[Illustration]
="Yea, though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for
thou art with me; thy rod and
thy staff they comfort me."=
It was necessary for shepherds in Palestine, when leading their flocks
from one pasture to another, to lead them, at times, through dark
ravines, on either side of which were caves and holes wherein dwelt
ravenous beasts. From the attack of these beasts the shepherd must
protect his flock. For this purpose he used the staff which he carried
with him. The staff was a great stick with a large knob at the end of it
pierced through with sharp nails and spikes. This weapon was used to
beat off the attacks of the wild beasts. The shepherd must be bold and
courageous. We recall how David referred to his encounters with wild
beasts which attacked his flock. "And David said unto Saul, Thy servant
kept his father's sheep, and there came a lion, and a bear, and took a
lamb out of the flock; and I went out after him, and smote him, and
delivered it out of his mouth; and when he arose against me, I caught
him by his beard, and smote him, and slew him. Thy servant slew both the
lion and the bear; and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of
them, seeing he hath defied the armies of the living God. David said
moreover, The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the lion, and out
of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of the
Philistine. And Saul said unto David, Go, and the +LORD+ be with thee"
(I Samuel 17:34-37).
=_The Valley of the Shadow_=
"The valley of the shadow of death" may refer to any dark, dread or
awful experience through which the child of God is called to pass. In
this sense it is used in many places in the Scriptures. The Christian's
path is not always beside still waters and in green pastures.
In pastures green? Not always; sometimes He
Who knoweth best, in kindness leadeth me
In weary ways, where heavy shadows be.
And by still waters? No not always so,
Ofttimes the heavy tempests round me blow,
And o'er my soul the waves and billows go.
But when the storm beats loudest, and I cry
Aloud for help, the Master standeth by,
And whispers to my soul, "Lo, it is I!"
Above the tempest wild I hear Him say,
"Beyond the darkness lies the perfect day,
In every path of thine I lead the way."
--_Henry H. Barry_
But is it not kind of our Father that He puts the valley in the middle
of the Psalm--not at the beginning of our Christian journey, lest we
should be unduly discouraged, but in the middle--after we have been
strengthened with food and drink and have been assured of the tender
care and guidance of the Great Shepherd. Oh! wondrous thought and care!
Of course, "the valley of the shadow of death" refers also, and probably
more particularly, to the experience of death itself. At least we have
come to look upon it in such light, and doubtless thousands of God's
people have found the comforting truth of this verse a safe pillow in
the dying hour. It has lightened the valley, removed the fear of death,
and illumined immortality.
=_The Fear of Death_=
When a robber would scatter a flock of sheep and cause fear and
consternation he throws a dead carcass in the midst of the flock. Sheep
fear nothing as much as the sight of death. Is this not true of man
also? About the last fear taken from the human heart is "the fear of
death." "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death." Even though
the believer knows that the sting of death has been removed,
nevertheless there is usually an attendant fear connected with the
passing out of this life.
I have read that a famous scientist was in the habit of visiting a
zoological garden in London. Among the many things that always
interested him was a large snake--a boa constrictor. It was kept in a
large glass case so that inspection of the reptile was perfectly safe
from the outside. The scientist, we are told, was in the habit of
knocking on the glass in order to awaken the snake. Instantly, when the
knock was heard, the snake would raise its head and strike at the glass
with its fangs. The scientist, instinctively shrank back, fearful of
being struck, though he knew there was absolutely no danger. So
sometimes is it with the believer's relationship to death. Even though
he knows the sting is removed, nevertheless the experience of death is
somewhat of a dread. The soul naturally recoils at the thought of death.
No really thoughtful man will speak lightly of death. He may, as some
men may, in the fullness of health and vigor, laugh at the idea of
dying; but when he comes face to face with the real experience, there
is, as any minister or physician will tell you, quite a different story
to tell.
It reminds me of an experience in our own family life. Behind a former
residence of ours was a stretch of woods where, after school, our boys
would go to play their outdoor games. It was the understanding in the
home that when the whistle was blown or some other signal given the boys
should come home for their meals. At times the boys would come home in
response to the signal in a somewhat murmuring spirit. They have said
something like this to their mother: "Mother, what did you call us home
for anyway? Didn't you know that we were just in the midst of a great
game and our side was about to win? We wish you wouldn't call us." I
have felt as I have listened to them speaking thus to their mother that,
just at that particular time and in the middle of the day, they could,
apparently, get along very well without their mother. But I have noticed
this also, that at night time, after their mother had prayed with them
and the lights were turned out, there was another story to tell. It
seems to me that I can still hear one of the boys calling out in the
dark to his mother, "Mamma, are you there?"
