were not confounded._” As if he had said, “How is it that I am now left
without succour in my overwhelming griefs, while all others have been
helped?” We may remind the Lord of his former lovingkindnesses to his
people, and beseech him to be still the same. This is true wrestling;
let us learn the art. Observe, that ancient saints _cried_ and
_trusted_, and that in trouble we must do the same; and the invariable
result was that they were not ashamed of their hope, for deliverance
came in due time; this same happy portion shall be ours. The prayer of
faith can do the deed when nothing else can. Let us wonder when we see
Jesus using the same pleas as ourselves, and immersed in griefs far
deeper than our own.
6. “_But I am a worm, and no man._” This verse is a miracle in language.
How could the Lord of glory be brought to such abasement as to be not
only lower than the angels, but even lower than men. What a contrast
between “I AM” and “_I am a worm_”! yet such a double nature was found
in the person of our Lord Jesus when bleeding on the tree. He felt
himself to be comparable to a helpless, powerless, down-trodden worm,
passive while crushed, and unnoticed and despised by those who trod upon
him. He selects the weakest of creatures, which is all flesh; and
becomes, when trodden upon, writhing, quivering flesh, utterly devoid of
any might except strength to suffer. This was a true likeness of himself
when his body and soul had become a mass of misery—the very essence of
agony—in the dying pangs of crucifixion. Man by nature is but a worm;
but our Lord puts himself even beneath man, on account of the scorn
which was heaped upon him and the weakness which he felt, and therefore
he adds, “_and no man._” The privileges and blessings which belonged to
the fathers he could not obtain while deserted by God, and common acts
of humanity were not allowed him, for he was rejected of men; he was
outlawed from the society of earth, and shut out from the smile of
heaven. How utterly did the Saviour empty himself of all glory, and
become of no reputation for our sakes! “_A reproach of men_”—their
common butt and jest; a byword and a proverb unto them: the sport of the
rabble, and the scorn of the rulers. Oh the caustic power of reproach,
to those who endure it with patience, yet smart under it most painfully!
“_And despised of the people._” The _vox populi_ was against him. The
very people who would once have crowned him then contemned him, and they
who were benefited by his cures sneered at him in his woes. Sin is
worthy of all reproach and contempt, and for this reason Jesus, the
Sinbearer, was given up to be thus unworthily and shamefully entreated.
7, 8. “_All they that see me laugh me to scorn._” Read the evangelistic
narrative of the ridicule endured by the Crucified One, and then
consider, in the light of this expression, how it grieved him. The iron
entered into his soul. Mockery has for its distinctive description
“cruel mockings;” those endured by our Lord were of the most cruel kind.
The scornful ridicule of our Lord was universal; all sorts of men were
unanimous in the derisive laughter, and vied with each other in
insulting him. Priest and people, Jews and Gentiles, soldiers and
civilians, all united in the general scoff, and that at the time when he
was prostrate in weakness and ready to die. Which shall we wonder at the
most, the cruelty of man or the love of the bleeding Saviour? How can we
ever complain of ridicule after this?
“_They shoot out the lip, they shake the head._” These were gestures of
contempt. Panting, grinning, shaking of the head, thrusting out of the
tongue, and other modes of derision were endured by our patient Lord;
men made faces at him before whom angels vail their faces and adore. The
basest signs of disgrace which disdain could devise were maliciously
cast at him. They punned upon his prayers, they made matter for laughter
of his sufferings, and set him utterly at nought. Herbert sings of our
Lord as saying,—
“Shame tears my soul, my body many a wound;
Sharp nails pierce this, but sharper that confound;
Reproaches which are free, while I am bound.
Was ever grief like mine?”
“_Saying, He trusted on the Lord that he would deliver him: let him
deliver him, seeing he delighted in him._” Here the taunt is cruelly
aimed at the sufferer’s faith in God, which is the tenderest point in a
good man’s soul, the very apple of his eye. They must have learned the
diabolical art from Satan himself, for they made rare proficiency in it.
