what a great and difficult work is it to regenerate, to restore men
again to spiritual life and vigour, when every part of them is seized by
such a mortal distemper! How great a cure doth the Spirit of God effect
in restoring a soul by sanctifying it! To heal but the lungs or the
liver, if corrupted, is counted a great cure, though performed but upon
one part of thee; but all thy inward parts are very rottenness. “_For
there is no faithfulness in their mouth; their inward part is very
wickedness: their throat is an open sepulchre; they flatter with their
tongue._” How great a cure is it then to heal thee! Such as is only in
the skill and power of God to do.—_Thomas Goodwin._
_Verse 9.—“Their throat is an open sepulchre.”_ This figure graphically
portrays the filthy conversation of the wicked. Nothing can be more
abominable to the senses than an open sepulchre, when a dead body
beginning to putrefy steams forth its tainted exhalations. What proceeds
out of their mouth is infected and putrid; and as the exhalation from a
sepulchre proves the corruption within, so it is with the corrupt
conversation of sinners.—_Robert Haldane’s “Expositions of the Epistle
to the Romans,” 1835._
_Verse 9.—“Their throat is an open sepulchre.”_ This doth admonish us,
(1) that the speeches of natural unregenerate men are unsavoury, rotten,
and hurtful to others; for, as a sepulchre doth send out noisome savours
and filthy smells, so evil men do utter rotten and filthy words. (2) As
a sepulchre doth consume and devour bodies cast into it, so wicked men
do with their cruel words destroy others; they are like a gulf to
destroy others. (3) As a sepulchre, having devoured many corpses, is
still ready to consume more, being never satisfied, so wicked men,
having overthrown many with their words, do proceed in their outrage,
seeking whom they may devour.—_Thomas Wilson, 1653._
_Verse 9.—“Their inward part,”_ etc. Their hearts are storehouses for
the devil.—_John Trapp._
_Verse 10._—All those portions where we find apparently prayers that
breathe revenge, are never to be thought of as anything else than the
_breathed assent of righteous souls_ to the justice of their God, who
taketh vengeance on sin. When taken as the words of Christ himself, they
are no other than an echo of the Intercessor’s acquiescence at last in
the sentence on the barren fig-tree. It is as if he cried aloud, “Hew it
down now, I will intercede no longer, the doom is righteous, _destroy
them, O God; cast them out in_ (or, for) _the multitude of their
transgressions, for they have rebelled against thee_.” And in the same
moment he may be supposed to invite his saints to sympathise in his
decision; just as in Rev. xviii. 20, “Rejoice over her, thou heaven, and
ye holy apostles and prophets.” In like manner, when one of Christ’s
members, in entire sympathy with his Head, views the barren fig-tree
from the same point of observation, and sees the glory of God concerned
in inflicting the blow, he too can cry, “Let the axe smite!” Had Abraham
stood beside the angel who destroyed Sodom, and seen how Jehovah’s name
required the ruin of these impenitent rebels, he would have cried out,
“Let the shower descend; let the fire and brimstone come down!” not in
any spirit of revenge; not from want of tender love to souls, but from
intense earnestness of concern for the glory of his God. We consider
this explanation to be the real key that opens all the difficult
passages in this book, where curses seem to be called for on the head of
the ungodly. They are no more than a carrying out of Deut. xxvii. 15-26,
“Let all the people say, Amen,” and an entering into the Lord’s holy
abhorrence of sin, and delight in acts of justice expressed in the “Amen
hallelujah,” of Rev. xix. 3.—_Andrew A. Bonar, 1859._
_Verse 10.—(Or imprecatory passages generally)._ Lord, when in my daily
service I read David’s Psalms, give me to alter the accent of my soul
according to their several subjects. In such Psalms wherein he
confesseth his sins, or requesteth thy pardon, or praiseth for former,
or prayeth for future favours, in all these give me to raise my soul to
as high a pitch as may be. But when I come to such Psalms wherein he
curseth his enemies, O there let me bring my soul down to a lower note.
