does not _feed_ his flock, except by leading and guiding them where they
may gather for themselves; but there are times when it is otherwise.
Late in autumn, when the pastures are dried up, and in winter, in places
covered with snow, he must furnish them food or they die. In the vast
oak woods along the eastern sides of Lebanon, between Baalbek and the
cedars, there are there gathered innumerable flocks, and the shepherds
are all day long in the bushy trees, cutting down the branches, upon
whose green leaves and tender twigs the sheep and goats are entirely
supported. The same is true in all mountain districts, and large forests
are preserved on purpose.—_W. M. Thomson._
_Verse 2.—“Lie down”—“leadeth.”_ Sitting Mary and stirring Martha are
emblems of contemplation and action, and as they dwell in one house, so
must these in one heart.—_Nathanael Hardy._
_Verse 2._—This short but touching epitaph is frequently seen in the
catacombs at Rome, “_In Christo, in pace_”—(In Christ, in peace).
Realise the constant presence of the Shepherd of peace. “HE maketh me to
lie down!” “HE leadeth me.”—_J. R. Macduff, D.D._
_Verse 2 (last clause).—“Easily leadeth,”_ or “_comfortably guideth
me_:” it noteth a soft and gentle leading, with sustaining of
infirmity.—_H. Ainsworth._
_Verse 2.—“Green pastures.”_ Here are many pastures, and every pasture
rich so that it can never be eaten bare; here are many streams, and
every stream so deep and wide that it can never be drawn dry. The sheep
have been eating in these pastures ever since Christ had a church on
earth, and yet they are as full of grass as ever. The sheep have been
drinking at these streams ever since Adam, and yet they are brim full to
this very day, and they will so continue till the sheep are above the
use of them in heaven!—_Ralph Robinson, 1656._
_Verse 2.—“Green pastures ... beside the still waters.”_ From the top of
the mound [of Arban on the Khabour] the eye ranged over a level country
bright with flowers, and spotted with black tents, and innumerable
flocks of sheep and camels. During our stay at Arban, the colour of
these great plains was undergoing a continual change. After being for
some days of a golden yellow, a new family of flowers would spring up,
and it would turn almost in a night to a bright scarlet, which would
again as suddenly give way to the deepest blue. Then the meadows would
be mottled with various hues, or would put on the emerald green of the
most luxuriant of pastures. The glowing descriptions I had so frequently
received from the Bedouins, of the beauty and fertility of the banks of
the Khabour were more than realised. The Arabs boast that its meadows
bear three distinct crops of grass during the year, and the wandering
tribes look upon its wooded banks and constant green sward as a paradise
during the summer months, where man can enjoy a cool shade, and beast
can find fresh and tender herbs, whilst all around is yellow, parched,
and sapless.—_Austin H. Layard, 1853._
_Verse 2._—With guidance to “_green pastures_,” the Psalmist has, with
good reason, associated guardianship beside “_still waters_;” for as we
can only appropriate the word through the Spirit, so we shall ordinarily
receive the Spirit through the word; not indeed only by hearing it, not
only by reading it, not only by reflecting upon it. The Spirit of God,
who is a most free agent, and who is himself the source of liberty, will
come into the heart of the believer when he will, and how he will, and
as he will. But the effect of his coming will ever be the realisation of
some promise, the recognition of some principle, the attainment of some
grace, the understanding of some mystery, which is already in the word,
and which we shall thus find, with a deeper impression, and with a
fuller development, brought home with power to the heart.—_Thomas Dale,
M.A., in “The Good Shepherd,” 1847._
_Verse 2.—“Still waters;”_ which are opposed to great rivers, which both
affright the sheep with their noise, and expose them to the danger of
being carried away by their swift and violent streams, whilst they are
drinking at them.—_Matthew Poole._
_Verse 2.—“Still waters;”_ Hebrew, “Waters of rests,” _ex quibus
diligunt oves bibere_, saith Kimchi, such as sheep love to drink of,
because void of danger, and yielding a refreshing air. Popish clergymen
are called the “inhabitants of the sea,” Rev. xii. 12, because they set
abroach gross, troubled, brackish, and sourish doctrine, which rather
bringeth barrenness to their hearts, and gnaweth their entrails than
quencheth their thirst, or cooleth their heat. The doctrine of the
gospel, like the waters of Siloe (Isa. viii. 8), run gently, but taste
pleasantly.—_John Trapp._
_Verse 3.—“He restoreth my soul,”_ etc. The subjects experimentally
treated in this verse are, first, the believer’s liability to fall, or
