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.