'O Lord of Hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in Thee.'
--PSALM lxxxiv. 12.
In my last sermon from the central portion of this psalm I pointed out
that the Psalmist thrice celebrates the blessedness of certain types of
character, and that these threefold benedictions constitute, as it were,
the keynotes of the portions of the psalm in which they respectively
occur. They are these: 'Blessed are they that dwell in Thy house';
'Blessed is the man in whose heart are the ways'; and this final one,
'Blessed is the man that trusteth in Thee.'
Now, this last benediction includes, as I then remarked, both of the
others; both the blessedness belonging to dwelling in, and that realised
by journeying towards, the House of the Lord. For trust is both fruition
and longing; both aspiration and possession. But it not only includes
the other two: it explains and surpasses them. For they bear, deeply
stamped upon them, the impression of the imperfect stage of revelation
to which the psalm belongs, and are tied to form in a manner which we
ought not to be. But here the Psalmist gets behind all the externals of
ceremonial worship, and goes straight to the heart of spiritual religion
when, for dwelling in, and journeying towards, any house of the Lord, he
substitutes that plain expression, 'the man that trusteth in Thee.'
Now, the other two benedictions of which I have spoken do respectively
form the centre of the first and second portions of this psalm; in each
case the remainder of the section being an explanation of that central
utterance. And here the case is the same; for the verses which precede
this final exclamation are various phases of the experience of a man who
trusts in God, and are the ground upon which his faith is pronounced
'blessed.'
So I desire now to view these three preceding verses together, as being
illustrations of the various blessednesses of the life of trust in God.
They are not exhaustive. There are other tints and flashes of glory
sleeping in the jewel which need the rays of light to impinge upon it at
other angles, in order to wake them into scintillation and lustre. But
there is enough in the context to warrant the Psalmist's outburst into
this final rapturous exclamation, and ought to be enough to make us seek
to possess that life as our own.
I. First, then, note here how the heart of religion always has been, and
is, trust in God.
This Psalmist, nourished amidst the externalisms of an elaborate
ceremonial, and compelled, by the stage of revelation at which he stood,
to localise worship in an external Temple, in a fashion that we need not
do, had yet attained to the conviction that, in the desert or in the
Temple, God was near; that no weary pilgrimage was needed to reach His
house, but that with one movement of a trusting heart the man clasped
God wherever he was. And that is the living centre of all religion. I do
not mean merely that our way to be sure of God is not through the
understanding only, but through the outgoing of confidence in Him--but I
mean that the kernel of a devout life is trust in God. The bond that
underlies all the blessedness of human society, the thing that makes the
sweetness of the sweetest ties that can knit men together, the secret of
all the happy loves of husband and wife, friend and friend, parent and
child, is simple confidence. And the more utter the confidence the more
tranquilly blessed is the union and the life that flow from it. Transfer
this, then--which is the bond of perfectness between man and man--to our
relation to God, and you get to the very heart of the mystery. Not by
externalisms of any kind, not by the clear dry light of the
understanding, but by the outgoing of the heart's confidence to God, do
we come within the clasp of His arms and become recipients of His grace.
Trust knits to the unseen, and trust alone.
That has always been the way. This Psalmist is no exception to the
devout souls of his time. For though, as I have said, externalisms and
ritualisms filled a place then, that it is an anachronism and a
retrogression that they should be supposed to fill now, still beneath
all these there lay this one ancient, permanent relation, the relation
of trust. From the day in which the 'father of the faithful' as he is
significantly called Abraham, 'believed God, and it was counted to him
for righteousness,' down all through the ages of that ancient Church,
every man who laid a real hold upon God clasped Him by the outstretched
hand of faith. So the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews was fully
warranted in claiming all these ancient heroes, sages, and saints, as
having lived by faith, and as being the foremost files in the same army
in which the Christians of his day marched. The prophets who cried,
'Trust ye in the Lord for ever, for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting
strength,' were saying the very same thing as the Apostles who preached
'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.' The
contents of the faith were expanded; the faith itself was identical.