For those words were made only to fit David’s mouth. I have the like
breath, but not the same spirit to pronounce them. Nor let me flatter
myself, that it is lawful for me, with David, to curse thine enemies,
lest my deceitful heart entitle mine enemies to be thine, and so what
was religion in David, prove malice in me, whilst I act revenge under
the pretence of piety.—_Thomas Fuller, D.D., 1608-1661._
_Verse 12._—When the strong man armed comes against us, when he darts
his fiery darts, what can hurt us, if God compass us about with _his
lovingkindness as with a shield_? He can disarm the tempter and restrain
his malice, and tread him under our feet. If God be not with us, if he
do not give us sufficient grace, so subtle, so powerful, so politic an
enemy, will be too hard for us. How surely are we foiled, and get the
worse, when we pretend to grapple with him in our own strength! How many
falls, and how many bruises by those falls have we got, by relying too
much on our own skill? How often have we had the help of God when we
have humbly asked it! And how sure are we to get the victory, _if Christ
pray for us that we do not fail_! Luke xxii. 31. Where can we go for
shelter but unto God our Maker! When this lion of the forest does begin
to roar, how will he terrify and vex us, till he that permits him for
awhile to trouble us, be pleased to chain him up again!—_Timothy Rogers,
1691._
_Verse 12.—“As with a shield.”_ Luther, when making his way into the
presence of Cardinal Cajetan, who had summoned him to answer for his
heretical opinions at Augsburg, was asked by one of the Cardinal’s
minions, where he should find a shelter, if his patron, the Elector of
Saxony, should desert him? “Under the shelter of heaven!” was the reply.
The silenced minion turned round and went his way.
_Verse 12.—“With favour wilt thou compass him as with a shield.”_ The
shield is not for the defence of any particular part of the body, as
almost all the other pieces are: helmet, fitted for the head; plate
designed for the breast; and so others, they have their several parts,
which they are fastened to; but the shield is a piece that is intended
for the defence of the whole body. It was used therefore to be made very
large; for its broadness, called a gate or door, because so long and
large, as in a manner to cover the whole body. And if the shield were
not large enough at once to cover every part, yet being a movable piece
of armour, the skilful soldier might turn it this way or that way, to
catch the blow or arrow from lighting on any part they were directed to.
And this indeed doth excellently well set forth the universal use that
faith is of to the Christian. It defends the whole man: every part of
the Christian by it is preserved.... The shield doth not only defend the
whole body, but it is a defence to the soldier’s armour also; it keeps
the arrow from the helmet as well as head, from the breast and
breastplate also. Thus faith, it is armour upon armour, a grace that
preserves all the other graces.—_William Gurnall._
HINTS TO PREACHERS.
_Verses 1, 2._—Prayer in its threefold form. “_Words, meditation, cry._”
Showing how utterance is of no avail without heart, but that fervent
longings and silent desires are accepted, even when unexpressed.
_Verse 3._—The excellence of morning devotion.
_Verse 3 (last two clauses)._—1. Prayer directed. 2. Answers expected.
_Verse 4._—God’s hatred of sin an example to his people.
_Verse 5.—“The foolish.”_ Show why sinners are justly called fools.
_Verse 7.—“Multitude of thy mercy.”_ Dwell upon the varied grace and
goodness of God.
_Verse 7._—The devout resolution.
_Verse 7._—I. Observe the _singularity_ of the resolution. II. Mark the
_object_ of the resolution. It regards the service of God in the
sanctuary. “I will come into thine _house_ ... in thy fear will I
_worship_ towards thy _holy temple_.” III. The _manner_ in which he
would accomplish the resolution. (1) Impressed with a sense of the
divine goodness: “I will come into thy house in _the multitude of thy
mercy_.” (2) Filled with holy veneration: “And _in thy fear_ will I
worship.”—_William Jay, 1842._
_Verse 8._—God’s guidance needed always, and especially when enemies are
watching us.
_Verse 10._—Viewed as a threatening. The sentence, “Cast them out in the
multitude of their transgressions,” is specially fitted to be the
groundwork of a very solemn discourse.
_Verse 11._—I. The character of the righteous: _faith and love_. II. The
privileges of the righteous. (1) _Joy_—great, pure, satisfying,
triumphant (_shout_), constant (_ever_). (2) _Defence_—by power,
providence, angels, grace, etc.
_Verse 11._—Joy in the Lord both a duty and a privilege.
_Verse 12 (first clause).—The divine blessing upon the righteous._ It is
ancient, effectual, constant, extensive, irreversible, surpassing,
eternal, infinite.
_Verse 12 (second clause)._—A sense of divine favour a defence to the
soul.
PSALM VI.