According to Matthew xxvii. 39-44, there were five forms of taunt hurled
at the Lord Jesus; this special piece of mockery is probably mentioned
in this psalm because it is the most bitter of the whole; it has a
biting, sarcastic irony in it, which gives it a peculiar venom; it must
have stung the Man of Sorrows to the quick. When we are tormented in the
same manner, let us remember him who endured such contradiction of
sinners against himself, and we shall be comforted. On reading these
verses one is ready, with Trapp, to ask, Is this a prophecy or a
history? for the description is so accurate. We must not lose sight of
the truth which was unwittingly uttered by the Jewish scoffers. They
themselves are witnesses that Jesus of Nazareth trusted in God: why then
was he permitted to perish? Jehovah had aforetime delivered those who
rolled their burdens upon him: why was this man deserted? Oh that they
had understood the answer! Note further, that their ironical jest,
“_seeing he delighted in him_,” was true. The Lord did delight in his
dear Son, and when he was found in fashion as a man, and became obedient
unto death, he still was well pleased in him. Strange mixture! Jehovah
delights in him, and yet bruises him; is well pleased, and yet slays
him.
9. “_But thou art he that took me out of the womb._” Kindly providence
attends with the surgery of tenderness at every human birth; but the Son
of Man, who was marvellously begotten of the Holy Ghost, was in an
especial manner watched over by the Lord when brought forth by Mary. The
destitute state of Joseph and Mary, far away from friends and home, led
them to see the cherishing hand of God in the safe delivery of the
mother, and the happy birth of the child; that Child now fighting the
great battle of his life, uses the mercy of his nativity as an argument
with God. Faith finds weapons everywhere. He who wills to believe shall
never lack reasons for believing. “_Thou didst make me hope when I was
upon my mother’s breasts._” Was our Lord so early a believer? Was he one
of those babes and sucklings out of whose mouths strength is ordained?
So it would seem; and if so, what a plea for help! Early piety gives
peculiar comfort in our after trials, for surely he who loved us when we
were children is too faithful to cast us off in our riper years. Some
give the text the sense of “gave me cause to trust, by keeping me
safely,” and assuredly there was a special providence which preserved
our Lord’s infant days from the fury of Herod, the dangers of
travelling, and the ills of poverty.
10. “_I was cast upon thee from the womb._” Into the Almighty arms he
was first received, as into those of a loving parent. This is a sweet
thought. God begins his care over us from the earliest hour. We are
dandled upon the knee of mercy, and cherished in the lap of goodness;
our cradle is canopied by divine love, and our first totterings are
guided by his care. “_Thou art my God from my mother’s belly._” The
psalm begins with “_My God, my God_,” and here, not only is the claim
repeated, but its early date is urged. Oh noble perseverance of faith,
thus to continue pleading with holy ingenuity of argument! Our birth was
our weakest and most perilous period of existence; if we were then
secured by Omnipotent tenderness surely we have no cause to suspect that
divine goodness will fail us now. He who was our God when we left our
mother will be with us till we return to mother earth, and will keep us
from perishing in the belly of hell.
11 Be not far from me; for trouble _is_ near; for _there is_ none to
help.
12 Many bulls have compassed me: strong _bulls_ of Bashan have beset
me round.
13 They gaped upon me _with_ their mouths, _as_ a ravening and a
roaring lion.
14 I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint, my
heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels.
15 My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth
to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death.
16 For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have
inclosed me: they pierced my hands and my feet.
17 I may tell all my bones: they look _and_ stare upon me.
18 They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture.
19 But be not thou far from me, O LORD: O my strength, haste thee to
help me.
20 Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the
dog.
21 Save me from the lion’s mouth: for thou hast heard me from the
horns of the unicorns.
The crucified Son of David continues to pour out his complaint and
prayer. We need much grace that while reading we may have fellowship
with his sufferings. May the blessed Spirit conduct us into a most clear
and affecting sight of our Redeemer’s woes.