Like some of those old Roman roads, where to-day the wains of commerce
and the chariots of ease and the toiling pedestrians pass over the lava
blocks that have been worn by the tramp of legions and rutted by the
wheels of their chariots, the way to God that we travel is the way on
which all the saints from the beginning of time have passed in their
pilgrimage. Trust is, always has been, always will be, the bond that
knits men with God.
And trust is blessed, because the very attitude of confident dependence
takes the strain off a man. To feel that I am leaning hard upon a firm
prop, to devolve responsibility, to put the reins into another's hand,
to give the helm into another steersman's grasp, whilst I may lie down
and rest, that is blessedness, though there be a storm. In the story of
frontier warfare we read how, day by day, the battalion that had been in
the post of danger, and therefore of honour, was withdrawn into the
centre; and another one was placed in the position that it had occupied.
So, when we trust we put Him in the front, and we march more quietly,
more blessedly, when we are in the centre, and He has to bear the brunt
of the assailing foe.
Christian people! have you got as far past the outsides of religion as
this Psalmist had? Do you recognise as clearly as he did that all this
outward worship, and a great deal of our theology, is but the
scaffolding; and that the real building lies inside of that; and that it
is of value only as being a means to an end? Church membership is all
very well; coming to church and chapel is all right; the outsides of
worship will be necessary as long as our souls have outsides--their
bodies. But you do not get into the house of the Lord unless you go in
through 'the door of faith,' which is opened to us all. The heart of the
religious life, which makes it blessed, is trust in God.
II. And now, secondly, a life of faith is a blessed life, because it
talks with God.
I have already said that my text is expanded in the preceding verses.
And I now turn to them to catch the various flashes of the diversely
coloured blessedness of this life. The first of them is that which I
have just mentioned. The Psalmist has described for us the happy
pilgrims passing from strength to strength, and in imagination has
landed them in the Temple. And then he goes on to tell us what they did
and found there.
The first thing that they did was to speak to Him who was in the Temple.
'Behold! O God our Shield! and look upon the face of Thine anointed.'
They had, as he has just said, 'Every one of them appeared before God in
Zion.' As they looked up to Him they asked Him to look down upon them.
'Behold! O God our Shield!' 'Shield' here is the designation of God
Himself, and is an exclamation addressed to Him--'Thou who art our God
and Shield, look down upon us!' And then comes a singular clause, about
which much might be said if time permitted: 'Look upon the face of Thine
anointed.' The use of that word 'anointed' seems to suggest that the
psalm is either the outpouring of a king, or that it is spoken by some
one in the train of a king, who feels that the favour bestowed upon the
king will be participated in by his followers. But whilst that, if it be
the explanation, might carry with it a hint as to the great truth of the
mediation of Jesus Christ, our true King, I pass that by altogether, and
fix upon the thought that here one element of the blessedness of the
life of faith lies in the desire that God should look upon us. For that
look means love, and that look secures protection and wise distribution
of gifts. And it is life to have His eye fixed upon me, and to be
conscious that He is looking at me. Dear brethren! if we want a lustre
to be diffused through all our days, depend upon it, the surest and the
only way to secure it is that that Face shall be felt to be turned
toward us, 'as the sun shineth in his strength'; and then all the
landscape will rejoice, and the birds will sing and the waters will
flash. 'Look upon me, and let me sun myself beneath Thine eye'--to have
that desire is blessed; and to feel that the desire is accomplished is
more blessed still.
Dear friends! it seems to me that the ordinary Christian life of this
day is terribly wanting in this experience of frank, free talk with God,
and that that is one reason why so many of us professing Christians know
so little of the blessedness of the man that trusts in God. You have
religion enough to keep you from doing certain gross acts of sin; you
have religion enough to make you uncomfortable in neglected duty. You
have religion enough to impel you to certain acts that you suppose to be
obligatory upon you. But do you know anything about the elasticity and
spring of spirit in getting near God, and pouring out all your hearts to
Him? The life of faith is not blessed unless it is a life of frank
speaking with God.
