that some curse has fallen upon him, and is riveted to him. They
insinuate that a foul secret stains his character, the ghost whereof
haunts his house, and never can be laid. An air of mystery is cast
around this doubly dark saying, as if to show how indistinct are the
mutterings of malice. Even thus was our Lord accounted “smitten of God
and afflicted.” His enemies conceived that God had forsaken him, and
delivered him for ever into their hands. “_And now that he lieth he
shall rise up no more._” His sickness they hoped was mortal, and this
was fine news for them. No more would the good man’s holiness chide
their sin, they would now be free from the check of his godliness. Like
the friars around Wickliffe’s bed, their prophesyings were more jubilant
than accurate, but they were a sore scourge to the sick man. When the
Lord smites his people with his rod of affliction for a small moment,
their enemies expect to see them capitally executed, and prepare their
_jubilates_ to celebrate their funerals, but they are in too great a
hurry, and have to alter their ditties and sing to another tune. Our
Redeemer eminently foretokened this, for out of his lying in the grave
he has gloriously risen. Vain the watch, the stone, the seal! Rising he
pours confusion on his enemies.
9. “_Yea._” Here is the climax of the sufferer’s woe, and he places
before it the emphatic affirmation, as if he thought that such villany
would scarcely be believed. “_Mine own familiar friend._” “The man of my
peace,” so runs the original, with whom I had no differences, with whom
I was in league, who had aforetime ministered to my peace and comfort.
This was Ahithophel to David, and Iscariot with our Lord. Judas was an
apostle, admitted to the privacy of the Great Teacher, hearing his
secret thoughts, and, as it were, allowed to read his very heart. “_Et
tu Brute?_” said the expiring Cæsar. The kiss of the traitor wounded our
Lord’s heart as much as the nail wounded his hand. “_In whom I
trusted._” Judas was the treasurer of the apostolic college. Where we
place great confidence an unkind act is the more severely felt. “_Which
did eat of my bread._” Not only as a guest but as a dependant, a
pensioner at my board. Judas dipped in the same dish with his Lord, and
hence the more accursed was his treachery in his selling his Master for
a slave’s price. “_Hath lifted up his heel against me._” Not merely
turned his back on me, but left me with a heavy kick such as a vicious
horse might give. Hard is it to be spurned in our need by those who
formerly fed at our table. It is noteworthy that the Redeemer applied
only the last words of this verse to Judas, perhaps because, knowing his
duplicity, he had never made a familiar friend of him in the fullest
sense, and had not placed implicit trust in him. Infernal malice so
planned it that every circumstance in Jesus’ death should add wormwood
to it; and the betrayal was one of the bitterest drops of gall. We are
indeed, wretched when our _quondam_ friend becomes our relentless foe,
when confidence is betrayed, when all the rites of hospitality are
perverted, and ingratitude is the only return for kindness; yet in so
deplorable a case we may cast ourselves upon the faithfulness of God,
who, having delivered our Covenant Head, is in verity engaged to be the
very present help of all for whom that covenant was made.
10 But thou O LORD, be merciful unto me, and raise me up, that I may
requite them.
10. “_But thou, O Lord, be merciful unto me._” How the hunted and
affrighted soul turns to her God! How she seems to take breath with a
“but, thou!” How she clings to the hope of mercy from God when every
chance of pity from man is gone! “_And raise me up._” Recover me from my
sickness, give me to regain my position. Jesus was raised up from the
grave; his descent was ended by an ascent. “_That I may requite them._”
This as it reads is a truly Old Testament sentence, and quite aside from
the spirit of Christianity, yet we must remember that David was a person
in magisterial office, and might without any personal revenge, desire to
punish those who had insulted his authority and libelled his public
character. Our great Apostle and High Priest had no personal
animosities, but even he by his resurrection has requited the powers of
evil, and avenged on death and hell all their base attacks upon his
cause and person. Still the strained application of every sentence of
this Psalm to Christ is not to our liking, and we prefer to call
attention to the better spirit of the gospel beyond that of the old
dispensation.
11 By this I know thou favourest me, because mine enemy doth not
triumph over me.
12 And as for me, thou upholdest me in mine integrity, and settest
me before thy face for ever.
13 Blessed _be_ the LORD God of Israel from everlasting, and to
everlasting. Amen and Amen.
