, but without him they crush us to the earth. My sore ran in
the night, and ceased not. Some of us know what it is, both physically and
spiritually, to be compelled to use these words: no respite has been afforded
us by the silence of the night, our bed has been a rack to us, our body has
been in torment, and our spirit in anguish. It appears that this sentence is
wrongly translated, and should be, “My hand was stretched out all night.”
This shows that his prayer ceased not, but with uplifted hand he continued to
seek succor of his God. My soul refused to be comforted. He refused some
comforts as too weak, others as untrue, others as unhallowed; but chiefly
because of distraction, he declined even those grounds of consolation which
ought to have been effectual with him. As a sick man turns away even from the
most nourishing food, so did he. It is impossible to comfort those who refuse
to be comforted. You may bring them to the waters of the promise, but who will
make them drink?
3. I remembered God, and was troubled. He who is the well-spring of delight to faith became an
object of dread to the psalmist’s distracted heart. The justice, holiness,
power, and truth of God have all a dark side, and indeed all the attributes may
be made to look black upon us if our eye be evil; even the brightness of divine
love blinds us, and fills us with a horrible suspicion that we have neither
part nor lot in it. He is wretched indeed whose memories of the Ever Blessed
prove distressing to him; yet the best of men know the depth of this abyss. I
complained, and my spirit was overwhelmed. He mused and mused, but only sank
the deeper. His life itself seemed crushed into the earth. It is in such a case
that death is coveted as a relief. Selah. Le the song go softly; this is
no merry dance for the swift of feet; pause a while, and let sorrow take breath
between her sighs.
4. Thou holdest mine eyes waking. My eyes continue to watch as sentinels forbidden to rest.
Sleep is a great comforter, but it forsakes the sorrowful, and then their
sorrow deepens and eats into the soul. How much we owe to him who gives his
beloved sleep! I am so troubled that I cannot speak. Great griefs are
dumb. Deep streams brawl not among the pebbles like the shallow brooklets which
live on passing showers. Words fail the man whose heart fails him. He had cried
to God, but he could not speak to man; what a mercy it is that if we can do the
first, we need not despair though the second should be quite out of our power.
Sleepless and speechless Asaph was reduced to great extremities, and yet he
rallied, and so shall we.
5. I have considered the days of old, the years of ancient
times. If no good was in the present,
memory ransacked the past to find consolation. It is our duty to search for
comfort, and not in sullen indolence to yield to despair; and there is scarcely
any theme more likely to prove consolatory than that which deals with the years
of olden time, when the Lord’s faithfulness was tried and proved by hosts of
his people. Yet even this created depression rather than delight in the good
man’s soul, for he contrasted his own mournful condition with all that was
bright in the venerable experiences of ancient saints, and so complained the
more. Ah, sad calamity of a jaundiced mind to see nothing as it should be seen,
but everything as through a veil of mist.
6. I call to remembrance my song in the night. At other times his spirit had a song for the darkest hour,
but now he could only recall the strain as a departed memory. I commune with
mine own heart. He did not cease from introspection, for he was resolved to
find the bottom of his sorrow, and trace it to its fountainhead. He made sure
work of it by talking with his inmost heart. He was resolved that he would not
tamely die of despair, but would fight for his hope to the last moment of his
life. And my spirit made diligent search. He ransacked his experience,
his memory, his intellect, his whole nature, his entire self, either to find
comfort or to discover the reason why it was denied him. That man will not die
by the hand of the enemy who has enough force of soul remaining to struggle in
this fashion.
7. Will the Lord cast off for ever? He painfully knew that the Lord might leave his people for
a season, but will the Lord utterly and finally reject those who are his own?
No instance in ancient times led him to fear that such could be the case. And
will he be favorable no more? The questions are suggested by fear, but they
are also the cure of her. It is a blessed thing to have grace enough to look
such questions in the face, for their answer is self-evident and eminently
fitted to cheer the heart.
8. Is his marcy clean gone for ever? If he has no love for his elect, has he not still his mercy
left? Has he no pity for the sorrowful? Doth his promise fall for evermore?
His word is pledged to those who plead with him. Shall it be said that from one
generation to another the Lord’s word has fallen to the ground? It is a wise
thing thus to put unbelief through the catechism. Each one of the questions is
a dart aimed at the very heart of despair.
9. Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Has El, the Mighty One, become great in everything but
grace? Can he forget to exercise that attribute which lies nearest to his
essence, for he is love? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies?
Are the pipes of goodness choked up so that love can no more flow through them?
Does Jehovah no longer yearn towards his own beloved children? Thus unbelief
raises questions, and we will meet it with questions: it makes us think and act
ridiculously, and we will heap scorn upon it. Selah. Here rest awhile,
for the battle of questions needs a lull.
10. And I said, This is my infirmity. He has won the day, he talks reasonably now, and surveys
the field with a cooler mind. He confesses that unbelief is an infirmity, a
weakness, a folly, a sin. He may also be understood to mean, “this is my
appointed sorrow,” I will bear it without complaint. When we perceive that our
affliction is meted out by the Lord, and is the ordained portion of our cup, we
become reconciled to it, and no longer rebel against the inevitable. Why should
we not be content if it be the Lord’s will? But I will remember the years of
the right hand of the Most High. Here a good deal is supplied by our
translators, and they make the sense to be that the psalmist would console
himself by remembering the goodness of God to himself and other of his people
in times gone by; but the original seems to consist only of the words, “the
years of the right hand of the Most High,” and to express the idea that his
long continued affliction, reaching through several years, was allotted to him
by the Sovereign Lord of all. It is well when a consideration of the divine
goodness and greatness silences all complaining, and creates a childlike
acquiescence.