TITLE.—_This Psalm is commonly known as the first of_ THE PENITENTIAL
PSALMS,[2] _and certainly its language well becomes the lip of a
penitent, for it expresses at once the sorrow (verses 3, 6, 7), the
humiliation (verses 2 and 4), and the hatred of sin (verse 8), which are
the unfailing marks of the contrite spirit when it turns to God. O Holy
Spirit, beget in us the true repentance which needeth not to be repented
of. The title of this Psalm is_, “To the chief Musician on Neginoth upon
Sheminith,[3] A Psalm of David,” _that is, to the chief musician with
stringed instruments, upon the eight, probably the octave. Some think it
refers to the bass or tenor key, which would certainly be well adapted
to this mournful ode. But we are not able to understand these old
musical terms, and even the term “Selah,” still remains untranslated.
This, however, should be no difficulty in our way. We probably lose but
very little by our ignorance, and it may serve to confirm our faith. It
is a proof of the high antiquity of these Psalms that they contain
words, the meaning of which is lost even to the best scholars of the
Hebrew language. Surely these are but incidental (accidental I might
almost say, if I did not believe them to be designed by God), proofs of
their being, what they profess to be, the ancient writings of King David
of olden times._
DIVISION.—_You will observe that the Psalm is readily divided into two
parts. First, there is the Psalmist’s plea in his great distress,
reaching from the first to the end of the seventh verse. Then you have,
from the eighth to the end, quite a different theme. The Psalmist has
changed his note. He leaves the minor key, and betakes himself to
sublime strains. He tunes his note to the high key of confidence, and
declares that God hath heard his prayer, and hath delivered him out of
all his troubles._
EXPOSITION.
O LORD, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy hot
displeasure.
2 Have mercy upon me, O LORD; for I _am_ weak: O LORD, heal me; for
my bones are vexed.
3 My soul is also sore vexed: but thou, O LORD, how long?
4 Return, O LORD, deliver my soul: oh save me for thy mercies’ sake.
5 For in death _there is_ no remembrance of thee: in the grave who
shall give thee thanks?
6 I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim;
I water my couch with my tears.
7 Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old because of
all mine enemies.
Having read through the first division, in order to see it as a whole,
we will now look at it verse by verse. “_O Lord, rebuke me not in thine
anger._” The Psalmist is very conscious that he deserves to be rebuked,
and he feels, moreover, that the rebuke in some form or other must come
upon him, if not for condemnation, yet for conviction and
sanctification. “Corn is cleaned with wind, and the soul with
chastenings.” It were folly to pray against the golden hand which
enriches us by its blows. He does not ask that the rebuke may be totally
withheld, for he might thus lose a blessing in disguise; but, “Lord,
rebuke me not in _thine anger_.” If thou remindest me of my sin, it is
good; but, oh, remind me not of it as one incensed against me, lest thy
servant’s heart should sink in despair. Thus saith Jeremiah, “O Lord,
correct me, but with judgment; not in thine anger, lest thou bring me to
nothing.” I know that I must be chastened, and though I shrink from the
rod yet do I feel that it will be for my benefit; but, oh, my God,
“_chasten me not in thy hot displeasure_,” lest the rod become a sword,
and lest in smiting, thou shouldest also kill. So may we pray that the
chastisements of our gracious God, if they may not be entirely removed,
may at least be sweetened by the consciousness that they are “not in
anger, but in his dear covenant love.”
2, 3. “_Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I am weak._” Though I deserve
destruction, yet let thy mercy pity my frailty. This is the right way to
plead with God if we would prevail. Urge not your goodness or your
greatness, but plead your sin and your littleness. Cry, “_I am weak_,”
therefore O Lord, give me strength and crush me not. Send not forth the
fury of thy tempest against so weak a vessel. Temper the wind to the
shorn lamb. Be tender and pitiful to a poor withering flower, and break
it not from its stem. Surely this is the plea that a sick man would urge
to move the pity of his fellow if he were striving with him, “Deal
gently with me, ‘for I am weak.’” A sense of sin had so spoiled the
Psalmist’s pride, so taken away his vaunted strength, that he found
himself weak to obey the law, weak through the sorrow that was in him,
too weak, perhaps, to lay hold on the promise. “_I am weak._” The
original may be read, “I am one who droops,” or withered like a blighted
plant. Ah! beloved, we know what this means, for we, too, have seen our
glory stained, and our beauty like a faded flower.
“_O Lord heal me; for my bones are vexed._” Here he prays for _healing_,
not merely the mitigation of the ills he endured, but their entire
removal, and the curing of the wounds which had arisen therefrom. His
bones were “_shaken_,” as the Hebrew has it. His terror had become so
great that his very bones shook; not only did his flesh quiver, but the
bones, the solid pillars of the house of manhood, were made to tremble.