11. We all are cheered by tokens for good, and the Psalmist felt it to
be an auspicious omen, that after all his deep depression he was not
utterly given over to his foe. “_By this I know that thou favourest
me._” Thou hast a special regard to me, I have the secret assurance of
this in my heart, and, therefore, thine outward dealings do not dismay
me, for I know that thou lovest me in them all. “_Because mine enemy
doth not triumph over me._” What if the believer has no triumph over his
foes, he must be glad that they do not triumph over him. If we have not
all we would we should praise God for all we have. Much there is in us
over which the ungodly might exult, and if God’s mercy keeps the dogs’
mouths closed when they might be opened, we must give him our heartiest
gratitude. What a wonder it is that when the devil enters the lists with
a poor, erring, bedridden, deserted, slandered saint, and has a thousand
evil tongues to aid him, yet he cannot win the day, but in the end
slinks off without renown.
“The feeblest saint shall win the day
Though death and hell obstruct his way.”
12. “_And as for me_,” despite them all and in the sight of them all,
“_thou upholdest me in mine integrity_;” thy power enables me to rise
above the reach of slander by living in purity and righteousness. Our
innocence and consistency are the result of the divine upholding. We are
like those glasses without feet, which can only be upright while they
are held in the hand; we fall, and spill, and spoil all, if left to
ourselves. The Lord should be praised every day if we are preserved from
gross sin. When others sin they show us what we should do but for grace.
“He to-day and I to-morrow,” was the exclamation of a holy man, whenever
he saw another falling into sin. Our integrity is comparative as well as
dependant, we must therefore be humbled while we are grateful. If we are
clear of the faults alleged against us by our calumniators, we have
nevertheless quite enough of actual blameworthiness to render it
shameful for us to boast. “_And settest me before thy face for ever._”
He rejoiced that he lived under the divine surveillance; tended, cared
for, and smiled upon by his Lord; and yet more, that it would be so
world without end. To stand before an earthly monarch is considered to
be a singular honour, but what must it be to be a perpetual courtier in
the palace of the King Eternal, Immortal, Invisible?
13. The Psalm ends with a doxology. “_Blessed be the Lord_,” _i.e._, let
him be glorified. The blessing at the beginning from the mouth of God is
returned from the mouth of his servant. We cannot add to the Lord’s
blessedness, but we can pour out our grateful wishes, and these he
accepts, as we receive little presents of flowers from children who love
us. Jehovah is the personal name of our God. “_God of Israel_” is his
covenant title, and shows his special relation to his elect people.
“_From everlasting and to everlasting._” The strongest way of expressing
endless duration. _We_ die, but the glory of God goes on and on without
pause. “_Amen and amen._” So let it surely, firmly, and eternally be.
Thus the people joined in the Psalm by a double shout of holy
affirmation; let us unite in it with all our hearts. This last verse may
serve for the prayer of the universal church in all ages, but none can
sing it so sweetly as those who have experienced as David did the
faithfulness of God in times of extremity.
EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUAINT SAYINGS.
_Title._—The _Syriac_ says, “It was a Psalm of David, when he appointed
overseers to take care of the poor.”—_Adam Clarke._
_Whole Psalm._—A prophecy of Christ and the traitor Judas.—_Eusebius of
Cæsarea, quoted by J. M. Neale._
_Verse 1.—“Blessed is he that considereth the poor.”_ Interpreters are
generally of opinion that the exercise of kindness and compassion,
manifested in taking care of the miserable, and helping them, is here
commended. Those, however, who maintain that the Psalmist here commends
the considerate candour of those who judge wisely and charitably of men
in adversity, form a better judgment of his meaning. Indeed, the
participle, מַשְׂכִּיל _maskil_, cannot be explained in any other way.
At the same time it ought to be observed on what account it is that
David declares those to be blessed who form a wise and prudent judgment
concerning the afflictions by which God chastises his servants....