11. “_Be not far from me._” This is the petition for which he has been
using such varied and powerful pleas. His great woe was that God had
forsaken him, his great prayer is that he would be near him. A lively
sense of the divine presence is a mighty stay to the heart in times of
distress. “_For trouble is near; for there is none to help._” There are
two “_fors_,” as though faith gave a double knock at mercy’s gate; that
is a powerful prayer which is full of holy reasons and thoughtful
arguments. The nearness of trouble is a weighty motive for divine help;
this moves our heavenly Father’s heart, and brings down his helping
hand. It is his glory to be our very present help in trouble. Our
Substitute had trouble in his inmost heart, for he said, “the waters
have come in, even unto my soul;” well might he cry, “_be not far from
me_.” The absence of all other helpers is another telling plea. In our
Lord’s case none either could or would help him, it was needful that he
should tread the winepress alone; yet was it a sore aggravation to find
that all his disciples had forsaken him, and lover and friend were put
far from him. There is an awfulness about absolute friendlessness which
is crushing to the human mind, for man was not made to be alone, and is
like a dismembered limb when he has to endure heart-loneliness.
12. “_Many bulls have compassed me: strong bulls of Bashan have beset me
round._” The mighty ones in the crowd are here marked by the tearful eye
of their victim. The priests, elders, scribes, Pharisees, rulers, and
captains bellowed round the cross like wild cattle, fed in the fat and
solitary pastures of Bashan, full of strength and fury; they stamped and
foamed around the innocent One, and longed to gore him to death with
their cruelties. Conceive of the Lord Jesus as a helpless, unarmed,
naked man, cast into the midst of a herd of infuriated wild bulls. They
were brutal as bulls, many, and strong, and the Rejected One was all
alone, and bound naked to the tree. His position throws great force into
the earnest entreaty, “Be not far from me.”
13. “_They gaped upon me with their mouths, as a ravening and a roaring
lion._” Like hungry cannibals they opened their blasphemous mouths as if
they were about to swallow the man whom they abhorred. They could not
vomit forth their anger fast enough through the ordinary aperture of
their mouths, and therefore set the doors of their lips wide open like
those who gape. Like roaring lions they howled out their fury, and
longed to tear the Saviour in pieces, as wild beasts raven over their
prey. Our Lord’s faith must have passed through a most severe conflict
while he found himself abandoned to the tender mercies of the wicked,
but he came off victorious by prayer; the very dangers to which he was
exposed being used to add prevalence to his entreaties.
14. Turning from his enemies, our Lord describes his own personal
condition in language which should bring the tears into every loving
eye. “_I am poured out like water._” He was utterly spent, like water
poured upon the earth; his heart failed him, and had no more firmness in
it than running water, and his whole being was made a sacrifice, like a
libation poured out before the Lord. He had long been a fountain of
tears; in Gethsemane his heart welled over in sweat, and on the cross he
gushed forth with blood; he poured out his strength and spirit, so that
he was reduced to the most feeble and exhausted state. “_All my bones
are out of joint_,” as if distended upon a rack. Is it not most probable
that the fastening of the hands and feet, and the jar occasioned by
fixing the cross in the earth, may have dislocated the bones of the
Crucified One? If this is not intended, we must refer the expression to
that extreme weakness which would occasion relaxation of the muscles and
a general sense of parting asunder throughout the whole system. “_My
heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels._” Excessive
debility and intense pain made his inmost life to feel like wax melted
in the heat. The Greek liturgy uses the expression, “thine unknown
sufferings,” and well it may. The fire of Almighty wrath would have
consumed our souls for ever in hell; it was no light work to bear as a
substitute the heat of an anger so justly terrible. Dr. Gill wisely
observes, “if the heart of Christ, the Lion of the tribe of Judah,
melted at it, what heart can endure or hands be strong, when God deals
with them in his wrath?”