"Yes, son."
"Mamma."
"Yes."
"Is your face turned towards me?"
"Yes."
"Mamma, will you hold my hand? It's dark, isn't it, Mamma? Good night,
Mamma."
Ah, yes, in the day-time they might think they could get along very well
without their mother, but when the night comes, and the lights are all
out, and it's dark, then nobody on earth but mother will do.
So it is with you, my friend. In your bravado of health and strength you
may say that you are not afraid of death, but you wait until your feet
come down to the brink of the river; then there will be a different
story to tell. Some men haven't much use for God in life, but nobody
else but God will do in the hour of death.
=_The Valley Is Certain and Narrow_=
Death is certain. It is appointed unto men once to die. While the Lord
tarries, every child of Adam will have to pass through the experience of
death.
There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair!
--_Henry W. Longfellow_
We cannot bribe death. We cannot avoid or evade passing through the
valley of the shadow. We cannot dig under it, nor tunnel around it, nor
fly over it. Face it we must. It behooves us, therefore, to make sure
that we have the light and the life which alone will secure for us a
happy exit from this valley and a glorious entrance into the unfading
light of a new day.
The valley of the shadow of death is narrow, very narrow--so narrow
indeed that even a mother cannot take her one-hour-old babe with her. It
is so narrow. She must go through the valley alone. Single file, if you
please, is the order of march through this valley of the shadow. An aged
woman lay dying. By her bedside, with his hand in hers, sat the man who
for over fifty years had been her husband. The light was failing fast,
and eternity drawing near to the aged woman. Grasping the hand of her
husband tightly, she said, "John, it's getting dark. Take my hand. For
over fifty years we have traveled together, and you have led me. Now
it's getting dark, and I cannot see the way. John, come with me, won't
you?"
But John could not go, and with tear-filled eyes and trembling voice, he
said, "Anna, I cannot, cannot go. Only Jesus can go with you."
She was a little girl of ten years. The angel of death was hovering over
her bed. The end was drawing near. She said to her father, who was
standing by the mother's side at the bed, "Papa, it's getting dark and I
cannot see. Will you please go with me?"
With heart breaking, the father had to say, "Child, I cannot, I cannot
go with you."
The girl turned to her mother and said, "Mamma, then you will, won't
you?"
But the mother, in turn, amid her tears, replied, "Child, I would, but I
cannot. Only Jesus can go with you."
=_The Personal Pronouns Change_=
It is interesting to note the change in the personal pronoun in this
verse. Up to this point the Psalmist has been speaking in the third
person and using the personal pronoun "He"--"_He_ leadeth me." "_He_
maketh me." "He restoreth;" _he, he, he_. When he comes to speak of the
valley of the shadow of death, however, the third personal pronoun is
changed to that of the second person, "Yea, though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for _thou_,
(_thou_--not _he_, is with me, but _thou_) art with me." There is no
room for a third person in this valley. If one does not have Christ as
Saviour and Guide in the dark hour of death, he goes through the valley
of the shadow all alone. Surely, without Christ with him man will
stumble and fall in this valley.
Poor indeed is that soul who, when his feet are about to enter the
valley, has no Guide, or, when he comes to the brink of death's river,
has no Pilot.
Oh, to have no Christ, no Saviour,
How lonely life must be!
Like a sailor lost and driven
On a wide and shoreless sea.
Oh, to have no Christ, no Saviour,
No hand to clasp thine own!
Through the dark, dark vale of shadows
Thou must press thy way alone.
--_W. O. Cushing_
But what a blessing and comfort it is for those who know Christ as
Saviour and Comforter, to have the assurance that in that last hour of
life He is by their side to guide them. It was doubtless this thought of
the presence of Christ that comforted Tennyson when he wrote the words
of that beautiful poem:
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And, may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea.
* * * * *
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And, may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.
--_Alfred Tennyson_
Some one has called the fourth verse of the Psalm a song of the waters.
