frequenting the houses of Bacchus that the godly take a great deal more,
and have a great deal more joy in frequenting the houses of God. But
’tis a thing that God promised long ago by the prophet: “Them will I
bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer:
their burnt offerings and their sacrifices shall be accepted upon mine
altar; for mine house shall be called an house of prayer for all
people.” Isaiah lvi. 7. And methinks, I hear the willing people of God’s
power, merrily calling one to another in the words of Micah iv. 2,
“come, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, and to the house of
the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in
his paths: for the law shall go forth of Zion, and the word of the Lord
from Jerusalem.” How is a godly man ravished with “the beauty of
holiness,” when he is at such meetings! How was holy David taken with
being in the house of God at Jerusalem! insomuch, that if he were kept
from it but a little while, his soul panted for it, and longed after it,
and fainted for lack of it, as a thirsty hart would do for lack of
water! “_As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul
after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when
shall I come and appear before God?_” The poor disconsolate captives
preferred it to the best place in their memory. “If I forget thee, O
Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning” (Psalm cxxxvii. 5);
nay, they preferred it to their chiefest joy: “If I do not remember
thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not
Jerusalem above my chief joy,” verse 6. There was no place in the world
that David regarded or cared to be in in comparison of it. “A day in thy
courts is better than a thousand. I had rather be a doorkeeper in the
house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness” (Psalm
lxxxiv. 10), insomuch, that he could find it in his heart, nay, and
would choose, if he might have his desire, to spend all his days in that
house. Psalm xxvii. 4.—_Zachary Bogan._
_Verse 1._—The soul strongly desires acquaintance with God here in his
ordinances. Chrysostom’s very rhetorical upon the text, and tells us how
that David, like a lover in absence, must express his affections; as
they have their dainty sighs, and passionate complaints, their loving
exclamations, and sundry discoveries of affection; they can meet with
never a tree, but in the bark of it they must engrave the name of their
darling, Δεινὸς δ’ ὁ ἔρως ὥσπερ ὁ κιττὸς αὐτὸν ἐκ πάσης ἀναδῆσαι
προφάσεως; ’twill twine upon every opportunity, as the Moralist speaks.
And the true lovers of God, they are always thinking upon him, sighing
for him, panting after him, talking of him, and (if ’twere possible)
would engrave the name of the Lord Jesus upon the breasts of all the men
in the world. Look upon David, now a banished man, and fled from the
presence of Saul, and see how he behaves himself: not like Themistocles
or Camillus, or some of those brave banished worthies. He does not
complain of the ungratefulness of his country, the malice of his
adversaries, and his own unhappy success. No, instead of murmuring, he
falls a panting, and that only after his God. He is banished from the
sanctuary, the palace of God’s nearest presence, and chiefest residence;
he can’t enjoy the beauty of holiness, and all other places seem to him
but as the tents of Kedar. He is banished from the temple, and he thinks
himself banished from his God, as it is in the following words, “_When
shall I come and appear before God?_” The whole stream of expositors run
this way, that it is meant of his strong longing to visit the Temple,
and those amiable courts of his God, with which his soul was so much
taken.—_Nathanael Culverwel’s “Panting Soul,” 1652._
_Verse 1, 2, 3_, are an illustration of the frequent use of the word
Elohim in the second book of Psalms. We give Fry’s translation of the
first three verses—
As the hart looketh for the springs of water,
So my soul looketh for thee, O Elohim.
My soul is athirst for Elohim, for the living El:
When shall I go and see the face of Elohim?
My tears have been my meat day and night,
While they say to me continually, Where is thy Elohim?
_Verse 2.—“My soul thirsteth for God,”_ etc. See that your heart rest
not short of Christ in any duty. Let go your hold of no duty until you
find something of Christ in it; and until you get not only an _handful_,
but an _armful_ (with old Simeon, Luke ii. 28); yea, a _heartful_ of the
blessed and beautiful babe of Bethlehem therein. Indeed you should have
commerce with heaven, and communion with Christ in duty, which is
therefore called _the presence of God_, or your appearing before him.