III. The life of faith is blessed, because it has fixed its desires on
the true good.
The Psalmist goes on--'A day in Thy courts is better than a thousand; I
had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the
tents of wickedness.' 'A day in Thy courts is better than a thousand.'
We all know how strangely elastic time is, and have sometimes been
amazed when we remembered what an infinity of joy or sorrow we had lived
through in one tick of the pendulum. When men are dreaming, they pass
through a long series of events in a moment's space. When we are truly
awake, we live long in a short time, for life is measured, not by the
length of its moments, but by the depth of its experiences. And when
some new truth is flashed upon us, or some new emotion has shaken us as
with an earthquake, or when some new blessing has burst into our lives,
then we know how 'one day' with men may be as it is with God, in a
deeper sense, 'as a thousand years,' so great is the change that it
works upon us. There is nothing that will so fill life to the utmost
bounds of its elastic capacity as strong trust in Him. There is nothing
that will make our lives so blessed. This Psalmist, speaking with the
voice of all them that trust in the Lord, here declares his clear
consciousness that the true good for the human soul is fellowship with
God.
But the clearest knowledge of that fact is not enough to bring the
blessedness. There must be the next step--'I had rather be a doorkeeper
in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness'--the
definite resolve that I, for my part, will act according to my
conviction, and believing that the best thing in life is to have God in
life, and that that will make life, as it were, an eternity of
blessedness even while it is made up of fleeting days, will put my foot
down and make my choice, and having made it, will stick to it. It is all
very well to say that 'A day in Thy courts is better than a thousand':
have I _chosen_ to dwell in the courts; and do I, not only in estimate
but in feeling and practice, set communion with God high above
everything besides?
This psalm, according to the superscription attached to it, is one 'for
the sons of Korah.' These sons of Korah were a branch of the Levitical
priesthood, to whose charge was committed the keeping of the gates of
the Temple, and hence this phrase is especially appropriate on their
lips. But passing that, let me just ask you to lay to heart, dear
friends! this one plain thought, that the effect of a real life of faith
will be to make us perfectly sure that the true good is in God, and
fixedly determined to pursue that. And you have no right to claim the
name of a believing Christian, unless your faith has purged your eyes,
so that you can see the hollowness of all besides, and has stiffened
your will so that you can determine that, for your part, 'the Lord is
the Strength of your heart, and your Portion for ever.' The secret of
blessedness lies here. 'Seek ye the Kingdom of God and all these things
shall be added unto you.'
IV. Lastly, a life of faith is a life of blessedness, because it draws
from God all necessary good.
I must not dwell, as I had hoped to do, upon the last words preceding my
text, 'The Lord God is a Sun and Shield'--brightness and defence--'the
Lord will give grace and glory': 'grace,' the loving gifts which will
make a man gracious and graceful; 'glory,' not any future lustre of the
transfigured soul and glorified body, but the glory which belongs to the
life of faith here on earth. Link that thought with the preceding one.
'The Lord is a Sun ... the Lord will give glory'; like a little bit of
broken glass lying in the furrows of a ploughed field, when the sun
smites down upon it, it flashes, outshining many a diamond. If a man is
walking upon a road with the sun behind him, his face is dark. He wheels
himself round, and it is suffused with light, as Moses' face shone. 'We
all, with unveiled faces beholding, are changed from glory to glory.' If
we walk in the sunshine we shall shine too. If we 'walk in the light' we
shall be 'light in the Lord.'
'No good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly.' Trust is
inward, and the outside of trust is an upright walk; and if a man has
these two, which, inasmuch as one is the root and the other is the
fruit, are but one in reality, nothing that is good will be withheld
from Him. For how can the sun but pour its rays upon everything that
lives? 'Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh
down from the Father of lights.' So the life is blessed that talks with
God; that has fixed its desires on Him as its Supreme Good; that is
irradiated by His light, glorified by the reflection of His brightness,
and ministered to with all necessary appliances by His loving
self-communication.
