forty-four sacred poems, thirty-two of which are ascribed to David. The
English reader must observe, that this word is not the same in the
original Hebrew as that which forms the general title of the book of
Psalms; the latter expressing a Hymn of Praise. The word _Psalm_,
however, as used both in the context and in the titles of the individual
compositions, is uniformly _Mizmor_ in the original; a term which
accurately defines their poetical character. To explain its proper
meaning I must have recourse to the beautiful and accurate definition of
Bishop Lowth. “The word _Mizmor_ signifies a composition, which in a
peculiar manner is cut up into sentences, short, frequent, and measured
by regular intervals.”... He adds that _Zamar_ means to cut or prune, as
applied to the removing superfluous branches from trees; and, after
mentioning the secondary sense of the word, “to sing with a voice or
instrument,” gives it as his opinion, that _Mizmor_ may be more properly
referred to the primary sense of the root, so as to mean a poem cut up
into short sentences, and pruned from all superfluity of words, which is
the peculiar characteristic of the Hebrew poetry.—_John Jebb._
_Title._—The title that David gives this Psalm is worth your notice, _A
Psalm of David to bring to remembrance_. David was on his death-bed as
he thought, and he said it shall be a Psalm of remembrance, to bring sin
to remembrance, to confess to God my uncleanness with Bathsheba, to
bring to my remembrance the evils of my life. Whenever God brings thee
under affliction, thou art then in a fit plight to confess sin to God,
and call to remembrance thy sin.—_Christopher Love._
_Title._—The Psalm is “_to bring to remembrance_.” This seems to teach
us that good things need to be kept alive in our memories, that we
should often sit down, look back, retrace, and turn over in our
meditation things that are past, lest at any time we should let any good
thing sink into oblivion. Among the things which David brought to his
own remembrance, the first and foremost were, (1), _his past trials and
his past deliverances_. The great point, however, in David’s Psalm is to
bring to remembrance, (2), _the depravity of our nature_. There is,
perhaps, no Psalm which more fully than this describes human nature as
seen in the light which God the Holy Ghost casts upon it in the time
when he convinces us of sin. I am persuaded that the description here
does not tally with any known disease of the body. It is very like
leprosy, but it has about it certain features which cannot be found to
meet in any leprosy described either by ancient or modern writers. The
fact is, it is a spiritual leprosy, it is an inward disease which is
here described, and David paints it to the very life, and he would have
us to recollect this. A third thing the Psalm brings to our remembrance
is, (3), _our many enemies_. David says, that his enemies laid snares
for him, and sought his hurt, and spoke mischievous things, and devised
and imagined deceits all the day long. “Well,” says one, “how was it
that David had so many enemies? How could he make so many? Must he not
have been imprudent and rash, or perhaps morose?” It does not appear so
in his life. He rather made enemies by his being scrupulously holy. His
enemies attacked him, not because he was wicked, but as he says, in this
very Psalm, they were his enemies because he loved the thing which is
good. The ultimate result of the religion of Christ is to make peace
everywhere, but the first result is to cause strife. Further, the Psalm
reminds us of, (4), _our gracious God_. Anything which drives us to God
is a blessing, and anything which weans us from leaning on an arm of
flesh, and especially that weans us from trying to stand alone, is a
boon to us.—_C. H. S._
_Whole Psalm._—The most wonderful features in this Psalm, are the depth
of misery into which the Psalmist gradually plunges in his complaints in
the first part of it, the sudden grasp at the arm of mercy and
omnipotence that is made in verse 8, and the extreme height of comfort
and consolation that it reaches in the end.—_Benjamin Weiss._
_Verse 1.—“O Lord, rebuke me not in thy wrath.”_ But is it not an absurd
request, to require God not to rebuke me in his anger; as though I
thought he would rebuke me if he were not angry? Is it not a senseless
suit to pray to God not to chasten me in his displeasure, as though he
would chasten me if he were not displeased? The frowardest natures that
are, will yet be quiet as long as they be pleased: and shall I have such
a thought of the great yet gracious God, that he should be pleased and
yet not be quiet? But, O my soul, is it all one, to rebuke in his anger
and to rebuke when he is angry? He may rebuke when he is angry, and yet
