1 Jehovah, not in Thine anger do Thou correct me,
And not in Thy hot wrath do Thou chastise me.
2 Be gracious to me, Jehovah, for I am withered away;
Heal me, Jehovah, for my bones are dismayed:
3 And my soul is sorely dismayed;
And Thou, Jehovah--how long?
4 Return, Jehovah, deliver my soul;
Save me for the sake of Thy loving-kindness.
5 For in death there is no remembrance of Thee;
In Sheol who gives thee thanks?
6 I am wearied out with my groaning;
Every night I make my bed swim;
With my tears I melt away my couch.
7 My eye is wasted with trouble;
It is aged because of all my oppressors.
8 Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity,
For Jehovah has heard the voice of my weeping.
9 Jehovah has heard my supplication;
Jehovah will accept my prayer.
10 Ashamed and sore dismayed shall be all my enemies;
They shall turn back, shall be ashamed in a moment.
The theme and progress of thought in this psalm are very common,
especially in those attributed to David. A soul compassed by enemies,
whose hate has all but sapped the life out of it, "catches at God's
skirts and prays," and thence wins confidence which anticipates
deliverance and victory. There are numerous variations of this
_leitmotif_, and each of the psalms which embody it has its own beauty,
its own discords resolved into its own harmonies. The representation of
the trouble of spirit as producing wasting of the body is also frequent,
and is apparently not to be taken as metaphor, though not to be pressed,
as if the psalmist were at once struck with the two calamities of
hostility and disease, but the latter is simply the result of the
former, and will disappear with it. It is needless to look for a
historical occasion of the psalm, but to an ear that knows the tones of
sorrow, or to a heart that has itself uttered them, the supposition that
in these pathetic cries we hear only a representative Israelite
bewailing the national ruin sounds singularly artificial. If ever the
throb of personal anguish found tears and a voice, it does so in this
psalm. Whoever wrote it wrote with his blood. There are in it no obvious
references to events in the recorded life of David, and hence the
ascription of it to him must rest on something else than the
interpretation of the psalm. The very absence of such allusions is a
fact to be dealt with by those who deny the accuracy of the attribution
of authorship. But, however that question may be settled, the worth of
this little plaintive cry depends on quite other considerations than the
discovery of the name of the singer or the nature of his sorrow. It is a
transcript of a perennial experience, a guide for a road which all feet
have to travel. Its stream runs turbid and broken at first, but calms
and clears as it flows. It has four curves or windings, which can
scarcely be called strophes without making too artificial a framework
for such a simple and spontaneous gush of feeling. Still the transitions
are clear enough.
In vv. 1-3 we have a cluster of sharp, short cries to God for help,
which all mean the same thing. In each of these the great name of
Jehovah is repeated, and in each the plea urged is simply the sore
need of the suppliant. These are no "vain repetitions," which are
pressed out of a soul by the grip of the rack; and it is not "taking
the name of the Lord in vain" when four times in three short verses
the passionate cry for help is winged with it as the arrow with its
feather. Two thoughts fill the psalmist's consciousness, or rather one
thought--the Lord--and one feeling--his pains. In ver. 1 the Hebrew
makes "in Thine anger" and "in Thine hot wrath" emphatic by setting
these two phrases between the negative and the verb: "Not in Thine
anger rebuke me; not in Thy heat chasten me." He is willing to submit
to both rebuke and chastisement; but he shrinks appalled from that
form of either which tends to destruction, not to betterment. There
are chastisements in tenderness, which express God's love, and there
are others which manifest His alienation and wrath. This psalmist did
not think that all Divine retribution was intended for reformation. To
him there was such a thing as wrath which slew. Jeremiah has the same
distinction (x. 24), and the parallel has been made an argument for
the later date of the psalm. Cheyne and others assume that Jeremiah is
the original, but that is simple conjecture, and the prophet's
conspicuous fondness for quotations from older authors makes the
supposition more probable that the psalm is the earlier. Resignation
and shrinking blend in that cry, in which a heart conscious of evil
confesses as well as implores, recognises the justice and yet
deprecates the utmost severity of the blow. He who asks, "Not in Thine
anger rebuke me," thereby submits to _loving_ chastisement.
Then follow in vv. 2 and 3 three short petitions, which are as much
cries of pain as prayers, and as much prayers as cries of pain. In the
two former the prayer is put first, and its plea second; in the last
the order is reversed, and so the whole is, as it were, enclosed in a
circlet of prayer. Two words make the petition in each clause, "Have
mercy on me, Jehovah" (tastelessly corrected by Grätz into "Revive
me"), and "Heal me, Jehovah." The third petition is daring and
pregnant in its incompleteness. In that emphatic "And Thou, Jehovah,"
the psalmist looks up, with almost reproach in his gaze, to the
infinite Personality which seems so unaccountably passive. The hours
that bring pain are leaden-footed, and their moments each seem an
eternity. The most patient sufferer may cry, "How long?" and God will
not mistake the voice of pain for that of impatience. This threefold
prayer, with its triple invocation, has a triple plea, which is all
substantially one. His misery fills the psalmist's soul, and he
believes that God will feel for him. He does not at first appeal to
God's revealed character, except in so far as the plaintive
reiteration of the Divine name carries such an appeal, but he spreads
out his own wretchedness, and he who does that has faith in God's
pity. "I am withered away," like a faded flower. "My bones are
vexed";--the physical effects of his calamity, "bones" being put for
the whole body, and regarded as the seat of sensibility, as is
frequently the usage. "Vexed" is too weak a rendering. The idea is
that of the utmost consternation. Not only the body, but the soul,
partakes in the dismay. The "soul" is even more shaken than the
"bones"; that is to say, mental agitation rather than physical disease
(and the latter as the result of the former) troubles the psalmist. We
can scarcely fail to remember the added sanctity which these
plaintive words have received, since they were used by the Prince of
sufferers when all but in sight of the cross.