deviate even within the fold of the church, else wherefore should he
need to be “_restored_?” Next, the promptitude of the Good Shepherd to
interpose for his rescue. “_He restoreth my soul._” Then, Christ’s
subsequent care “_to lead him in the paths of righteousness_;” and,
lastly, the reason assigned wherefore he will do this—resolving all into
the spontaneousness, the supremacy, the omnipotence of grace. He will do
all, “_for his own name’s sake_.”—_Thomas Dale._
_Verse 3.—“He restoreth my soul.”_ The same hand which first rescued us
from ruin, reclaims us from all our subsequent aberrations. Chastisement
itself is blended with tenderness; and the voice which speaks reproof,
saying, “They have perverted their way, and they have forsaken the Lord
their God,” utters the kindest invitation, “Return, ye backsliding
children, and I will heal your backslidings.” Nor is the voice unheard,
and the call unanswered or unfelt. “Behold, we come unto thee; for thou
art the Lord our God.” Jer. iii. 22. “When thou saidst, Seek my face; my
heart said unto thee, Thy face, Lord, will I seek.”—_J. Thornton’s
“Shepherd of Israel,” 1826._
_Verse 3.—“He restoreth my soul.”_ He restores it to its original
purity, that was now grown foul and black with sin; for also, what good
were it to have “_green_” pastures and a _black_ soul! He “_restores_”
it to its natural temper in affections, that was grown distempered with
violence of passions; for alas! what good were it to have “_still_”
waters and _turbulent_ spirits! He “_restores_” it indeed to life, that
was grown before in a manner quite dead; and who could “_restore my
soul_” to life, but he only that is the Good Shepherd and gave his life
for his sheep?—_Sir Richard Baker._
_Verse 3.—“He shall convert my soul;”_ turn me not only from sin and
ignorance, but from every false confidence, and every deceitful refuge.
“_He shall bring me forth in paths of righteousness_;” in those paths of
imputed righteousness which are always adorned with the trees of
holiness, are always watered with the fountains of consolation, and
always terminate in everlasting rest. Some, perhaps, may ask, why I give
this sense to the passage? Why may it not signify the paths of duty, and
the way of our own obedience? Because such effects are here mentioned as
never have resulted, and never can result, from any duties of our own.
These are not “_green pastures_,” but a parched and blasted heath. These
are not “_still waters_,” but a troubled and disorderly stream. Neither
can these speak peace or administer comfort when we pass through the
valley and shadow of death. To yield these blessings, is the exalted
office of Christ, and the sole prerogative of his obedience.—_James
Hervey._
_Verse 3.—“He restoreth my soul:”_ Hebrew, “He bringeth it back;”
either, 1. From its errors or wandering; or, 2. Into the body, out of
which it was even departing and fainting away. He reviveth or comforteth
me.—_Matthew Poole._
_Verse 3.—“Paths of righteousness.”_ Alas! O Lord, these “_paths of
righteousness_” have a long time so little been frequented, that prints
of a _path_ are almost clean worn out; that it is a hard matter now, but
to find where the _paths_ lie, and if we can find them, yet they are so
narrow and so full of ruts, that without special assistance it is an
impossible thing not to fall or go astray. Even so angels, and those no
mean ones, were not able to go right in these “_paths of
righteousness_,” but for want of leading, went away and perished. O,
therefore, thou the Great Shepherd of my soul, as thou art pleased of
thy grace to lead me _into_ them, so vouchsafe with thy grace to lead me
_in_ them; for though in themselves they be “paths of _righteousness_,”
yet to me they will be but paths of _error_ if thou vouchsafe not, as
well to lead me _in_ them, as _into_ them.—_Sir Richard Baker._
_Verse 3.—“Paths.”_ In the wilderness and in the desert there are no
raised paths, the paths being merely tracks; and sometimes there are six
or eight paths running unevenly alongside each other. No doubt this is
what is figuratively referred to in Psalm xxiii. 3, “_He leadeth me in
the paths of righteousness_,” all leading to one point.—_John Gadsby._
_Verse 3.—“For his name’s sake.”_ Seeing he hath taken upon him the
_name_ of a “_Good Shepherd_,” he will discharge his part, whatever his
sheep be. It is not their being _bad sheep_ that can make him leave
being a “_Good Shepherd_,” but he will be “_good_,” and maintain the
credit of “his name” in spite of all their badness; and though no
benefit come to them of it, yet there shall glory accrue to him by it,
and “_his name_” shall nevertheless be magnified and extolled.—_Sir
Richard Baker._
_Verse 4.—“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil.”_ To “fear no evil,” then, “in the valley of the
shadow of death,” is a blessed privilege open to every true believer!