“My bones are shaken.” Ah, when the soul has a sense of sin, it is
enough to make the bones shake; it is enough to make a man’s hair stand
up on end to see the flames of hell beneath him, an angry God above him,
and danger and doubt surrounding him. Well might he say, “My bones are
shaken.” Lest, however, we should imagine that it was merely bodily
sickness—although bodily sickness might be the outward sign—the Psalmist
goes on to say, “_My soul is also sore vexed._” Soul-trouble is the very
soul of trouble. It matters not that the bones shake if the soul be
firm, but when the soul itself is also sore vexed this is agony indeed.
“_But thou, O Lord, how long?_” This sentence ends abruptly, for words
failed, and grief drowned the little comfort which dawned upon him. The
Psalmist had still, however, some hope; but that hope was only in his
God. He therefore cries, “O Lord, how long?” The coming of Christ into
the soul in his priestly robes of grace is the grand hope of the
penitent soul; and, indeed, in some form or other, Christ’s appearance
is, and ever has been, the hope of the saints.
Calvin’s favourite exclamation was “Domine usque quo”—“_O Lord, how
long?_” Nor could his sharpest pains, during a life of anguish, force
from him any other word. Surely this is the cry of the saints under the
altar, “O Lord, how long?” And this should be the cry of the saints
waiting for the millennial glories, “Why are his chariots so long in
coming; Lord, how long?” Those of us who have passed through conviction
of sin knew what it was to count our minutes hours, and our hours years,
while mercy delayed its coming. We watched for the dawn of grace, as
they that watch for the morning. Earnestly did our anxious spirits ask,
“O Lord, how long?”
4 “_Return, O Lord; deliver my soul._” As God’s absence was the main
cause of his misery, so his return would be enough to deliver him from
his trouble. “_Oh save me for thy mercies’ sake._” He knows where to
look, and what arm to lay hold upon. He does not lay hold on God’s left
hand of justice, but on his right hand of mercy. He knew his iniquity
too well to think of merit, or appeal to anything but the grace of God.
“_For thy mercies’ sake._” What a plea that is! How prevalent it is with
God! If we turn to justice, what plea can we urge? but if we turn to
mercy we may still cry, notwithstanding the greatness of our guilt,
“Save me for thy mercies’ sake.”
Observe how frequently David here pleads the name of Jehovah, which is
always intended where the word LORD is given in capitals. Five times in
four verses we here meet with it. Is not this a proof that the glorious
name is full of consolation to the tempted saint? Eternity, Infinity,
Immutability, Self-existence, are all in the name Jehovah, and all are
full of comfort.
5. And now David was in great fear of death—death temporal, and perhaps
death eternal. Read the passage as you will, the following verse is full
of power. “_For in death there is no remembrance of thee; in the grave
who shall give thee thanks?_” Churchyards are silent places; the vaults
of the sepulchre echo not with songs. Damp earth covers dumb mouths. “O
Lord?” said he, “if thou wilt spare me I will praise thee. If I die,
then must my mortal praise at least be suspended; and if I perish in
hell, then thou wilt never have any thanksgiving from me. Songs of
gratitude cannot rise from the flaming pit of hell. True, thou wilt
doubtless be glorified, even in my eternal condemnation, but then, O
Lord, I cannot glorify thee voluntarily; and among the sons of men,
there will be one heart the less to bless thee.” Ah! poor trembling
sinners, may the Lord help you to use this forcible argument. It is for
God’s glory that a sinner should be saved. When we seek pardon, we are
not asking God to do that which will stain his banner, or put a blot on
his escutcheon. He delighteth in mercy. It is his peculiar, darling
attribute. Mercy honours God. Do not we ourselves say, “Mercy blesseth
him that gives, and him that takes?” And surely, in some diviner sense,
this is true of God, who, when he gives mercy, glorifies himself.