We come back to the old word, dear friends! 'Trust in the Lord, and do
good, and verily thou shalt be fed.' We come back to the old message
that nothing knits a man to God but faith with its child, righteousness.
If trusting we love, and loving we obey, then in converse with Him, in
fixed desires after Him, in daily and hourly reception from Him of
Himself and His gifts, the life of earth will be full of a blessedness
more real, more deep, more satisfying, more permanent, than can be found
anywhere besides.
Who was it that said, 'I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life; no man
cometh to the Father but by Me'? Tread that path, and you will come into
the house of the Lord, and will dwell there all the days of your life.
'Believe in God, believe also in Me.'
'THE BRIDAL OF THE EARTH AND SKY'
'Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have
kissed each other. 11. Truth shall spring out of the earth; and
righteousness shall look down from heaven. 12. Yea, the Lord shall
give that which is good; and our land shall yield her increase. 13.
Righteousness shall go before Him, and shall set us in the way of
His steps.'--PSALM lxxxv. 10-13.
This is a lovely and highly imaginative picture of the reconciliation
and reunion of God and man, 'the bridal of the earth and sky.'
The Poet-Psalmist, who seems to have belonged to the times immediately
after the return from the Exile, in strong faith sees before him a
vision of a perfectly harmonious co-operation and relation between God
and man. He is not prophesying directly of Messianic times. The vision
hangs before him, with no definite note of time upon it. He hopes it may
be fulfilled in his own day; he is sure it will, if only, as he says,
his countrymen 'turn not again to folly.' At all events, it will be
fulfilled in that far-off time to which the heart of every prophet
turned with longing. But, more than that, there is no reason why it
should not be fulfilled with every man, at any moment. It is the ideal,
to use modern language, of the relations between heaven and earth. Only
that the Psalmist believed that, as sure as there was a God in heaven,
who is likewise a God working in the midst of the earth, the ideal might
become, and would become, a reality.
So, then, I take it, these four verses all set forth substantially the
same thought, but with slightly different modifications and
applications. They are a four-fold picture of how heaven and earth ought
to blend and harmonise. This four-fold representation of the one thought
is what I purpose to consider now.
I. To begin with, then, take the first verse:--'Mercy and Truth are met
together, Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other.' We have here
_the heavenly twin-sisters, and the earthly pair that correspond_.
'Mercy and Truth are met together'--that is one personification;
'Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other' is another. It is
difficult to say whether these four great qualities are here regarded as
all belonging to God, or as all belonging to man, or as all common both
to God and man. The first explanation is the most familiar one, but I
confess that, looking at the context, where we find throughout an
interpenetration and play of reciprocal action as between earth and
heaven, I am disposed to think of the first pair as sisters from the
heavens, and the second pair as the earthly sisters that correspond to
them. Mercy and Truth--two radiant angels, like virgins in some solemn
choric dance, linked hand in hand, issue from the sanctuary and move
amongst the dim haunts of men making 'a sunshine in a shady place,' and
to them there come forth, linked in a sweet embrace, another pair,
Righteousness and Peace, whose lives depend on the lives of their elder
and heavenly sisters. And so these four, the pair of heavenly origin,
and the answering pair that have sprung into being at their coming upon
earth;--these four, banded in perfect accord, move together, blessing
and light-giving, amongst the sons of men. Mercy and Truth are the
divine--Righteousness and Peace the earthly.
Let me dwell upon these two couples briefly. 'Mercy and Truth are met
together' means this, that these two qualities are found braided and
linked inseparably in all that God does with mankind; that these two
springs are the double fountains from which the great stream of the
'river of the water of life,' the forthcoming and the manifestation of
God, takes its rise.