Doubtless it happened to him as it did to the holy patriarch Job, whom
his friends reckoned to be one of the most wicked of men, when they saw
God treating him with great severity. And certainly it is an error which
is by far too common among men, to look upon those who are oppressed
with afflictions as condemned and reprobate.... For the most part,
indeed, we often speak rashly and indiscriminately concerning others,
and, so to speak, plunge even into the lowest abyss those who labour
under affliction. To restrain such a rash and unbridled spirit, David
says, that they are blessed who do not suffer themselves, by speaking at
random, to judge harshly of their neighbours; but discerning aright the
afflictions by which they are visited, mitigate by the wisdom of the
spirit, the severe and unjust judgments to which we naturally are so
prone.—_John Calvin._
_Verse 1.—“Blessed is he that considereth the poor.”_ As Christ
considered us in our state of poverty, so ought we most attentively to
consider him in his; to consider what he suffered in his own person; to
discern him suffering in his poor afflicted members; and to extend to
them the mercy which he extended to us. He, who was “blessed” of
Jehovah, and “delivered in the evil day” by a glorious resurrection,
will “bless” and “deliver” in like manner, such as for his sake, love
and relieve their brethren.—_George Horne._
_Verse 1.—“Blessed is he that considereth the poor.”_ Not the poor of
the world in common, nor poor saints in particular but some single poor
man; for the word is in the singular number, and designs our Lord Jesus
Christ, who, in the last verse of the preceding Psalm, is said to be
_poor and needy_.—_John Gill._
_Verse 1.—“Blessed is he that considereth the poor.”_ I call your
attention to the way in which the Bible enjoins us to take up the care
of the poor. It does not say in the text before us, Commiserate the
poor; for, if it said no more than this, it would leave their
necessities to be provided for by the random ebullitions of an impetuous
and unreflecting sympathy. It provides them with a better security than
the mere feeling of compassion—a feeling which, however useful to the
purpose of excitement, must be controlled and regulated. Feeling is but
a faint and fluctuating security. Fancy may mislead it. The sober
realities of life may disgust it. Disappointment may extinguish it.
Ingratitude may embitter it. Deceit, with its counterfeit
representations, may allure it to the wrong object. At all events, Time
is the little circle in which it in general expatiates. It needs the
impression of sensible objects to sustain it; nor can it enter with zeal
or with vivacity into the wants of the abstract and invisible soul. The
Bible, then, instead of leaving the relief of the poor to the mere
instinct of sympathy, makes it a subject for _consideration_—“Blessed is
he that _considereth_ the poor,” a grave and prosaic exercise, I do
allow, and which makes no figure in those high-wrought descriptions,
where the exquisite tale of benevolence is made up of all the
sensibilities of tenderness on the one hand, and of all the ecstacies of
gratitude on the other. The Bible rescues the cause from the mischief to
which a heedless or unthinking sensibility would expose it. It brings it
under the cognisance of a higher faculty—a faculty of steadier operation
than to be weary in well-doing, and of sturdier endurance than to give
it up in disgust. It calls you to _consider_ the poor. It makes the
virtue of relieving them a matter of computation, as well as of
sentiment, and in so doing puts you beyond the reach of the various
delusions, by which you are at one time led to prefer the indulgence of
pity to the substantial interest of its object; at another, are led to
retire chagrined and disappointed from the scene of duty, because you
have not met with the gratitude or the honesty that you laid your
account with; at another, are led to expend all your anxieties upon the
accommodation of time, and to overlook eternity. It is the office of
_consideration_ to save you from all these fallacies. Under its tutorage
attention to the wants of the poor ripens into principle....
It must be obvious to all of you, that it is not enough that you give
money, and add your name to the contributions of charity. You must give
it with judgment. You must give your time and your attention. You must
descend to the trouble of examination. You must rise from the repose of
contemplation, and make yourself acquainted with the object of your
benevolent exercises.... To give money is not to do all the work and
labour of benevolence. You must go to the poor man’s sick-bed. You must
lend your hand to the work of assistance. This is true and
unsophisticated goodness. It may be recorded in no earthly documents;
but, if done under the influence of Christian principle, in a word, if
done unto Jesus, it is written in the book of heaven, and will give a
new lustre to that crown to which his disciples look forward in time,
and will wear through eternity.—_From a Sermon preached before the
Society for Relief of the Destitute Sick, in St. Andrew’s Church,
Edinburgh, by Thomas Chalmers, D.D. and LL.D. (1780-1847)._
_Verse 1.—“Blessed is he that considereth the poor.”_ A Piedmontese
nobleman into whose company I fell, at Turin, told me the following
story: “I was weary of life, and after a day such as few have known, and
none would wish to remember, was hurrying along the street to the river,
when I felt a sudden check, I turned and beheld a little boy, who had
caught the skirt of my cloak in his anxiety to solicit my notice. His
look and manner were irresistible. No less so was the lesson he had
learnt—‘There are six of us, and we are dying for want of food.’ ‘Why
should I not,’ said I to myself, ‘relieve this wretched family? I have
the means, and it will not delay me many minutes. But what if it does?’