6, 7.—The Psalmist gives a fearful description of his long agony: “_I am
weary with my groaning._” He had groaned till his throat was hoarse; he
had cried for mercy till prayer became a labour. God’s people may groan,
but they may not grumble. Yea, they must groan, being burdened, or they
will never shout in the day of deliverance. The next sentence, we think,
is not accurately translated. It should be, “_I shall make my bed to
swim every night_,” (when nature needs rest, and when I am most alone
with my God). That is to say, my grief is fearful even now, but if God
do not soon save me, it will not stay of itself, but will increase,
until my tears will be so many, that my bed itself shall swim. A
description rather of what he feared would be, than of what had actually
taken place. May not our forebodings of future woe become arguments
which faith may urge when seeking present mercy? “_I water my couch with
my tears. Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old because
of all mine enemies._” As an old man’s eye grows dim with years, so says
David, my eye is grown red and feeble through weeping. Conviction
sometimes has such an effect upon the body, that even the outward organs
are made to suffer. May not this explain some of the convulsions and
hysterical attacks which have been experienced under convictions in the
revivals in Ireland? Is it surprising that some should be smitten to the
earth, and begin to cry aloud; when we find that David himself made his
bed to swim, and grew old while he was under the heavy hand of God? Ah!
brethren, it is no light matter to feel one’s self a sinner, condemned
at the bar of God. The language of this Psalm is not strained and
forced, but perfectly natural to one in so sad a plight.
8 Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity; for the LORD hath
heard the voice of my weeping.
9 The LORD hath heard my supplication; the LORD will receive my
prayer.
10 Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return
_and_ be ashamed suddenly.
8. Hitherto, all has been mournful and disconsolate, but now—
“Your harps, ye trembling saints,
Down from the willows take.”
Ye must have your times of weeping, but let them be short. Get ye up,
get ye up, from your dunghills! Cast aside your sackcloth and ashes!
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
David has found peace, and rising from his knees he begins to sweep his
house of the wicked. “_Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity._” The
best remedy for us against an evil man is a long space between us both.
“Get ye gone; I can have no fellowship with you.” Repentance is a
practical thing. It is not enough to bemoan the desecration of the
temple of the heart, we must scourge out the buyers and sellers, and
overturn the tables of the money changers. A pardoned sinner _will hate
the sins_ which cost the Saviour his blood. Grace and sin are
quarrelsome neighbours, and one or the other must go to the wall.
“_For the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping._” What a fine
Hebraism, and what grand poetry it is in English! “He hath heard the
voice of my weeping.” Is there a voice in weeping? Does weeping speak?
In what language doth it utter its meaning? Why, in that universal
tongue which is known and understood in all the earth, and even in
heaven above. When a man weeps, whether he be a Jew or Gentile,
Barbarian, Scythian, bond or free, it has the same meaning in it.
Weeping is the eloquence of sorrow. It is an unstammering orator,
needing no interpreter, but understood of all. Is it not sweet to
believe that our tears are understood even when words fail! Let us learn
to think of tears as liquid prayers, and of weeping as a constant
dropping of importunate intercession which will wear its way right
surely into the very heart of mercy, despite the stony difficulties
which obstruct the way. My God, I will “weep” when I cannot plead, for
thou hearest the voice of my weeping.
9. “_The Lord hath heard my supplication._” The Holy Spirit had wrought
into the Psalmist’s mind the confidence that his prayer was heard. This
is frequently the privilege of the saints. Praying the prayer of faith,
they are often infallibly assured that they have prevailed with God. We
read of Luther that, having on one occasion wrestled hard with God in
prayer, he came leaping out of his closet crying, “_Vicimus, vicimus_;”
that is, “We have conquered, we have prevailed with God.” Assured
confidence is no idle dream, for when the Holy Ghost bestows it upon us,
we know its reality, and could not doubt it, even though all men should
deride our boldness. “_The Lord will receive my prayer._” Here is past
experience used for future encouragement. _He hath, he will._ Note this,
O believer, and imitate its reasoning.
10. “_Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed._” This is rather a
prophecy than an imprecation, it may be read in the future. “All my
enemies shall be ashamed and sore vexed.” _They shall return and be
ashamed instantaneously_,—in a moment;—their doom shall come upon them
suddenly. Death’s day is doom’s day, and both are sure and may be
sudden. The Romans were wont to say, “The feet of the avenging Deity are
shod with wool.” With noiseless footsteps vengeance nears its victim,
and sudden and overwhelming shall be its destroying stroke. If this were
an imprecation, we must remember that the language of the old
dispensation is not that of the new. We pray _for_ our enemies, not
_against_ them. God have mercy on them, and bring them into the right
way.
Thus the Psalm, like those which precede it, shows the different estates
of the godly and the wicked. O Lord, let us be numbered _with_ thy
people, both now and for ever!