'Mercy and Truth.' What are the meanings of the two words? Mercy is love
that stoops, love that departs from the strict lines of desert and
retribution. Mercy is Love that is kind when Justice might make it
otherwise. Mercy is Love that condescends to that which is far beneath.
Thus the 'Mercy' of the Old Testament covers almost the same ground as
the 'Grace' of the New Testament. And Truth blends with Mercy; that is
to say--Truth in a somewhat narrower than its widest sense, meaning
mainly God's fidelity to every obligation under which He has come, God's
faithfulness to promise, God's fidelity to His past, God's fidelity, in
His actions, to His own character, which is meant by that great word,
'He sware by _Himself_!'
Thus the sentiment of mercy, the tender grace and gentleness of that
condescending love, has impressed upon it the seal of permanence when we
say: 'Grace and Truth, Mercy and Faithfulness, are met together.' No
longer is love mere sentiment, which may be capricious and may be
transient. We can reckon on it, we know the law of its being. The love
is lifted up above the suspicion of being arbitrary, or of ever changing
or fluctuating. We do not know all the limits of the orbit, but we know
enough to calculate it for all practical purposes. God has committed
Himself to us, He has limited Himself by the obligations of His own
past. We have a right to turn to Him, and say; 'Be what Thou art, and
continue to be to us what Thou hast been unto past ages,' and He
responds to the appeal. For Mercy and Truth, tender, gracious, stooping,
forgiving love, and inviolable faithfulness that can never be otherwise,
these blend in all His works, 'that by two immutable things, wherein it
was impossible for God to lie, we might have a strong consolation.'
Again, dear brethren! let me remind you that these two are the ideal
two, which as far as God's will and wish are concerned, are the only two
that would mark any of His dealings with men. When He is, if I may so
say, left free to do as He would, and is not forced to His 'strange act'
of punishment by my sin and yours, these, and these only, are the
characteristics of His dealings. Nor let us forget--'We beheld His
glory, the glory as of the Only Begotten of the Father, _full of grace
and truth_.' The Psalmist's vision was fulfilled in Jesus Christ, in
whom these sweet twin characteristics, that are linked inseparably in
all the works of God, are welded together into one in the living
personality of Him who is all the Father's grace embodied; and is 'the
Way and the Truth and the Life.'
Turn now to the other side of the first aspect of the union of God and
man, 'Mercy and Truth are met together'; these are the heavenly twins.
'Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other'--these are the earthly
sisters who sprang into being to meet them.
Of course I know that these words are very often applied, by way of
illustration, to the great work of Jesus Christ upon the Cross, which is
supposed to have reconciled, if not contradictory, at least divergently
working sides of the divine character and government. And we all know
how beautifully the phrase has often been employed by eloquent
preachers, and how beautifully it has been often illustrated by devout
painters.
But beautiful as the adaptation is, I think it is an adaptation, and not
the real meaning of the words, for this reason, if for no other, that
Righteousness and Peace are not in the Old Testament regarded as
opposites, but as harmonious and inseparable. And so I take it that here
we have distinctly the picture of what happens upon earth when Mercy and
Truth that come down from Heaven are accepted and recognised--then
Righteousness and Peace kiss each other.
Or, to put away the metaphor, here are two thoughts, first that in men's
experience and life Righteousness and Peace cannot be rent apart. The
only secret of tranquillity is to be good. He who is, first of all,
'King of Righteousness' is 'after that also King of Salem, which is King
of Peace.' 'The effect of righteousness shall be peace,' as Isaiah, the
brother in spirit of this Psalmist, says; and on the other hand, as the
same prophet says, 'The wicked is like a troubled sea that cannot rest,
whose waters cast up mire and dirt; there is no peace, saith my God, to
the wicked,' but where affections are pure, and the life is worthy,
where goodness is loved in the heart, and followed even imperfectly in
the daily practice, there the ocean is quiet, and 'birds of peace sit
brooding on the charmed wave.' The one secret of tranquillity is first
to trust in the Lord and then to do good. Righteousness and Peace kiss
each other.