Exodus xxiii. 17, and Psalm xlii. 2. Your duties then must be as a
bridge to give you passage, or as a boat to carry you over into the
bosom of Christ. Holy Mr. Bradford, Martyr, said he could not leave
_confession_ till he found his heart touched and broken for sin; nor
_supplication_, till his heart was affected with the beauty of the
blessings desired; nor _thanksgiving_, till his soul was quickened in
return of praises; nor _any duty_, until his heart was brought into a
duty frame, and something of Christ was found therein. Accordingly
Bernard speaks, _Nunquam abs te absque te recedam Domine_: I will never
depart (in duty) from thee without thee, Lord. Augustine said he loved
not Tully’s elegant orations (as formerly) because he could not find
_Christ_ in them: nor doth a gracious soul love empty duties. Rhetorical
flowers and flourishes, expressions without impressions in praying or
preaching, are not true bread, but a tinkling cymbal to it, and it
cannot be put off with the empty spoon of aëry notions, or lovely (that
are not also lively) songs: if Christ talk with you in the way (of duty)
your heart will burn within you. Luke xxiv. 16, 32.—_Christopher Ness’s
“Chrystal Mirrour,” 1679._
_Verse 2.—“The living God.”_ There are three respects especially in
which our God is said to be the “_living God_.” First, _originally_,
because he only hath life in himself, and of himself, and all creatures
have it from him. Secondly, _operatively_, because he is the only giver
of life unto man. Our life, in the threefold extent and capacity of it,
whether we take it for natural, or spiritual, or eternal, flows to us
from God. Thirdly, God is said to be the “_living God_” by way of
_distinction_, and in opposition to all false gods.—_Thomas Horton._
_Verse 2 (last clause)._—A wicked man can never say in good earnest,
“_When shall I come and appear before God?_” because he shall do so too
soon, and before he would, as the devils that said Christ came “to
torment them before their time.” Ask a thief and a malefactor whether he
would willingly appear before the judge. No, I warrant you, not he; he
had rather there were no judge at all to appear before. And so is it
with worldly men in regard of God they desire rather to be hidden from
him.—_Thomas Horton._
_Verse 2.—“Come and appear before God.”_ When any of us have been at
church, and waited in the sanctuary, let us examine what did we go
thither to see; a shadow of religion? An outside of Christian forms? A
graceful orator? The figures and shapes of devotion? Surely then we
might with as much wisdom, and more innocence, have gone to the
wilderness “to see a reed shaken with the wind.” Can we say as the
Greeks at the feast (John xii. 21), “We would see Jesus?” Or as Absalom
(2 Sam. xiv. 32), “It is to little purpose I am come to Jerusalem if I
may not see the King’s face.” To little purpose we go to church, or
attend on ordinances, if we seek not, if we see not God there.—_Isaac
Watts, D.D., 1674-1748._
_Verse 2._—If you attempt to put a little child off with toys and fine
things, it will not be pleased long, it will cry for its mother’s
breast; so, let a man come into the pulpit with pretty Latin and Greek
sentences, and fine stories, these will not content a hungry soul, he
must have the sincere milk of the word to feed upon.—_Oliver Heywood._
_Verse 2.—“When shall I come and appear before God?”_—
While I am banish’d from thy house
I mourn in secret, Lord;
“When shall I come and pay my vows,
And hear thy holy word?”
So while I dwell in bonds of clay,
Methinks my soul shall groan.
“When shall I wing my heavenly way
And stand before thy throne?”
I love to see my Lord below,
His church displays his grace;
But upper worlds his glory know
And view him face to face.
I love to worship at his feet,
Though sin attack me there,
But saints exalted near his seat
Have no assaults to fear.
I’m pleased to meet him in his court,
And taste his heavenly love,
But still I think his visits short,
Or I too soon remove.
He shines, and I am all delight,
He hides and all is pain;
When will he fix me in his sight,
And ne’er depart again?
_Isaac Watts, from his Sermons._
_Verse 3.—“My tears have been my meat day and night.”_ The Psalmist
could eat nothing because of his extreme grief.—_John Gadsby._
_Verse 3.—“They say unto me.”_ It is not only of me, but to me; they
spake it to his very face, as those who were ready to justify it and
make it good, that God had forsaken him. Backbiting argues more
baseness, but open reproach carries more boldness, and shamelessness,
and impudence in it; and this is that which David’s enemies were guilty
of here in this place.—_Thomas Horton._
_Verse 3.—“Where is thy God?”_ God’s children are impatient, as far as
they are men, of reproaches; but so far as they are Christian men, they
are impatient of reproaches in religion; “_Where is now thy God?_” They
were not such desperate Atheists as to think there was no God, to call
in question whether there was a God or no, though, indeed, they were
little better; but they rather reproach and upbraid him with his
singularity, _where_ is _thy_ God? You are one of God’s darlings; you
are one that thought nobody served God but you; you are one that will go
alone—_your_ God! So this is an ordinary reproach, an ordinary part for
wicked men to cast at the best people, especially when they are in
misery. What is become of your profession now? What is become of your
forwardness and strictness now? What is become of your God that you
bragged so of, and thought yourselves so happy in, as if he had been
nobody’s God but yours? We may learn hence the disposition of wicked
men. It is a character of a poisonful, cursed disposition to upbraid a
man with his religion.