For death shall be to him no death at all, but a very deliverance from
death, from all pains, cares, and sorrows, miseries and wretchedness of
this world, and the very entry into rest, and a beginning of everlasting
joy: a tasting of heavenly pleasures, so great, that neither tongue is
able to express, neither eye to see, nor ear to hear them, no, nor any
earthly man’s heart to conceive them.... And to comfort all Christian
persons herein, holy Scripture calleth this bodily death a sleep,
wherein man’s senses be, as it were, taken from him for a season, and
yet, when he awaketh, he is more fresh than when he went to bed!... Thus
is this bodily death a door or entering into life, and therefore not so
much dreadful, if it be rightly considered, as it is comfortable; not a
mischief, but a remedy for all mischief; no enemy, but a friend; not a
cruel tyrant, but a gentle guide: leading us not to mortality, but to
immortality! not to sorrow and pain, but to joy and pleasure, and that
to endure for ever!—_Homily against the Fear of Death, 1547._
_Verse 4.—“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil.”_ Though I were called to such a sight as Ezekiel’s
vision, a valley full of dead men’s bones; though the king of terrors
should ride in awful pomp through the streets, slaying heaps upon heaps,
and thousands should fall at my side, and ten thousands at my right
hand, I will fear no evil. Though he should level his fatal arrows at
the little circle of my associates, and put lover and friend far from
me, and mine acquaintance into darkness, I will fear no evil. Yea,
though I myself should feel his arrow sticking fast in me, the poison
drinking up my spirits; though I should in consequence of that fatal
seizure, sicken and languish, and have all the symptoms of approaching
dissolution, still I will fear no evil. Nature, indeed, may start back
and tremble, but I trust that he who knows the flesh to be weak, will
pity and pardon these struggles. However I may be afraid of the agonies
of dying, I will fear no evil in death. The venom of his sting is taken
away. The point of his arrow is blunted so that it can pierce no deeper
than the body. My soul is invulnerable. I can smile at the shaking of
his spear; look unmoved on the ravages which the unrelenting destroyer
is making on my tabernacle; and long for the happy period when he shall
have made a breach wide enough for my heaven-aspiring spirit to fly away
and be at rest.—_Samuel Lavington._
_Verse 4.—“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil.”_ “I want to talk to you about heaven,” said a
dying parent[16] to a member of his family. “We may not be spared to
each other long. May we meet around the throne of glory, one family in
heaven!” Overpowered at the thought, his beloved daughter exclaimed,
“Surely you do not think there is any danger?” Calmly and beautifully he
replied, “Danger, my darling! Oh, do not use that word! There can be no
danger to the Christian, whatever may happen! All is right! All is well!
God is love! All is well! Everlastingly well! Everlastingly well!”—_John
Stevenson._
_Verse 4.—“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I
will fear no evil.”_ What not fear then? Why, what friend is it that
keeps up your spirits, that bears you company in that black and dismal
region? He will soon tell you God was with him, and in those slippery
ways he leaned upon his staff, and these were the cordials that kept his
heart from fainting. I challenge all the gallants in the world, out of
all their merry, jovial clubs, to find such a company of merry cheerful
creatures as the friends of God are. It is not the company of God, but
the want of it, that makes sad. Alas! you know not what their comforts
be, and strangers intermeddle not with their joy. You think they cannot
be merry when their countenance is so grave; but they are sure you
cannot be truly merry when you smile with a curse upon your souls. They
know that he spoke that sentence which could not be mistaken, “Even in
laughter the heart is sorrowful; and the end of that mirth is
heaviness.” Prov. xiv. 13. Then call your roaring, and your singing, and
laughter, mirth; but the Spirit of God calls it madness. Eccl. ii. 2.