Did you ever hear singing on the water? There is something wonderful
about it. The water seems to take all harshness out of the music, and
puts something exquisitely beautiful into it. Here then is "a psalm of
the waters," a song for the believer to sing when his feet are touching
the margin of the river: "When thou passest through the waters, I will
be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee....
For I am the +LORD+ thy God."
Here, too, is "a song in the night." Sing it, Christian pilgrim, when
earth's last hour is at hand. Sing it as you enter the valley. Sing it
as the darkness deepens. Sing it when the light of earth's day begins to
fade. Sing it when the earth is receding, heaven is opening and God is
calling you. Sing it until the glory of the eternal morn breaks upon
thine enraptured vision. Sing it until your feet stand upon that golden
shore against which death's chilly wave never again shall dash, and
where death is no more. Sing it, sing this song of the waters--"Yea,
though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no
evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."
Why be afraid of Death as though your life were breath!
Death but anoints your eyes with clay. Oh glad surprise!
Why should you be forlorn? Death only husks the corn.
Why should you fear to meet the thresher of the wheat?
Is sleep a thing to dread? Yet sleeping, you are dead
Till you awake and rise, here, or beyond the skies.
Why should it be a wrench, to leave your wooden bench?
Why not with happy shout run home when school is out?
The dear ones left behind? O foolish one and blind.
A day--and you will meet--a night--and you will greet!
This is the death of Death, to breathe away a breath,
And know the end of strife and taste the deathless life.
And joy without a fear and smile without a tear,
And work, nor care, nor rest, and find the last the best.
--_Maltbie D. Babcock_
"=_Thy Rod and Thy Staff They Comfort Me_="
The rod is a protection from all the adversaries of the night. No enemy,
not even the last enemy, death, can affright the soul in the care of the
tender Shepherd, for He has extracted the sting from death. The staff is
used for counting the sheep as they pass one by one into the fold. This
action is sometimes called "passing under the rod." The language used
here indicates safety and security.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight and tears on bitterness.
Where is death's sting? where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.
--_Henry F. Lyte_
Christ hath _abolished_ death and brought life and immortality to light.
The word "abolished" is a very strong one in the Greek. It has three
root letters, a, r and g. Then the preposition _kata_ is added to it,
thus making our English word "energy" which means "a working force."
Then, in a way known to Greek students, the preposition gives the word,
as it were, the force of a double negative. So the Apostle teaches us
that Christ, when He came into the world and died on the cross, did
something with death. He double-twisted it, He de-vitalized it,
double-negatived it, made it inoperative, rendered it powerless, so that
ever afterwards it would be unable to hurt the children of God.
I do not know very much about bees except, of course, that they sting. I
am told, however, that when a bee stings you it leaves its sting in the
wound and goes away to die. A little child may play with the bee after
it has stung a person without any harm coming to the child. The bee has
lost its power to hurt. So we are told that the sting of death is sin.
Death stung Christ on the cross and left its sting in Him, so that ever
after it could not hurt the children of God. He is "Death of death and
hell's destruction."
Christ, the Great Shepherd, will be there at the entrance of the valley
to meet you and lead you through. He will beat off all the powers of
death. He will destroy all the enemies of darkness and convey you safely
through the valley into the Homeland. He holds the keys of death and the
grave. How helpless a thing a sheep is! How much in need of a defender
it is! It seems as though almost any other animal can defend itself. A
dog will fight when attacked. A sheep stands helpless in the presence
of its opponent. Christ, the Good Shepherd, will protect to the last.
The comforting thoughts of this verse must certainly take the sting out
of death to those who grasp the great truths taught here. It surely
abolishes death and illumines immortality.
No one need fear death with such thoughts as these before him. The
Apostle Paul asserts that every believer in Christ has "a cheerful view
of death," and desires rather "to be absent from the body and at home
with the Lord" than to remain here upon the earth.
Go to thy grave, not as the slave scourged to his dungeon, or the dog
whipped to his kennel, but as the prince wraps around him the drapery of
his couch and lies down to pleasant dreams. The conscious companionship
of the Christ will remove thy fears. With what alacrity, courage and
fearlessness doth he walk the highway whose heart is honest and whose
conscience doth not convict him of the violation of his country's laws!
How different with the criminal! How full of fear and apprehension!
Abide with me! fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens--Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!
Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changest not, abide with me!
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me!
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!
--_Henry F. Lyte_