The other thought here is that Righteousness and her twin sister, Peace,
only come in the measure in which the mercy and the truth of God are
received into thankful hearts. My brother! have you taken that Mercy and
that Truth into your soul, and are you trying to reach peace in the only
way by which any human being can ever reach it--through the path of
righteousness, self-suppression, and consecration to Him?
II. Now, take the next phase of this union and cooperation of earth and
heaven, which is given here in the 11th verse--'Truth shall spring out
of the earth, and Righteousness shall look down from heaven.' That is,
to put it into other words--God responding to man's truth.
Notice that in this verse one member from each of the two pairs that
have been spoken about in the previous verse is detached from its
companion, and they are joined so as to form for a moment a new pair.
Truth is taken from the first couple; Righteousness from the second, and
a third couple is thus formed.
And notice, further, that each takes the place that had belonged to the
other. The heavenly Truth becomes a child of earth; and the earthly
Righteousness ascends 'to look down from heaven.' The process of the
previous verse in effect is reversed. 'Truth shall spring out of the
earth, Righteousness shall look down from heaven'; that is to say--man's
Truth shall begin to grow and blossom in answer, as it were, to God's
Truth that came down upon it. Which being translated into other words is
this: where a man's heart has welcomed the Mercy and the Truth of God
there will spring up in that heart, not only the Righteousness and
Peace, of which the previous verse is speaking, but specifically a
faithfulness not all unlike the faithfulness which it grasps. If we have
a God immutable and unchangeable to build upon, let us build upon Him
immutability and unchangeableness. If we have a Rock on which to build
our confidence, let us see that the confidence which we build upon it is
rocklike too. If we have a God that cannot lie, let us grasp His
faithful word with an affiance that cannot falter. If we have a Truth in
the heavens, absolute and immutable, on which to anchor our hopes, let
us see to it that our hopes, anchored thereon, are sure and steadfast.
What a shame it would be that we should bring the vacillations and
fluctuations of our own insincerities and changeableness to the solemn,
fixed unalterableness of that divine Word! We ought to be faithful, for
we build upon a faithful God.
And then the other side of this second picture is 'Righteousness shall
look down from heaven,' not in its judicial aspect merely, but as the
perfect moral purity that belongs to the divine Nature, which shall bend
down a loving eye upon the men beneath, and mark the springings of any
imperfect good and thankfulness in our hearts; joyous as the husbandman
beholds the springing of his crops in the fields that he has sown.
God delights when He sees the first faint flush of green which marks the
springing of the good seed in the else barren hearts of men. No good, no
beauty of character, no meek rapture of faith, no aspiration Godwards is
ever wasted and lost, for His eye rests upon it. As heaven, with its
myriad stars, bends over the lowly earth, and in the midnight when no
human eye beholds, sees all, so God sees the hidden confidence, the
unseen 'Truth' that springs to meet His faithful Word. The flowers that
grow in the pastures of the wilderness, or away upon the wild prairies,
or that hide in the clefts of the inaccessible mountains, do not 'waste
their sweetness on the desert air,' for God sees them.
It may be an encouragement and quickening to us to remember that
wherever the tiniest little bit of Truth springs upon the earth, the
loving eye--not the eye of a great Taskmaster--but the eye of the
Brother, Christ, which is the eye of God, looks down. 'Wherefore we
labour, that whether present or absent, we may be well-pleasing unto
Him.'
III. And then the third aspect of this ideal relation between earth and
heaven, the converse of the one we have just now been speaking of, is
set forth in the next verse: 'Yea, the Lord shall give that which is
good and our land shall yield her increase.' That is to say, Man is here
responding to God's gift.