When a carnal man’s heart is ready to die within him, and with Nabal, to
become like a stone, how cheerfully then can those look that have God
for their friend! Which of the valiant ones of the world can outface
death, look joyfully into eternity? Which of them can hug a fagot,
embrace the flames? This the saint can do, and more too; for he can look
infinite justice in the face with a cheerful heart; he can hear of hell
with joy and thankfulness; he can think of the day of judgment with
great delight and comfort. I again challenge all the world to produce
one out of all their merry companies, one that can do all this. Come,
muster up all your jovial blades together; call for your harps and
viols; add what you will to make the concert complete; bring in your
richest wines; come, lay your heads together, and study what may still
add to your comfort. Well, is it done? Now, come away, sinner, this
night thy soul must appear before God. Well now, what say you, man?
What! doth your courage fail you? Now call for your merry companions,
and let them cheer thy heart. Now call for a cup, a whore; never be
daunted, man. Shall one of thy courage quail, that could make a mock at
the threatenings of the Almighty God? What so boon and jolly but now,
and now down in the mouth! Here’s a sudden change indeed! Where are thy
merry companions, I say again? All fled? Where are thy darling
pleasures? Have all forsaken thee? Why shouldst thou be dejected;
there’s a poor man in rags that’s smiling? What! art thou quite bereft
of all comfort? What’s the matter, man? What’s the matter? There’s a
question with all my heart, to ask a man that must appear before God
to-morrow morning. Well, then, it seems your heart misgives you. What
then did you mean to talk of joys and pleasures? Are they all come to
this? Why, there stands one that now hath his heart as full of comfort
as ever it can hold, and the very thoughts of eternity, which do so
daunt your soul, raise his! And would you know the reason? He knows he
is going to his Friend; nay, his Friend bears him company through that
dirty lane. Behold how good and how pleasant a thing it is for God and
the soul to dwell together in unity! This it is to have God for a
friend. “Oh blessed is the soul that is in such a case; yea, blessed is
the soul whose God is the Lord.” Psa. cxliv. 15.—_James Janeway._
_Verse 4.—“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.”_
Any darkness is evil, but _darkness and the shadow of death_ is the
utmost of evils. David put the worst of his case and the best of his
faith when he said, “_Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil_;” that is, in the greatest evil I will fear
no evil.... Again, to be under the shadow of a thing, is to be under the
power of a thing.... Thus, to be under the shadow of death, is to be so
under the power or reach of death, that death may take a man and seize
upon him when it pleaseth. “_Though I walk in the valley of the shadow
of death_,” that is, though I be so near death, that it seems to others
death may catch me every moment, though I be under so many appearances
and probabilities of extreme danger, that there appears an
impossibility, in sense, to escape death, “_yet I will not
fear_.”—_Joseph Caryl._
_Verse 4.—“Valley of the shadow of death.”_ A valley is a low place,
with mountains on either side. Enemies may be posted on those mountains
to shoot their arrows at the traveller, as ever was the case in the
East; but he _must_ pass through it. The Psalmist, however, said he
would fear no evil, not even the fiery darts of Satan, for the Lord was
with him. The figure is not _primarily_, as is sometimes supposed, our
dying moments, though it will beautifully bear that explanation; but it
is the valley beset with enemies, posted on the hills. David was not
only protected in that valley, but even in the presence of those
enemies, his table was bountifully spread (verse 5). The Bedouin, at the
present day often post themselves on the hills to harass travellers, as
they pass along the valleys.—_John Gadsby._
_Verse 4.—“I will fear no evil.”_ It hath been an ancient proverb, when
a man had done some great matter, he was said to have “plucked a lion by
the beard;” when a lion is dead, even to little children it hath been an
easy matter. As boys, when they see a bear, a lion, or a wolf dead in
the streets, they will pull off their hair, insult over them, and deal
with them as they please; they will trample upon their bodies, and do
that unto them being _dead_, which they durst not in the least measure
venture upon whilst they are _alive_. Such a thing is _death_, a furious
beast, a ramping lion, a devouring wolf, the _helluo generis humani_
(eater up of mankind), yet Christ hath laid him at his length, hath been
the _death of death_, so that _God’s children_ triumph over him, such as
those refined ones in the ore of the church, those martyrs of the
primitive times, who cheerfully offered themselves to the fire, and to
the sword, and to all the violence of this hungry beast; and have played
upon him, scorned and derided him, by the faith that they had in the
life of Christ, who hath subdued him to himself. 1 Cor. xv.—_Martin Day,
1660._
_Verse 4.—“Thou art with me.”_ Do you know the sweetness, the security,
the strength of “_Thou art with me_”? When anticipating the solemn hour
of death, when the soul is ready to halt and ask, How shall it then be?