restrain and bridle in his anger; but to rebuke in his anger is to let
loose the reins to his anger; and what is it to give the reins to his
anger, but to make it outrun his mercy? And then what a miserable case
should I be in, to have his anger to assault me, and not his mercy ready
to relieve me? To have his indignation fall upon me when his
lovingkindness were not by to take it off! Oh, therefore, _rebuke me not
in thine anger, O God_, but let thy rebuking stay for thy mercy; chasten
me not in thy displeasure, but let thy lovingkindness have the keeping
of thy rod.—_Sir Richard Baker._
_Verse 1.—“Neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure,”_ etc. Both these
words, which we translate to _chasten_, and _hot displeasure_, are words
of a heavy and of a vehement signification. They extend both to express
the eternity of God’s indignation, even to the binding of the soul and
body in eternal chains of darkness. For the first _jasar_, signifies in
the Scriptures, _vincire_, to bind, often with ropes, often with chains;
to fetter, or manacle, or pinion men that are to be executed; so that it
imports a slavery, a bondage all the way, and a destruction at last. And
so the word is used by Rehoboam, “My father chastised you with whips,
but I will chastise you with scorpions.” 1 Kings xii. 11. And then, the
other word, _chamath_, doth not only signify “_hot displeasure_,” but
that effect of God’s _hot displeasure_ which is intended by the prophet
Esay: “Therefore hath he poured forth his fierce wrath, and the strength
of battle, and it hath set him on fire round about, yet he knew it not,
and it burned him, yet he laid it not to heart.” These be the fearful
conditions of God’s hot displeasure, to be in a furnace, and not to feel
it; to be in a habit of sin, and not know what leads us into temptation;
to be burnt to ashes, and so not only without all moisture, all holy
tears, but, as ashes, without any possibility that any good thing can
grow in us. And yet this word, chamath, hath a heavier signification
than this; for it signifies poison itself, destruction itself, for so it
is twice taken in one verse: “Their poison is like the poison of a
serpent” (Psalm lviii. 4); so that this _hot displeasure_ is that poison
of the soul, obduration here, and that extension of that obduration, a
final impenitence in this life, and an infinite impenitableness in the
next, to die without any actual penitence here, and live without all
possibility of future penitence for ever hereafter. David therefore
foresees, that if God _rebuke in anger_, it will come to a _chastening
in hot displeasure_. For what should stop him? For, “if a man sin
against the Lord, who will plead for him?” says Eli. “Plead thou my
cause,” says David; it is only the Lord that can be of counsel with him,
and plead for him; and that Lord is both the judge and angry too.—_John
Donne._
_Verse 2.—“For thine arrows stick fast in me.”_ First, we shall see in
what respect he calls them “_arrows_:” and therein, first, that they are
_alienæ_, they are shot from others, they are not in his own power; a
man shoots not an arrow at himself; and then that they are _veloces_,
swift in coming, he cannot give them their time; and again, they are
_vix visibiles_, though they be not altogether invisible in their
coming, yet there is required a quick eye, and an express diligence and
watchfulness to avoid them; so they are arrows in the hand of another,
not his own; and swift as they come, and invisible before they come. And
secondly, they are many arrows: the victory lies not in escaping one or
two. And thirdly, they “_stick_” in him: they find not David so good
proof as to rebound back again, and imprint no sense: and they stick
“_fast_:” though the blow be felt and the wound discerned, yet there is
not a present cure, he cannot shake them off; _infixæ sunt_; and then,
with all this, they stick fast _in him_; that is, in all him; in his
body and soul; in him, in his thoughts and actions; in him, in his sins
and in his good works too; _infixæ mihi_, there is no part of him, no
faculty in him, in which they stick not; for (which may well be another
consideration), that “_hand_” which shot them, _presses him_, follows
the blow, and presses him “_sore_,” that is, vehemently. But yet (which
will be our conclusion), _sagittæ tuæ_, _thy arrows_, and _manus tua_,
_thy hand_, these arrows that are shot, and this hand that presses him
so sore, are the arrows, and the hand _of God_; and therefore, first,
they must have their effect, they cannot be disappointed: but yet they
bring their comfort with them, because they are his, because no arrows
from him, no pressing with his hand, comes without that _balsamum_ of