But what is the scope? The scope is worse than the words “_where is thy
God?_” The scope is to shake his faith and his confidence in God, and
this that is which touched him so nearly while they upbraided him. For
the devil knows well enough that as long as God and the soul join
together, it is in vain to trouble any man, therefore he labours to put
jealousies, to accuse God to man, and man to God. He knows there is
nothing in the world can stand against God. As long as we make God our
confidence, all his enterprises are in vain. His scope is, therefore, to
shake our affiance in God. “_Where is thy God?_” So he dealt with the
head of the church, our blessed Saviour himself, when he came to tempt
him. “If thou be the Son of God, command these stones to be made bread.”
Matt. iv. 3. He comes with an “_if_,” he laboured to shake him in his
Sonship. The devil, since he was divided from God himself eternally, is
become a spirit of division; he labours to divide even God the Father
from his own Son; “_If thou be the Son of God?_” So he labours to sever
Christians from their head Christ. “_Where is thy God?_” There was his
scope, to breed division if he could, between his heart and God, that he
might call God into jealousy, as if he had not regarded him: thou hast
taken a great deal of pains in serving thy God; thou seest how he
regards thee now; “_Where is thy God?_”—_Richard Sibbes._
_Verse 3._—How powerfully do the scoffs and reproaches of the ungodly
tend to shake the faith of a mind already dejected! How peculiarly
afflictive to the soul that loves God, is the dishonour cast upon him by
his enemies!—_Henry March, in “Sabbaths at Home,” 1823._
_Verse 3.—“Where is thy God?”_
“Where is now thy God!” Oh, sorrow!
Hourly thus to hear him say,
Finding thus the longed-for morrow,
Mournful as the dark to-day.
Yet not thus my soul would languish,
Would not thus be grieved and shamed,
But for that severer anguish,
When I hear the Lord defamed.
“Where is now thy God!” Oh, aid me,
Lord of mercy, to reply—
“He is HERE—though foes invade me,
Know his outstretched arm is nigh.”
Help me thus to be victorious,
While the shield of faith I take;
Lord, appear, and make thee glorious:
Help me for thy honour’s sake.
_Henry March._
_Verse 4.—“When I remember these things,”_ etc. To a person in misery it
is a great increase of misery to have been once happy; it was to David
an occasion of new tears when he remembered his former joys. Time was,
says the poor soul, when I thought of God with comfort, and when I
thought of him as my own God; and to lose a God that I once enjoyed is
the loss of all my losses, and of all my terrors the most terrible. Time
was when I could go and pray to him, and ease myself in prayer; but now
I have no boldness, no hope, no success in prayer. I cannot call him _my
Father_ any more. Time was when I could read the Bible and treasure up
the promises, and survey the land of Canaan as my own inheritance; but
now I dare not look into the Word lest I read my own condemnation there.
The Sabbath was formerly to me as one of the days of heaven, but now it
is also, as well as the rest, a sad and a mournful day. I formerly
rejoiced in the name of Christ, “I sat under his shadow.” Cant. ii. 3. I
was in his eyes as one that found favour; but now my soul is like the
deserts of Arabia, I am scorched with burning heat. From how great a
height have I fallen! How fair was I once for heaven and for salvation,
and now am like to come short of it! I once was flourishing in the
courts of the Lord, and now all my fruit is blasted and withered away:
“his dew lay all night upon my branches,” but now I am like the
mountains of Gilboa, no rain falls upon me. Had I never heard of heaven
I could not have been so miserable as I now am: had I never known God,
the loss of him had not been so terrible as now it is like to be. Job
xxix. 2, 3.—_Timothy Rogers._
_Verse 4 (first clause)._—The blessedness of even the remembrance of
divine worship is so great, that it can save the soul from despair.—_J.