15. “_My strength is dried up like a potsherd._” Most complete debility
is here portrayed; Jesus likens himself to a broken piece of
earthenware, or an earthen pot, baked in the fire till the last particle
of moisture is driven out of the clay. No doubt a high degree of
feverish burning afflicted the body of our Lord. All his strength was
dried up in the tremendous flames of avenging justice, even as the
paschal lamb was roasted in the fire. “_My tongue cleaveth to my jaws_;”
thirst and fever fastened his tongue to his jaws. Dryness and a horrible
clamminess tormented his mouth, so that he could scarcely speak. “_Thou
hast brought me into the dust of death_;” so tormented in every single
part as to feel dissolved into separate atoms, and each atom full of
misery; the full price of our redemption was paid, and no part of the
Surety’s body or soul escaped its share of agony. The words may set
forth Jesus as having wrestled with Death until he rolled into the dust
with his antagonist. Behold the humiliation of the Son of God! The Lord
of Glory stoops to the dust of death. Amid the mouldering relics of
mortality Jesus condescends to lodge!
Bishop Mant’s version of the two preceding verses is forcible and
accurate:—
“Pour’d forth like water is my frame;
My bones asunder start;
As wax that feels the searching flame,
Within me melts my heart.
My wither’d sinews shrink unstrung
Like potsherd dried and dead:
Cleaves to my jaws my burning tongue
The dust of death my bed.”
16. We are to understand every item of this sad description as being
urged by the Lord Jesus as a plea for divine help; and this will give us
a high idea of his perseverance in prayer. “_For dogs have compassed
me._” Here he marks the more ignoble crowd, who, while less strong than
their brutal leaders, were not less ferocious, for there they were
howling and barking like unclean and hungry dogs. Hunters frequently
surround their game with a circle, and gradually encompass them within
an ever-narrowing ring of dogs and men. Such a picture is before us. In
the centre stands, not a panting stag, but a bleeding, fainting man, and
around him are the enraged and unpitying wretches who have hounded him
to his doom. Here we have the “hind of the morning” of whom the psalm so
plaintively sings, hunted by bloodhounds, all thirsting to devour him.
_The assembly of the wicked have inclosed me_: thus the Jewish people
were unchurched, and that which called itself an assembly of the
righteous is justly for its sins marked upon the forehead as an assembly
of the wicked. This is not the only occasion when professed churches of
God have become synagogues of Satan, and have persecuted the Holy One
and the Just. _They pierced my hands and my feet._ This can by no means
refer to David, or to any one but Jesus of Nazareth, the once crucified
but now exalted Son of God. Pause, dear reader, and view the wounds of
thy Redeemer.
17. So emaciated was Jesus by his fastings and sufferings that he says,
“_I may tell all my bones._” He could count and re-count them. The
posture of the body on the cross, Bishop Horne thinks, would so distend
the flesh and skin as to make the bones visible, so that they might be
numbered. The zeal of his Father’s house had eaten him up; like a good
soldier he had endured hardness. Oh that we cared less for the body’s
enjoyment and ease and more for our Father’s business! It were better to
count the bones of an emaciated body than to bring leanness into our
souls.
“_They look and stare upon me._” Unholy eyes gazed insultingly upon the
Saviour’s nakedness, and shocked the sacred delicacy of his holy soul.
The sight of the agonizing body ought to have ensured sympathy from the
throng, but it only increased their savage mirth, as they gloated their
cruel eyes upon his miseries. Let us blush for human nature and mourn in
sympathy with our Redeemer’s shame. The first Adam made us all naked,
and therefore the second Adam became naked that he might clothe our
naked souls.
18. “_They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture._”
The garments of the executed were the perquisites of the executioners in
most cases, but it was not often that they cast lots at the division of
the spoil; this incident shows how clearly David in vision saw the day
of Christ, and how surely the Man of Nazareth is he of whom the prophets
spake: “these things, _therefore_, the soldiers did.” He who gave his
blood to cleanse us gave his garments to clothe us. As Ness says, “this
precious Lamb of God gave up his golden fleece for us.” How every
incident of Jesus’ griefs is here stored up in the treasury of
inspiration, and embalmed in the amber of sacred song; we must learn
hence to be very mindful of all that concerns our Beloved, and to think
much of everything which has a connection with him. It may be noted that
the habit of gambling is of all others the most hardening, for men could
practise it even at the cross-foot while besprinkled with the blood of
the Crucified. No Christian will endure the rattle of the dice when he
thinks of this.