The scene of misery he conducted me to I cannot describe. I threw them
my purse, and their burst of gratitude overcame me. It filled my eyes,
it went as a cordial to my heart. ‘I will call again to-morrow,’ I
cried. ‘Fool that I was to think of leaving a world where such pleasure
was to be had, and so cheaply!’”—_Samuel Rogers (1763-1855) in “Italy.”_
_Verse 1.—“He that considereth the poor:”_—
An ardent spirit dwells with Christian love,
The eagle’s vigour in the pitying dove.
’Tis not enough that we with sorrow sigh,
That we the wants of pleading man supply,
That we in sympathy with sufferers feel,
Nor hear a grief without a wish to heal:
Not these suffice—to sickness, pain, and woe,
The Christian spirit loves with aid to go:
Will not be sought, waits not for want to plead,
But seeks the duty—nay, prevents the need;
Her utmost aid to every ill applies,
And plants relief for coming miseries.
_George Crabbe, 1754-1832._
_Verse 1._—How foolish are they that fear to lose their wealth by giving
it, and fear not to lose themselves by keeping it! He that lays up his
gold may be a good _jailer_, but he that lays it out is a good
_steward_. Merchants traffic thither with a commodity where ’tis
precious in regard of scarcity. We do not buy wines in England to carry
them to France, spices in France to carry them to the Indies; so for
labour and work, repentance and mortification, there is none of them in
heaven, there is peace and glory, and the favour of God indeed. A
merchant without his commodity hath but a sorry welcome. God will ask
men that arrive at heaven’s gates, _ubi opera_? Rev. xxii. 12. His
reward shall be according to our works. Thou hast riches here, and here
be objects that need thy riches—the poor; in heaven there are riches
enough but no poor, therefore, by faith in Christ make over to them thy
moneys in this world, that by bill of exchange thou mayest receive it in
the world to come; that only you carry with you which you send before
you. Do good while it is in your power; relieve the oppressed, succour
the fatherless, while your estates are your own; when you are dead your
riches belong to others. One light carried before a man is more
serviceable than twenty carried after him. In your compassion to the
distressed, or for pious uses, let your hands be your executors, and
your eyes your overseers.—_Francis Raworth, Teacher to the Church at
Shoreditch, in a Funeral Sermon, 1656._
_Verses 1, 3._—It is a blessed thing to receive when a man hath need;
but ’tis a more blessed thing to give than to receive. “_Blessed_ (saith
the prophet David) _is he that considereth the poor_.” What? to say,
alas, poor man! the world is hard with him, I would there were a course
taken to do him good? No, no; but so to consider him as to give; to give
till the poor man be satisfied, to draw out one’s sheaf, ay, one’s very
soul to the hungry. But what if troubles should come? were it not better
to keep money by one? Money will not deliver one. It may be an occasion
to endanger one, to bring one into, rather than help one out of trouble;
but if a man be a merciful man, _God will deliver him_, either by
himself, or by some other man or matter. Ay, but what if _sickness_
come? Why, “_the Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing_;”
and, which is a great ease and kindness; God, as it were, himself “_will
make all his bed in his sickness_.” Here poor people have the advantage:
such must not say, Alas, I am a poor woman, what works of mercy can I
do? for they are they who can best make the beds of sick folk, which we
see is a great act of mercy in that it is said, that _the Lord himself
will make their bed in their sickness_. And there are none so poor, but
they may _make the beds_ of the sick.—_Richard Capel._
_Verses 1, 5.—“He that considered.”_ “_Mine enemies._” Strigelius has
observed, there is a perpetual antithesis in this Psalm between the few
who have a due regard to the poor in spirit, and the many who afflict or
desert them.—_W. Wilson, D.D._
_Verse 2.—“The Lord will preserve him, and keep him alive.”_ It is
worthy of remark, that _benevolent persons_, who “_consider the poor_,”
and especially the _sick poor_; who search cellars, garrets, back lanes,
and such abodes of misery, to find them out (even in the places where
contagion keeps its seat), very seldom fall a prey to their own
benevolence. The Lord, in an especial manner, keeps them _alive_, and
preserves them; while many, who endeavour to keep far from the