P. Lange’s Commentary_.
_Verse 4.—“I pour out my soul.”_ The very soul of prayer lies in the
pouring out of the soul before God.—_Thomas Brooks._
_Verse 4.—“I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house
of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept
holyday.”_ The gracious God is pleased to esteem it his glory to have
many beggars thronging at the beautiful gate of his temple, for
spiritual and corporal alms. What an honour is it to our great Landlord
that multitudes of tenants flock together to his house to pay their rent
of thanks and worship for their all which they hold of him! How loud and
lovely is the noise of many golden trumpets! Good Lord, what an echo do
they make in heaven’s ears! When many skilful musicians play in concert
with well tuned and prepared instruments the music cannot but be
ravishing to God himself.—_George Swinnock._
_Verse 4._—Do but consider David’s tears and grief for want of, and his
fervent prayers for the fruition of, public ordinances even then, when
he had opportunities for private performances; and surely thou wilt
esteem the ministry of the Word no mean mercy. See his sorrow when he
was driven from God’s sanctuary. “_When I remember these things I pour
out my soul in me: for I had gone with the multitude, I went with them
to the house of God._” “_My soul is poured out_;” that is, I am
overwhelmed with grief, and ever ready to die when I compare my present
condition with my former happiness in the fruition of religious
assemblies. There is an elegancy in the phrase “_poured out_;” the word
is applied to water, or any liquid thing, and in Scripture signifieth
abundance. Joel ii. 28. My life is ready to be poured out as water upon
the ground, which cannot be gathered up again, when I remember my former
mercies, and consider my present misery.... The loss of his father,
mother, wives, children, lands, liberty—nay, of his very life, would not
have gone so near his heart as the loss of public ordinances. As his
sorrow was great for the want, so was his suit most earnest for the
enjoyment of them. How many a prayer doth he put up for the liberty of
the tabernacle! Psalm xliii. 3, 4, and xxvii. 4, 8. It is the one thing,
the principal thing which he begs of God.—_Henry Smith._
_Verse 4._—The bias of the soul is remarkably shown by the objects of
regretful recollection.—_Henry March._
_Verse 4.—“With a multitude that kept holy day.”_
Though private prayer be a brave design
Yet public hath more promises, more love:
And love’s a weight to hearts, to eyes a sign.
We all are but cold suitors; let us move
Where it is warmest. Leave thy six and seven;
Pray with the most: for where most pray, is heaven.
_George Herbert, in “The Temple.”_
_Verse 5._—See also on verse 11, and Psalm xliii. verse 5.
_Verse 5._—“WHY _art thou cast down, O my soul_?” Athanasius counselled
his friend, that when any trouble should fall upon him, he should fall
presently to the reading of this Psalm; for there was a way, he thought,
of curing by the like, as well as by the _contrary_: for ’tis observed
indeed that when two instruments are tuned to the same unison, if you
touch the strings of the one, the strings of the other will move too,
though untouched, if placed at a convenient distance. That therefore you
may try the same experiments upon yourselves, do but set your affections
for a tune in the same key in which these words were spoken; if really
you feel none, imagine some affliction laid upon you; when you have done
so, that you may be the more fully moved, place your attention at a
convenient distance, look narrowly on this holy prophet, observe how he
retires himself, shuts out the world, calls his sad soul to as sad a
reckoning: _Quare tam tristis?_ O my soul! thou that wert infused to
give me life; nay, says Philo the Jew, a spark, a beam of the divinity,
thou, which shouldst be to this dark body of mine as the sun is to the
earth, enlightening, quickening, cheering up my spirits; tell me, why
art thou clouded? why art _thou_ cast down?...
Think of this, ye that feel the heaviness of your soul; think of it, ye
that do not, for ye may feel it. Know there is a sorrow “that worketh
repentance not to be repented of.” Know again there is a sorrow “that
worketh death.” Remember there were tears that got sinful Mary heaven;
remember again, there were tears that got sinful Esau _nothing_. For as
in martyrdom, it is not the sword, the boiling lead, or fire, not _what_
we suffer, but _why_, that makes us martyrs; so in our sorrows, it is
not how deep they wound, but _why_, that justifies them. Let every one,
therefore, that hath a troubled heart, ask his soul the “_Why_:” “_Why
art thou cast down?_” Is it not for thine own sins, or the sins of
others? Take either of them, thine eyes will have a large field to
water. Is it for that thou hast been a child of wrath, a servant of the
devil? Is it for that thou art a candle set in the wind, blown at by
several temptations? or is it for that thou wouldst be freed from them?