19. “_But be not thou far from me, O Lord._” Invincible faith returns to
the charge, and uses the same means, viz., importunate prayer. He
repeats the petition so piteously offered before. He wants nothing but
his God, even in his lowest state. He does not ask for the most
comfortable or nearest presence of God, he will be content if he is not
far from him; humble requests speed at the throne. “_O my strength,
haste thee to help me._” Hard cases need timely aid: when necessity
justifies it we may be urgent with God as to time and cry, “make haste;”
but we must not do this out of wilfulness. Mark how in the last degree
of personal weakness he calls the Lord “_my strength_;” after this
fashion the believer can sing, “when I am weak, then am I strong.”
20. “_Deliver my soul from the sword._” By the sword is probably meant
entire destruction, which as a man he dreaded; or perhaps he sought
deliverance from the enemies around him, who were like a sharp and
deadly sword to him. The Lord had said, “Awake, O sword,” and now from
the terror of that sword the Shepherd would fain be delivered as soon as
justice should see fit. “_My darling from the power of the dog._”
Meaning his soul, his life, which is most dear to every man. The
original is, “my only one,” and therefore is our soul dear, because it
is our only soul. Would that all men made their souls their darlings,
but many treat them as if they were not worth so much as the mire of the
streets. _The dog_ may mean Satan that infernal Cerberus, that cursed
and cursing cur; or else the whole company of Christ’s foes, who though
many in number were as unanimous as if there were but one, and with one
consent sought to rend him in pieces. If Jesus cried for help against
the dog of hell, much more may we. _Cave canem_, beware of the dog, for
his power is great, and only God can deliver us from him. When he fawns
upon us, we must not put ourselves in his power; and when he howls at
us, we may remember that God holds him with a chain.
21. “_Save me from the lion’s mouth: for thou hast heard me from the
horns of the unicorns._” Having experienced deliverance in the past from
great enemies, who were strong as the unicorns, the Redeemer utters his
last cry for rescue from death, which is fierce and mighty as the lion.
This prayer was heard, and the gloom of the cross departed. Thus faith,
though sorely beaten, and even cast beneath the feet of her enemy,
ultimately wins the victory. It was so in our Head, it shall be so in
all the members. We have overcome the unicorn, we shall conquer the
lion, and from both lion and unicorn we shall take the crown.
22 I will declare thy name unto my brethren: in the midst of the
congregation will I praise thee.
23 Ye that fear the LORD, praise him; all ye the seed of Jacob,
glorify him; and fear him, all ye the seed of Israel.
24 For he hath not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the
afflicted; neither hath he hid his face from him; but when he cried
unto him, he heard.
25 My praise _shall be_ of thee in the great congregation: I will
pay my vows before them that fear him.
26 The meek shall eat and be satisfied: they shall praise the LORD
that seek him: your heart shall live for ever.
27 All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the LORD:
and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee.
28 For the kingdom _is_ the LORD’S: and he _is_ the governor among
the nations.
29 All _they that be_ fat upon earth shall eat and worship: all they
that go down to the dust shall bow before him: and none can keep
alive his own soul.
30 A seed shall serve him; it shall be accounted to the LORD for a
generation.
31 They shall come, and shall declare his righteousness unto a
people that shall be born, that he hath done _this_.
The transition is very marked; from a horrible tempest all is changed
into calm. The darkness of Calvary at length passed away from the face
of nature, and from the soul of the Redeemer, and beholding the light of
his triumph and its future results the Saviour smiled. We have followed
him through the gloom, let us attend him in the returning light. It will
be well still to regard the words as a part of our Lord’s soliloquy upon
the cross, uttered in his mind during the last few moments before his
death.