contagion, are assailed by it, and fall victims to it. God loves the
merciful man.—_Adam Clarke._
_Verse 2.—“He shall be blessed upon the earth.”_ None of the godly man’s
afflictions shall hinder or take away his begun blessedness, even in
this world.—_David Dickson._
_Verse 3.—“Thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.”_ Into what
minuteness of exquisite and touching tenderness does the Lord condescend
to enter! One feels almost as we may suppose Peter felt when the Saviour
came to him, and would have washed his feet, “Lord! thou shalt never
wash my feet;” thou shalt never make my bed. And yet, “If I wash thee
not, thou hast no part with me;” if the Lord make not our bed in our
sickness, there is no peace nor comfort there. We have had David calling
on God to bow down his ear, like a loving mother listening to catch the
feeblest whisper of her child; and the image is full of the sweetest
sympathy and condescension; but here the Lord, the great God of heaven,
he that said when on earth, “I am among you as one that serveth,” does
indeed take upon him the form, and is found in fashion as a servant,
fulfilling all the loving and tender offices of an assiduous
nurse.—_Barton Bouchier._
_Verse 3.—“Thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.”_ The meaning
rather is, “it is no longer a sick bed, for thou hast healed him of his
disease.”—_J. J. Stewart Perowne._
_Verse 3._—When a good man is ill at ease, God promiseth to make all his
bed in his sickness. Pillow, bolster, head, feet, sides, all his bed.
Surely that God who made him knows so well his measure and temper as to
make his bed to please him. Herein his art is excellent, not fitting the
bed to the person, but the person to the bed; infusing patience into
him. But, oh! how shall God make my bed, who have no bed of mine own to
make. Thou fool, he can make thy not having a bed to be a bed unto thee.
When Jacob slept on the ground, who would not have had his hard lodging,
therewithal to have his heavenly dream?—_Thomas Fuller._
_Verse 3._—Sure that bed must need be soft which God will make.—_T.
Watson._
_Verse 3._—We must not forget that Oriental beds needed not to be made
in the same sense as our own. They were never more than mattresses or
quilts thickly padded, and were turned when they became uncomfortable,
and that is just the word here used.—_C. H. S._
_Verse 3._—When I visited one day, as he was dying, my beloved friend
Benjamin Parsons, I said, “How are you to-day, Sir?” He said, “My head
is resting very sweetly on three pillows—infinite power, infinite love,
and infinite wisdom.” Preaching in the Canterbury Hall, in Brighton, I
mentioned this some time since; and many months after I was requested to
call upon a poor but holy young woman, apparently dying. She said, “I
felt I must see you before I died. I heard you tell the story of
Benjamin Parsons and his three pillows; and when I went through a
surgical operation, and it was very cruel, I was leaning my head on
pillows, and as they were taking them away I said, ‘Mayn’t I keep them?’
The surgeon said, ‘No, my dear, we must take them away.’ ‘But,’ said I,
‘you can’t take away Benjamin Parsons’ three pillows. I can lay my head
on infinite power, infinite love, and infinite wisdom.’”—_Paxton Hood,
in “Dark Sayings on a Harp,” 1865._
_Verses 3, 4._—What saith David from the very bottom of his heart, in
his sickness? Not, take away this death only. No; but David being sick,
first comforts himself with this promise, “_The Lord will strengthen him
upon the bed of languishing: thou wilt make all his bed in his
sickness_;” and then adds, “_I said, Lord, be merciful unto me, and heal
my soul_;” that is, destroy my lusts, which are the diseases of my soul,
Lord; and heal my soul, and renew life and communion with thee, which is
the health and strength of my soul. Do not take this sickness and death
only away; but this sin away, that hath dishonoured thee, hath separated
between me and thee: “_Heal my soul, for I have sinned against
thee._”—_Thomas Goodwin._
_Verse 4.—“I said, Lord, be merciful.”_ Mercy, not justice! The extreme
of mercy for the extreme of misery. Righteousness as filthy rags; a
flesh in which dwelleth no good thing, on the one side; on the other, it
is “neither herb nor mollifying plaster that restored” to health; “but
thy word, O Lord, which healeth all things.” Wisd. xvi. 12.—_Thomas
Aquinas, quoted by J. M. Neale._