mercy to heal as fast as he wounds.—_John Donne._
_Verse 2.—“Thine arrows stick fast.”_ Though importunity be to God most
pleasing always, yet to us it is then most necessary when the cheerful
face of God is turned into frowns, and when there is a justly conceived
fear of the continuance of his anger: and have I not just cause to fear
it, having the arrows of his anger sticking so fast in me? If he had
meant to make me but a butt, at which to shoot his arrows, he would
quickly, I suppose, have taken them up again; but now that he leaves
them sticking in me, what can I think, but that he means to make me his
quiver; and then I may look long enough before he come to pluck them
out. They are arrows, indeed, that are feathered with swiftness, and
headed with sharpness; and to give them a force in flying, they are
shot, I may say, out of his cross-bow, I am sure his bow of cross; for
no arrows can fly so fast, none pierce so deep, as the crosses and
afflictions with which he hath surprised me: I may truly say surprised
me, seeing when I thought myself most safe, and said, “I shall never be
moved,” even then, these arrows of his anger lighted upon me, and stick
so fast in my flesh, that no arm but his that shot them is ever able to
draw them forth. Oh, then, as thou hast stretched forth thine arm of
anger, O God, to shoot these arrows at me, so stretch forth thine arm of
mercy to draw them forth, that I may rather sing hymns than dirges unto
thee; and that thou mayest show thy power, as well in pardoning as thou
hast done in condemning.—_Sir Richard Baker._
_Verse 2.—“Thine arrows.”_ Arrows are (1) swift, (2) secret, (3) sharp,
(4) killing, instruments. They are instruments drawing blood and
drinking blood, even unto drunkenness (Deut. xxxii. 42); afflictions are
like arrows in all these properties. 1. Afflictions often come very
speedily, with a glance as an arrow, quick as a thought. 2. Afflictions
come suddenly, unexpectedly; an arrow is upon a man afore he is aware,
so are afflictions. Though Job saith, the thing he feared came upon him,
he looked for this arrow before it came; yet usually afflictions are
unlooked-for guests, they thrust in upon us when we dream not of them.
3. They come with little noise; an arrow is felt before, or, as soon as
it is heard; an arrow flies silently and secretly, stealing upon and
wounding a man, unobserved and unseen. Lastly, all afflictions are
sharp, and in their own nature killing and deadly. That any have good
from them, is from the grace of God, not from their nature.—_Joseph
Caryl._
_Verse 2._—Let no one think these expressions of penitence (verses 1-4)
overstrained or excessive. They are the words of the Holy Spirit of God,
speaking by the mouth of the man after God’s own heart. If we were as
repentant as David, we should bring home to ourselves his language; as
it is, our affections are chilled, and therefore we do not enter into
his words.... And let us observe how all the miseries are referred to
their proper end. The sin is not bewailed merely on account of its ill
effect on the guilty one, but on account of the despite done to God. The
Psalmist’s first thought is the “_anger_” of the Lord, and his “_hot
displeasure_.” It is not the “arrows” that afflict him so much as that
they are God’s. “_Thine_ arrows stick fast in me, and _thy_ hand
presseth me.” The reason why there is no health in his flesh is because
of God’s displeasure. Such is true contrition, “not the sorrow of the
world which worketh death, but the sorrow that worketh repentance not to
be repented of.”—_A Commentary on the Seven Penitential Psalms. Chiefly
from Ancient Sources [by A. P. F.], 1847._
_Verse 2.—“Thy hand presseth me sore.”_ Not the hand of Egypt or Ashur;
then were it hand for hand, a duel of some equality: hand to hand; here
forces and stratagems might achieve the victory: but “_Thy hand_.” The
weight of a man’s blow is but weak, according to the force and pulse of
his arm; as the princes of Midian answered Gideon, when he bade his son
try the dint of his sword upon them; “Rise thou, and fall upon us: for
as the man is, so is his strength.” Judges viii. 21. But “it is a
fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” Heb. x. 31. As
Homer called the hands of Jupiter χείρες ἄεπτοι, hands whose praise
could not be sufficiently spoken; which some read χείρες ἄαπτοι, hands
inaccessible, irresistible for strength: all the gods in heaven could
not ward a blow of Jupiter’s hand. This hand never strikes but for sin;
and where sin is mighty his blow is heavy.—_Thomas Adams._
_Verse 3.—“Thine anger ... my sin.”_ I, alas! am as an anvil under two
hammers; one of thine anger, another of my sin; both of them beating
