1 I love--for Jehovah hears
My voice, my supplications.
2 For He has bent His ear to me,
And throughout my days will I call.
3 The cords of death ringed me round,
And the narrows of Sheol found me,
Distress and trouble did I find.
4 And on the name of Jehovah I called,
"I beseech Thee, Jehovah, deliver my soul."
5 Gracious is Jehovah and righteous,
And our God is compassionate.
6 The keeper of the simple is Jehovah,
I was brought low and He saved me.
7 Return, my soul, to thy rest,
For Jehovah has lavished good on thee.
8 For Thou hast delivered my soul from death,
My eye from tears,
My foot from stumbling.
9 I shall walk before Jehovah in the lands of the living.
10 I believed when I [thus] spake,
"I am greatly afflicted."
11 I said in my agitation,
"All men deceive."
12 What shall I return to Jehovah,
[For] all His goodness lavished on me?
13 The cup of salvations will I lift,
And on the name of Jehovah will I call.
14 My vows will I repay to Jehovah,
Oh! may I [do it] before all His people!
15 Precious in the eyes of Jehovah
Is the death of His favoured ones.
16 I beseech Thee, Jehovah--for I am Thy servant,
I am Thy servant, the son of Thy handmaid,
Thou hast loosed my bonds.
17 To Thee will I offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving,
And on the name of Jehovah will I call.
18 My vows will I repay to Jehovah,
Oh! may I [do it] before all His people!
19 In the courts of the house of Jehovah,
In the midst of thee, Jerusalem.
Hallelujah.
This psalm is intensely individual. "I," "me," or "my" occurs
in every verse but two (vv. 5, 19). The singer is but recently
delivered from some peril, and his song heaves with a ground-swell
of emotion after the storm. Hupfeld takes offence at its "continual
alternation of petition and recognition of the Divine beneficence and
deliverance, or vows of thanksgiving," but surely that very blending
is natural to one just rescued and still panting from his danger.
Certain grammatical forms indicate a late date, and the frequent
allusions to earlier psalms point in the same direction. The words
of former psalmists were part of this singer's mental furniture, and
came to his lips, when he brought his own thanksgivings. Hupfeld
thinks it "strange" that "such a patched-up (_zusammengestoppelter_)
psalm" has "imposed" upon commentators, who speak of its depth and
tenderness; it is perhaps stranger that its use of older songs has
imposed upon so good a critic and hid these characteristics from
him. Four parts may be discerned, of which the first (vv. 1-4)
mainly describes the psalmist's peril; the second (vv. 5-9), his
deliverance; the third glances back to his alarm and thence draws
reasons for his vow of praise (vv. 10-14); and the fourth bases the
same vow on the remembrance of Jehovah's having loosed his bonds.
The early verses of Psalm xviii. obviously colour the psalmist's
description of his distress. That psalm begins with an expression
of love to Jehovah, which is echoed here, though a different word
is employed. "I love" stands in ver. 1 without an object, just as
"I will call" does in ver. 2, and "I believed" and "I spoke" in
ver. 10. Probably "Thee" has fallen out, which would be the more
easy, as the next word begins with the letter which stands for it in
Hebrew. Cheyne follows Graetz in the conjectural adoption of the same
beginning as in ver. 10, "I am confident." This change necessitates
translating the following "for" as "that," whereas it is plainly to
be taken, like the "for" at the beginning of ver. 2, as causal. Ver.
3 is moulded on Psalm xviii. 5, with a modification of the metaphors
by the unusual expression "the narrows of Sheol." The word rendered
_narrows_ may be employed simply as = distress or straits, but it is
allowable to take it as picturing that gloomy realm as a confined
gorge, like the throat of a pass, from which the psalmist could find
no escape. He is like a creature caught in the toils of the hunter
Death. The stern rocks of a dark defile have all but closed upon him,
but, like a man from the bottom of a pit, he can send out one cry
before the earth falls in and buries him. He cried to Jehovah, and
the rocks flung his voice heavenwards. Sorrow is meant to drive to
God. When cries become prayers, they are not in vain. The revealed
character of Jehovah is the ground of a desperate man's hope. His
own Name is a plea which Jehovah will certainly honour. Many words
are needless when peril is sore and the suppliant is sure of God.
To name Him and to cry for deliverance are enough. "I beseech Thee"
represents a particle which is used frequently in this psalm, and by
some peculiarities in its use here indicates a late date.
The psalmist does not pause to say definitely that he was delivered,
but breaks into the celebration of the Name on which he had called,
and from which the certainty of an answer followed. Since Jehovah
is gracious, righteous (as strictly adhering to the conditions He
has laid down), and merciful (as condescending in love to lowly and
imperfect men), there can be no doubt how He will deal with trustful
suppliants. The psalmist turns for a moment from his own experience
to sun himself in the great thought of the Name, and thereby to come
into touch with all who share his faith. The cry for help is wrung
out by personal need, but the answer received brings into fellowship
with a great multitude. Jehovah's character leads up in ver. 6 to a
broad truth as to His acts, for it ensures that He cannot but care
for the "simple," whose simplicity lays them open to assailants,
and whose single-hearted adhesion to God appeals unfailingly to His
heart. Happy the man who, like the psalmist, can give confirmation
from his own experience to the broad truths of God's protection to
ingenuous and guileless souls! Each individual may, if he will, thus
narrow to his own use the widest promises, and put "I" and "me"
wherever God has put "whosoever." If he does he will be able to turn
his own experience into universal maxims, and encourage others to put
"whosoever" where his grateful heart has put "I" and "me."