“Woe is me, that I sojourn in Mesech, that I dwell in the tents of
Kedar!” Psalm cxx. 5. Art thou troubled as St. Augustine was, when he
read that the way to heaven was narrow, the number small that travelled
thither? Or hast thou put on St. Bernard’s resolution, who had made a
compact with his soul, never to joy till he had heard his Saviour call
him, “Come, ye blessed,” nor never to leave sorrowing till he had
escaped the bitter sentence, “Go, ye cursed”? If any of these be the
“_Why_,” the ground of thy sorrows, if such thoughts have _cast thee
down_; know, that thy Saviour hath already blessed thee, for, “Blessed
are they that mourn.” The angels are thy servants, they gather thy
tears; God is thy treasurer, he lays them up in his bottle; the Holy
Ghost is thy comforter, he will not leave thee. Fear not, then, to be
thus “_cast down_,” fear not to be thus _disquieted within thee_.—_Brian
Duppa (Bishop), 1588-1662, in a Sermon entitled “The Soule’s
Soliloquie.”_
_Verse 5.—“Why art thou cast down, O my soul?”_ Why, or what may be the
reason, that this text is three times used in this Psalm and in the
next? whereas you do not find two verses of the same length used in all
the Book of Psalms besides, except in Psalm cvii., where is often
repeated, “O that men would praise the Lord,” etc. Now, surely, the
frequent mention of this text and words doth argue and note unto us the
weightiness of the matter....
Wicked men oppressed David, and the devil tempted him; yet he chides his
own heart and nothing else. David did not chide at Saul, nor chide at
Absalom; but he chides and checks his own heart. “Why art thou cast
down, O my soul?” Though the devil and wicked men, the one do tempt, the
other do oppress as instruments of punishment for sin; yet we with David
are to chide our own hearts.
Consider, what though in our translations the words are translated and
rendered passively, “_Why art thou cast down?_” yet, in the original,
they are rendered actively; we read it, “_Why art thou cast down?_”
etc.; but in the original it is read, מַה־תִּשְׁתּוֹחֲחִי נַפְשִׁי
וּמַה־תֶּהֱמִי עָלָי[19] “_Why bowest_ (or pressest) _thou down thyself,
my soul? and why tumultest thou against me?_” As Arias Montanus, _Cur
humiliasti te? Cur deprimes te anima mea?_ So Lorinus, Prov. xii. 25.
And the words so read, they do intimate thus much, that God’s own people
may be cast down too much for the sense of sin, and they are most active
in their own down-casting. It is not God nor the devil that cast thee
down; but _Why dost thou cast thyself down?_ to create more trouble on
thy self than either God doth inflict or the devil tempt thee
to.—_Christopher Love, in “The Dejected Soul’s Cure,” 1657._
_Verse 5.—“Why art thou cast down, O my soul?”_ Consider but this, how
much there is of God in the affliction. 1. Came it not without _God’s
privity_? Why art thou troubled, then? Thy Father knowing of it would
have stopped its course if it had been best for thee. 2. Came it not
_without his command_? Why art thou troubled? It is the cup that thy
Father hath given thee, and wilt thou not drink it? 3. Is it thy
Father’s will that thou shouldest suffer, and shall it be thy humour to
rebel? 4. Hath God done _no more than he might do_? Why dost thou
murmur, as if he had done thee wrong? 5. Is it a piece of his _wise
acting_? Why dost thou exalt thy foolish will above his infinite wisdom?
6. Is his way _a way of mercy_? Why does thy mutinous spirit stumble at
it, as a rough way? 7. Is the thing _good_ that is befallen thee? Why
dost thou quarrel as if it were evil? 8. Is it _less than men suffer_,
than his own people, yea, than his own Son hath suffered, and hast thou
cause to complain? 9. Is it but _thy merit_? and less than that, too;
and shall the living man complain for the punishment of his sin? 10. Is
it _in measure_, ordered with care? (1) by the physician’s hand; and (2)
a little draught, and (3) proportioned to thy strength; (4) measured out
according to the proportion of strength and comfort he intends to
measure thee out, to bear it withal? Why art thou cast down? Why art
thou disquieted? Is the end and fruit of it but to make thee white, and
purify thee? to purge thy sin past, and to prevent it for the time to
come? and dost thou find a present fruit in it? Dost thou find that now
thou art turned into a chalk-stone; thy groves and images—those
corruptions which did attend thee while thou wert in prosperity, and
which would attend thee if thou hadst these good things which thou
wantest, and art disquieted for; and if those evils which thou feelest
or fearest were far from thy sense and fear, would still attend
thee—that those do not now stand up? Lift up thy head, Christian! say to
thy soul, “_Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou
disquieted in me?_” Meditate what there is of God in the cause of thy
disquietments.—_John Collinge (1623-1690) in “A Cordial for a Fainting
Soule,” 1652._
_Verse 5.—“Why art thou disquieted?”_ more literally, _tumultuated_, a
word frequently applied to the roaring and tumult and tossing of the
sea. See Isaiah xvii. 12; Jer. v. 22; vi. 23; li. 55.—_Henry March._