incessantly upon me; the hammer of thine anger beating upon my flesh and
making that unsound; the hammer of my sin beating upon my bones and
making them unquiet; although indeed both beat upon both: but thine
anger more upon my flesh, as being more sensible; my sin more upon my
bones, as being more obdurate. God’s anger and sin are the two efficient
causes of all misery; but the procatartic[13] cause indeed is sin: God’s
anger, like the house that Samson pulled upon his own head, falls not
upon us but when we pull it upon ourselves by sin.—_Sir Richard Baker._
_Verse 3.—“My flesh ... my bones.”_ I know by the unsoundness of my
flesh that God is angry with me; for if it were not for his anger my
flesh would be sound: but what soundness can there be in it now, when
God’s angry hand lies beating upon it continually, and never ceaseth? I
know by the unquietness of my bones that I have sin in my bosom; for if
it were not for sin my bones would be quiet. But what quietness can be
in them now, when sin lies gnawing upon them incessantly with the worm
of remorse? One would think my bones were far enough removed and closely
enough hidden from sins doing them any hurt: yet see the searching
nature, the venomous poison of sin, which pierceth through my flesh, and
makes unquietness in my very bones. I know my flesh is guilty of many
faults, by which it justly deserves unsoundness; but what have my bones
done? for they minister no fuel to the flames of my flesh’s sensuality;
and why then should they be troubled? But are not my bones supporters of
my flesh, and are they not by this at least accessory to my flesh’s
faults? As accessories, then, they are subject to the same punishment
the flesh itself is, which is the principal.—_Sir Richard Baker._
_Verse 3.—“Neither is there any rest in my bones because of my sin.”_ A
Christian in this life is like quicksilver, which hath a principle of
motion in itself, but not of rest: we are never quiet, but as the ball
upon the racket, or the ship upon the waves. As long as we have sin,
this is like quicksilver: a child of God is full of motion and
disquiet.... We are here in a perpetual hurry, in a constant
fluctuation; our life is like the tide; sometimes ebbing, sometimes
flowing; here is no rest; and the reason is because we are out of
centre. Everything is in motion till it comes at the centre; Christ is
the centre of the soul; the needle of the compass trembles till it comes
to the North Pole.—_Thomas Watson._
_Verse 3._—Learn here of beggars how to procure succour and relief. Lay
open thy sores, make known thy need, discover all thy misery, make not
thy case better than it is. Beggars by experience find that the more
miserable they appear to be, the more they are pitied, the more
succoured; and yet the mercies of the most merciful men are but as drops
in comparison of the oceans of God’s mercies; and among men there are
many like the priest and Levite in the parable (Luke x. 30-32). that can
pass by a naked, wounded man, left half dead, and not pity him nor
succour him. But God, like the merciful Samaritan, hath always
compassion on such as with sense of their misery are forced to cry out
and crave help. Read how Job, chap. vi. and vii; David, Ps. xxxviii, 3,
etc., Hezekiah, Isa. xxxviii. 10, etc., and other like saints, poured
out their complaints before the Lord, and withal observe what mercy was
showed them of the Lord, and you may have in them both good patterns how
to behave yourselves in like cases, and good encouragement so to do.
This is it which God expecteth of us, and whereunto he desireth to bring
us, that seeing our own emptiness and insufficiency, and the impotency
and disability of others to help us, we should in all humility fly to
his mercy.—_William Gouge._
_Verse 4.—“For mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as an heavy
burden they are too heavy for me.”_ David proceeds to a reason why his
prayer must be vehement, why these miseries of his are so violent, and
why God’s anger is permanent, and he finds all this to be, because in
his sins, all these venomous qualities, vehemence, violence, and
continuance, were complicated, and enwrapped; for he had sinned
vehemently, in the rage of lust, and violently, in the effusion of
blood, and permanently, in a long and senseless security. They are all
contracted in this text into two kinds, which will be our two parts in
handling these words: first, the _Supergressæ super_, “_Mine iniquities
are gone over my head_,” there is the multiplicity, the number, the
succession, and so the continuation of his sin; and then, the _Gravatæ
super_, “_My sins are as a heavy burden, too heavy for me_,” there is
the greatness, the weight, the unsupportableness of his sin. St.