The deliverance, which is thus the direct result of the Divine
character, and which extends to all the simple, and therefore included
the psalmist, leads to calm repose. The singer does not say so in cold
words, but beautifully wooes his "soul," his sensitive nature, which
had trembled with fear in death's net, to come back to its rest. The
word is in the plural, which may be only another indication of late
date, but is more worthily understood as expressing the completeness of
the repose, which in its fulness is only found in God, and is made the
more deep by contrast with previous "agitation."
Vv. 8, 9, are quoted from Psalm lvi. 13 with slight variations, the
most significant of which is the change of "light" into "lands."
It is noticeable that the Divine deliverance is thus described as
surpassing the psalmist's petition. He asked, "Deliver my soul."
Bare escape was all that he craved, but he received, not only the
deliverance of his soul from death, but, over and above, his tears
were wiped away by a loving hand, his feet stayed by a strong arm.
God over-answers trustful cries, and does not give the minimum
consistent with safety, but the maximum of which we are capable. What
shall a grateful heart do with such benefits? "I will walk before
Jehovah in the lands of the living," joyously and unconstrainedly
(for so the form of the word "walk" implies), as ever conscious of
that presence which brings blessedness and requires holiness. The
paths appointed may carry the traveller far, but into whatever lands
he goes, he will have the same glad heart within to urge his feet and
the same loving eye above to beam guidance on him.
The third part (vv. 10-14) recurs to the psalmist's mood in his
trouble, and bases on the retrospect of that and of God's mercy the
vow of praise. Ver. 10 may be variously understood. The "speaking"
may be taken as referring to the preceding expressions of trust or
thanksgivings for deliverance. The sentiment would then be that the
psalmist was confident that he should one day thus speak. So Cheyne;
or the rendering may be "I believed in that I spake thus"--_i.e._,
that he spake those trustful words of ver. 9 was the result of sheer
faith (so Kay). The thing spoken may also be the expressions which
follow, and this seems to yield the most satisfactory meaning. "Even
when I said, I am afflicted and men fail me, I had not lost my
faith." He is re-calling the agitation which shook him, but feels
that, through it all, there was an unshaken centre of rest in God.
The presence of doubt and fear does not prove the absence of trust.
There may live a spark of it, though almost buried below masses of
cold unbelief. What he said was the complaint that he was greatly
afflicted, and the bitter wail that all men deceive or disappoint. He
said so in his agitation (Psalm xxxi. 22). But even in recognising
the folly of trusting in men, he was in some measure trusting God,
and the trust, though tremulous, was rewarded.
Again he hurries on to sing the issues of deliverance, without
waiting to describe it. That little dialogue of the devout soul with
itself (vv. 12, 13) goes very deep. It is an illuminative word as
to God's character, an emancipating word as to the true notion of
service to Him, a guiding word as to common life. For it declares
that men honour God most by taking His gifts with recognition of
the Giver, and that the return which He in His love seeks is only
our thankful reception of His mercy. A giver who desires but these
results is surely Love. A religion which consists first in accepting
God's gift and then in praising by lip and life Him who gives
banishes the religion of fear, of barter, of unwelcome restrictions
and commands. It is the exact opposite of the slavery which says,
"Thou art an austere man, reaping where thou didst not sow." It is
the religion of which the initial act is faith, and the continual
activity, the appropriation of God's spiritual gifts. In daily life
there would be less despondency and weakening regrets over vanished
blessings, if men were more careful to take and enjoy thankfully all
that God gives. But many of us have no eyes for other blessings,
because some one blessing is withdrawn or denied. If we treasured all
that is given, we should be richer than most of us are.
In ver. 14 the particle of beseeching is added to "before," a
singular form of expression which seems to imply desire that the
psalmist may come into the temple with his vows. He may have
been thinking of the "sacrificial meal in connection with the
peace-offerings." In any case, blessings received in solitude should
impel to public gratitude. God delivers His suppliants that they may
magnify Him before men.
The last part (vv. 15-19) repeats the refrain of ver. 14, but with
a different setting. Here the singer generalises his own experience,
and finds increase of joy in the thought of the multitude who dwell
safe under the same protection. The more usual form of expression
for the idea in ver. 15 is "their _blood_ is precious" (Psalm lxxii.
14). The meaning is that the death of God's saints is no trivial
thing in God's eyes, to be lightly permitted. (Compare the contrasted
thought, xliv. 12.) Then, on the basis of that general truth, is built
ver. 16, which begins singularly with the same beseeching word which
has already occurred in vv. 4 and 14. Here it is not followed by an
expressed petition, but is a yearning of desire for continued or
fuller manifestation of God's favour. The largest gifts, most fully
accepted and most thankfully recognised, still leave room for longing
which is not pain, because it is conscious of tender relations with
God that guarantee its fulfilment. "I am Thy servant." Therefore the
longing which has no words needs none. "Thou hast loosed my bonds." His
thoughts go back to "the cords of death" (ver. 3), which had held him
so tightly. God's hand has slackened them, and, by freeing him from
that bondage, has bound him more closely than before to Himself. "Being
made free from sin, ye became the slaves of righteousness." So, in the
full blessedness of received deliverance, the grateful heart offers
itself to God, as moved by His mercies to become a living sacrifice,
and calls on the Name of Jehovah, in its hour of thankful surrender,
as it had called on that Name in its time of deep distress. Once more
the lonely suppliant, who had waded such deep waters without companion
but Jehovah, seeks to feel himself one of the glad multitude in the
courts of the house of Jehovah, and to blend his single voice in the
shout of a nation's praise. We suffer and struggle for the most part
alone. Grief is a hermit, but Joy is sociable; and thankfulness desires
listeners to its praise. The perfect song is the chorus of a great
"multitude which no man can number."