can you turn in soul-affection to your God and say, “There is nothing in
death to harm me, while thy love is left to me”? Can you say, “O death,
where is thy sting”? It is said, when a bee has left its sting in any
one, it has no more power to hurt. Death has left its sting in the
humanity of Christ, and has no more power to harm his child. Christ’s
victory over the grave is his people’s. “At that moment I am with you,”
whispers Christ; “the same arm you have proved strong and faithful all
the way up through the wilderness, which has never failed, though you
have been often forced to lean on it all your weakness.” “On this arm,”
answers the believer, “_I feel at home_; with soul-confidence, I repose
on my Beloved; for he has supported through so many difficulties, from
the contemplation of which I shuddered. He has carried over so many
depths, that I know his arm to be the arm of love.” How can that be
dark, in which God’s child is to have the accomplishment of the longing
desire of his life? How can it be dark to come in contact with the light
of life? It is “_his rod_,” “_his staff_;” therefore they “_comfort_.”
Prove him—prove him now, believer! it is your privilege to do so. It
will be precious to him to support your weakness; prove that when weak,
then are you strong; that you may be secure, his strength shall be
perfected in your perfect weakness. Omnipotent love must fail before one
of his sheep can perish; for, says Christ, “none shall pluck my sheep
out of my hand.” “I and my Father are one;” therefore we may boldly say,
“_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will
fear no evil; for thou art with me._”—_Viscountess Powerscourt._
_Verse 4.—“Thy rod.”_ Of the _virga pastoralis_ there are three uses:—1.
_Numerare oves_—to reckon up or count the sheep; and in this sense they
are said “to pass under the rod” (Lev. xxvii. 32), the shepherd tells
them one by one. And even so are the people of God called the rod of his
inheritance (Jer. x. 16), such as he takes special notice or account of.
And take the words in this sense—“_Thy rod doth comfort me_”—it holds
well; _q.d._ “Though I am in such eminent dangers by reason of evil men,
yet this is my comfort—I am not neglected of thee; thou dost not suffer
me to perish; thou takest notice of me; thou dost take and make an
account of me; thy special care looks after me.” 2. _Provocare oves_:
when the sheep are negligent and remiss in following or driving, the
shepherd doth, with his rod, put them on, quicken their pace. And in
this sense also David saith well, “_Thy rod doth comfort me_;” for it is
a work which doth breed much joy and comfort in the hearts of God’s
people, when God doth put them out of a lazy, cold, formal walking, and
doth, some way or other, cause them to mend their pace, to grow more
active and fervent in his service and worship. 3. _Revocare oves_: the
sheep sometimes are _petulante divagantes_, idly and inconsiderably
straying from the flock, grazing alone, and wandering after other
pastures, not considering the dangers which attend them by such a
separation and wandering; and, therefore, the shepherd doth with his rod
strike and fetch them in again, and so preserve them. In this sense also
David might well say, “_Thy rod doth comfort me_;” for it is a great
comfort that the Lord will not leave his sheep to the ways of
discomfort, but brings them off from sinful errings and wanderings,
which always do expose them to their greatest dangers and troubles. So
that the words do intimate a singular part of God’s gubernation or
careful providence of his flock.—_Obadiah Sedgwick._
_Verse 4.—“Rod and staff.”_ The shepherd invariably carries a staff or
rod with him when he goes forth to feed his flock. It is often bent or
hooked at one end, which gave rise to the shepherd’s crook in the hand
of the Christian bishop. With this staff he rules and guides the flock
to their green pastures, and defends them from their enemies. With it
also he corrects them when disobedient, and brings them back when
wandering. This staff is associated as inseparably with the shepherd as
the goad is with the ploughman.—_W. M. Thomson._