Augustine calls these two distinctions or considerations of sin,
_ignorantiam, et difficultatem_; first that David was ignorant, that he
saw not the tide, as it swelled up upon him, _abyssus abyssum_, depth
called upon depth; and all thy waters, and all thy billows are gone over
me (says he in another place); he perceived them not coming till they
were over him, he discerned not his particular sins then when he
committed them, till they came to the _supergressæ super_, to that
height that he was overflowed, surrounded, his iniquities were gone over
his head; and in that St. Augustine notes _ignorantiam_, his
unobservance, his inconsiderations of his own case; and then he notes
_difficultatem_, the hardness of recovering, because he that is under
water hath no air to see by, no air to hear by, he hath nothing to reach
to, he touches not ground, to push him up, he feels no bough to pull him
up, and therein that further notes _difficultatem_, the hardness of
recovering. Now Moses expresses these two miseries together, in the
destruction of the Egyptians, in his song, after Israel’s deliverance
and the Egyptians’ submersion, “The depths have covered them” (there is
the _supergressæ super_, their iniquities, in that punishment of their
iniquities were gone over their heads), and then, they sank into the
bottom like a stone (says Moses), there is the _gravatæ super_, they
depressed them, suppressed them, oppressed them, they were under them,
and there they must lie. The Egyptians had, David had, we have, too many
sins to swim above water, and too great sins to get above water again
when we are sunk.—_John Donne._
_Verse 4.—“As an heavy burden they are too heavy for me.”_ No strength
is so great but it may be overburdened: though Samson went light away
with the gates of Gaza, yet when a whole house fell upon him it crushed
him to death. And such, alas! am I; I have had sin as a burden upon me
ever since I was born, but bore it a long time as light as Samson did
the gates of Gaza; but now that I have pulled a whole house of sin upon
me, how can I choose but be crushed to death with so great a weight? And
crushed, O my soul, thou shouldst be indeed, if God for all his anger
did not take some pity on thee, and for all his displeasure did not stay
his hand from further chastening thee.—_Sir Richard Baker._
_Verse 4._—It is of singular use to us, that the backslidings of the
holy men of God are recorded in Holy Writ. Spots appear nowhere more
disagreeable than when seen in a most beautiful face, or on the cleanest
garment. And it is expedient to have a perfect knowledge of the
filthiness of sin. We also learn from them to think humbly of ourselves,
to depend on the grace of God, to keep a stricter eye upon ourselves,
lest perhaps we fall into the same or more grievous sins. Gal. vi.
1.—_Herman Witsius, D.D., 1636-1708._
_Verses 4, 5._—It is only when we can enter into _all_ that is implied
here that we begin to see our exceeding sinfulness. There is a certain
feeling of sin which does not interfere with our pride and self-respect.
We can have that sort of feeling, and say pretty earnestly, “_Mine
iniquities are gone over mine head: as an heavy burden they are too
heavy for me._” But it is otherwise with us when we get to know
ourselves better and to feel ourselves _loathsome_ in our wickedness,
when our folly and meanness and ingratitude oppress us, and we begin to
loathe ourselves, and can enter into verse five. Our wounds, once an
object of self-pity, and something in which we could claim sympathy and
healing from our friends, have become “_corrupt_,” because of the
meanness and folly we feel to be in us. We hide them now, for if they
were seen, would not “lovers and friends stand aloof from our sore?”
Then we are silent except to God, “For in _thee_, O Lord, do I hope:
_thou_ wilt hear, O Lord my God,” verse 15. O love of God that turns not
away! O blessed Jesus, that turned not away from the leprous man that
fell upon his face and said, “If thou wilt, thou canst make me clean,”
but put forth thine hand and _touched_ him, saying, “I will: be thou
clean,” to whom _can_ we go but unto thee!—_Mary B. M. Duncan._
_Verse 5.—“My wounds stink and are corrupt,”_ etc. These expressions
seem to be in a great measure figurative, and significant rather of the
diseased state of his mind than of his body.—_William Walford._
_Verse 5.—“My wounds stink and are corrupt.”_—I know, O Lord, I have
done most foolishly, to let my sores run so long without seeking for
help; for now, “_My wounds stink and are corrupt_,” in as ill a case as
Lazarus’ body was when it had been four days buried; enough to make any
man despair that did not know thee as I do. For, do not I know, that
_nullum tempus occurrit tibi_; do not I know thou hast as well wisdom to
remedy my foolishness as power to cure my wounds? Could the grave hold
Lazarus when thou didst but open thy mouth to call him forth? No more
can the corruption of my sores be any hindrance to their healing when
thy pleasure is to have them be cured. Although, therefore, I have done
my own discretion wrong to defer my care, yet I will not do thy power
wrong to despair of thy cure: for, how should I despair, who know thee
to be as powerful as thou art merciful; if I may not rather say, to be
as merciful as thou art powerful!—_Sir Richard Baker._
_Verse 5.—“My wounds stink and are corrupt.”_ Either they must be
understood literally of the sores that were in his body (as the words in
the following verse may also seem to import) which he calls _wounds_, to
intimate that he looked upon them as the wheals or swelling tumours (for
so the original word may signify) which the rod of God had made in his
flesh, or the wounds of those arrows of which he had spoken (verse 2),
“Thine arrows stick fast in me;” or else figuratively, of any other
miseries that God had brought upon him, comparing them to stinking and
festering sores; either to imply the long continuance of them, or the
sharp pains and sorrows which he felt in himself by reason thereof. Yet
some, I know, would have it meant of the shame which his sins had
brought upon him.—_Arthur Jackson._