11. I will remember the works of the Lord.
Fly back, my soul, away from present turmoils, to the grandeurs of history, the
sublime deeds of Jehovah, the Lord of Hosts; for he is the same and is ready
even now to defend his servants as in days gone by. Surely I will remember
thy wonders of old. Whatever else may glide into oblivion, the marvelous
works of the Lord in the ancient days must not be forgotten. When faith has its
seven years of famine, memory like Joseph in Egypt opens her granaries.
12. I will meditate also of all thy work. Sweet work to enter into Jehovah’s work of grace, and there
to lie down and ruminate, every thought being absorbed in the one precious
object. And talk of thy doings. It is well that the overflow of the
mouth should indicate the good matter which fills the heart. Meditation makes
rich talking; it is to be lamented that so much of the conversation of
believers is utterly barren, because they take no time for contemplation.
Meditative people should be talkers, otherwise they are mental misers, mill
which grind corn only for the miller. The subject of our meditation should be
choice, and then our talk will be edifying; if we meditate on folly and pretend
to speak wisdom, our doublemindedness will soon be known to everyone. Holy talk
following upon meditation has a consoling power in it for ourselves as well as
for those who listen.
13. Thy way, O God, is in the sanctuary, or, “in holiness.” In the holy place we understand our
God, and rest assured that all his ways are just and right. When we cannot
trace his way, because it is “in the sea,” it is a rich consolation that we
can trust it, for it is in holiness. We must have fellowship with holiness of
mind if we would understand “the ways of God to man.” He who would be wise
must worship. The pure in heart shall see God, and pure worship is the way to the
philosophy of providence. Who is so great a God as our God? In him the
good and the great are blended. He surpasses in both.
14. Thou art the God that doest wonders. Thou alone art Almighty. The false gods are surrounded with
the pretense of wonders, but thou really workest them. It is according to thy
custom and use. Here is renewed reason for holy confidence. Thou hast
declared thy strength among the people. Not only Israel, but all the
nations have seen Jehovah’s power. God’s providence and grace are both full of
displays of his power; he is in the latter especially conspicuous as “mighty
to save.” Who will not be strong in faith when there is so strong an arm to
lean upon? Shall our trust be doubtful when his power is beyond all question?
15. Thou hast with thine arm redeemed thy people, the sons
of Jacob and Joseph. All Israel, the two tribes of
Joseph as well as those which sprang from the other sons of Jacob, were brought
out of Egypt by a display of divine power, which is here ascribed not to the
hand but to the arm of the Lord, because it was the fullness of his might. He
who brought up his people from the house of bondage will continue to redeem and
deliver till we come into the promised rest. Selah. Here we have another
pause preparatory to a final burst of song.
16. The waters saw thee, O God, the waters saw thee; they
were afraid. As if conscious of its Maker’s
presence, the sea was ready to flee from his face. The water saw its God, but
man refuses to discern him; it was afraid, but proud sinners are rebellious and
fear not the Lord. The depths also were troubled. Quiet caves of the
sea, far down in the abyss, were moved with terror of the God of Israel.
17. The clouds poured out water. Obedient to the Lord, the lower region of the atmosphere
yielded its aid to overthrow the Egyptian host. The skies sent out a sound.
From the loftier regions thundered the dread artillery of the Lord of Hosts.
Peal on peal the skies sounded over the heads of the routed enemies, confusing
their minds and adding to their horror. Thine arrows also went abroad.
Lightnings flew like bolts from the bow of God. All the creatures wait upon
their God, and show themselves strong to overthrow his enemies.
18. The voice of thy thunder was in the heaven, or “in the whirlwind,” as when a mighty man in battle
urges forward his charger, and shouts to it aloud. The lightnings lightened
the world. No need for other light amid the battle of that terrible night;
the whole universe was illuminated in honor of Jehovah’s triumph. The earth
trembled and shook. It quaked and quaked again. The solid shore heaved in
dread. How dreadful art thou, O God, when thou comest forth to humble thine
arrogant adversaries.
19. Thy way is in the sea. Far down in secret channels of the deep is thy roadway;
when thou wilt, thou canst make a sea a highway for thy glorious march. And
thy path in the great waters. There, where the billows urge and swell, thou
still dost walk, Lord of each crested wave. And thy footsteps are not known.
None can follow thy tracks by foot or eye. Thou art alone in thy glory, and thy
ways are hidden from mortal ken. Thy purposes thou wilt accomplish, but the
means are often concealed, indeed they are in themselves too vast and
mysterious for human understanding.
20. What a
transition from tempest to peace, from wrath to love. Quietly as a flock Israel
was guided, by human agency which veiled the excessive glory of the divine
presence. Therefore, with devout joy and full of consolation, we close this
psalm, the song of one who forgot how to speak and yet learned to sing far more
sweetly than his fellows.
Excerpt from:
The Treasury of David
By Charles H Spurgeon