The next turn of thought includes vv. 4, 5, and is remarkable for the
new pleas on which it rests the triple prayer, "Return; deliver;
save." God is His own motive, and His self-revelation in act must
always be self-consistent. Therefore the plea is presented, "for Thy
loving-kindness' sake." It beseeches Him to be what He is, and to show
Himself as still being what He had always been. The second plea is
striking both in its view of the condition of the dead and in its use
of that view as an argument with God. Like many other psalmists, the
writer thinks of Sheol as the common gathering-place of the departed,
a dim region where they live a poor shadowy life, inactive, joyless,
and all but godless, inasmuch as praise, service, and fellowship with
Him have ceased.
That view is equally compatible with the belief in a resurrection and
the denial of it, for it assumes continued individual consciousness.
It is the prevailing tone in the Psalter and in Job and Ecclesiastes.
But in some psalms, which embody the highest rapture of inward and
mystical devotion, the sense of present union with God bears up the
psalmist into the sunlight of the assurance that against such a union
death can have no power, and we see the hope of immortality in the
very act of dawning on the devout soul. May we not say that the
subjective experience of the reality of communion with God now is
still the path by which the certainty of its perpetuity in a future
life is reached? The objective proof in the resurrection of Jesus
Christ is verified by this experience. The psalmists had not the
former, but, having the latter, they attained to at all events
occasional confidence in a blessed life beyond. But the tone of such
triumphant glimpses as xvi. 10, xvii. 15, xlix. 15, lxxiii. 24, is of
a higher mood than that of this and other psalms, which probably
represent the usual view of devout Hebrews.
The fact, as it appeared to those at the then stage of revelation,
that remembrance and praise of God were impossible in Sheol, is urged
as a plea. That implies the psalmist's belief that God cared for men's
praise--a thought which may be so put as to make Him an almighty
Selfishness, but which in its true aspect is the direct inference from
the faith that He is infinite Love. It is the same sweet thought of
Him which Browning has when he makes God say, "I miss my little human
praise." God's joy in men's praise is joy in men's love and in their
recognition of His love.
The third turn of feeling is in vv. 6 and 7. The sense of his own
pains which, in the two previous parts of the psalm, had been
contending with the thought of God, masters the psalmist in these
dreary verses, in which the absence of the name of God is noteworthy
as expressive of his absorption in brooding over his misery. The
vehemence of the manifestations of sorrow and the frankness of the
record of these manifestations in the song are characteristic of the
emotional, demonstrative Eastern temperament, and strike our more
reticent dispositions as excessive. But however expressed in
unfamiliar terms, the emotion which wails in these sad verses is only
too familiar to men of all temperaments. All sad hearts are tempted to
shut out God and to look only at their griefs. There is a strange
pleasure in turning round the knife in the wound and recounting the
tokens of misery. This man feels some ease in telling how he had
exhausted his strength with groaning and worn away the sleepless
night with weeping. Night is ever the nurse of heavy thought, and
stings burn again then. The hyperbolical expressions that he had set
his bed afloat with his tears and "melted" it (as the word means) are
matched by the other hyperboles which follow, describing the effect of
this unmeasured weeping on his eyes. He had wept them away, and they
were bleared and dim like those of an old man. The cause of this
passion of weeping is next expressed, in plain words, which connect
this turn of the thought with the next verses, and seem to explain the
previously mentioned physical pains as either metaphorical or
consequent on the hostility of "mine adversaries."
But even while thus his spirit is bitterly burying itself in his
sorrows the sudden certainty of the answer to his prayer flashes on
him. "Sometimes a light surprises," as Cowper, who too well knew what
it was to be worn with groaning, has sung. That swift conviction
witnesses its origin in a Divine inspiration by its very suddenness.
Nothing has changed in circumstances, but everything has changed in
aspect. Wonder and exultation throb in the threefold assurance that
the prayer is heard. In the two former clauses the "hearing" is
regarded as a present act; in the latter the "receiving" is looked for
in the future. The process, which is usually treated as one simple
act, is here analysed. "God has heard; therefore God will
receive"--_i.e._, answer--"my weeping prayer." Whence came that
confidence but from the breath of God on the troubled spirit? "The
peace of God" is ever the reward of submissive prayer. In this
confidence a man can front the close-knit ring of enemies, of whatever
sort they be, and bid them back. Their triumphant dismissal is a
vivid way of expressing the certainty of their departure, with their
murderous hate unslaked and baulked. "Mine enemies" are "workers of
iniquity." That is a daring assumption, made still more remarkable by
the previous confession that the psalmist's sorrow was God's rebuke
and chastening. But a man has the right to believe that his cause is
God's in the measure in which he makes God's cause his. In the
confidence of prayer heard, the psalmist can see "things that are not
as though they were," and, though no change has passed on the
beleaguering hosts, triumphs in their sure rout and retreat. Very
significantly does he predict in ver. 10 the same fate for them which
he had bewailed as his own. The "dismay" which had afflicted his soul
shall pass to them ("sore vexed"). Since God "returns" (ver. 4), the
enemy will have to "return" in baffled abandonment of their plans, and
be "ashamed" at the failure of their cruel hopes. And all this will
come as suddenly as the glad conviction had started up in the troubled
heart of the singer. His outward life shall be as swiftly rescued as
his inward has been. One gleam of God's presence in his soul had lit
its darkness, and turned tears into sparkling homes of the rainbow;
one flash of that same presence in his outward life shall scatter all
his foes with like swiftness.