You see that the order of things is reversed in this verse, and that it
recurs to the order with which we originally started. 'The Lord shall
give that which is good.' In the figure that refers to all the skyey
influence of dew, rain, sunshine, passing breezes, and still ripening
autumn days; in the reality it refers to all the motives, powers,
impulses, helps, furtherances by which He makes it possible for us to
serve Him and love Him, and bring forth fruits of righteousness.
And so the thought which has already been hinted at is here more fully
developed and dwelt upon, this great truth that earthly fruitfulness is
possible only by the reception of heavenly gifts. As sure as every leaf
that grows is mainly water that the plant has got from the clouds, and
carbon that it has got out of the atmosphere, so surely will all our
good be mainly drawn from heaven and heaven's gifts. As certainly as
every lump of coal that you put upon your fire contains in itself
sunbeams that have been locked up for all these millenniums that have
passed since it waved green in the forest, so certainly does every good
deed embody in itself gifts from above. No man is pure except by
impartation; and every good gift and every perfect gift cometh from the
Father of Lights.
So let us learn the lesson of absolute dependence for all purity,
virtue, and righteousness on His bestowment, and come to Him and ask Him
ever more to fill our emptiness with His own gracious fulness and to
lead us to be what He commands and would have us to be.
And then there is the other lesson out of this phase of the ideal
relation between earth and heaven, the lesson of what we ought to do
with our gifts. 'The earth yields her increase,' by laying hold of the
good which the Lord gives, and by means of that received good quickening
all the germs. Ah, dear brethren! wasted opportunities, neglected
moments, uncultivated talents, gifts that are not stirred up, rain and
dew and sunshine, all poured upon us and no increase--is not that the
story of much of all our lives, and of the whole of some lives? Are we
like Eastern lands where the trees have been felled, and the great
irrigation works and tanks have been allowed to fall into disrepair, and
so when the bountiful treasure of the rains comes, all that it does is
to swell for half a day the discoloured stream that carries away some
more of the arable land; and when the sunshine comes, with its swift,
warm powers, all that it does is to bleach the stones and scorch the
barren sand? 'The earth which _drinketh in the rain_ that cometh oft
upon it, and yieldeth herbs meet for them by whom it is dressed,
receiveth the blessing of God.' Is it true about you that the earth
yieldeth her increase, as it is certainly true that 'the Lord giveth
that which is good'?
IV. And now the last thing which is here, the last phase of the fourfold
representation of the ideal relation between earth and heaven is,
'Righteousness shall go before Him and shall set us in the way of His
steps.' That is to say, God teaches man to walk in His footsteps.
There is some difficulty about the meaning of the last clause of this
verse, but I think that having regard to the whole context and to that
idea of the interpenetration of the heavenly with the human which we
have seen running through it, the reading in our English Bible gives
substantially, though somewhat freely, the meaning. The clause might
literally be rendered 'make His footsteps for a way,' which comes to
substantially the same thing as is expressed in our English Bible.
Righteousness, God's moral perfectness, is set forth here in a twofold
phase. First it is a herald going before Him and preparing His path. The
Psalmist in these words draws tighter than ever the bond between God and
man. It is not only that God sends His messengers to the world, nor only
that His loving eye looks down upon it, nor only 'that He gives that
which is good'; but it is that the whole heaven, as it were, lowers
itself to touch earth, that God comes down to dwell and walk among men.
The Psalmist's mind is filled with the thought of a present God who
moves amongst mankind, and has His 'footsteps' on earth. This herald
Righteousness prepares God's path, which is just to say that all His
dealings with mankind--which, as we have seen, have Mercy and
Faithfulness for their signature and stamp--are rooted and based in
perfect Rectitude.
The second phase of the operation of Righteousness is that that majestic
herald, the divine purity which moves before Him, and 'prepares in the
desert a highway for the Lord,'--that that very same Righteousness comes
and takes my feeble hand, and will lead my tottering footsteps into
God's path, and teach me to walk, planting my little foot where He
planted His. The highest of all thoughts of the ideal relation between
earth and heaven, that of likeness between God and man, is trembling on
the Psalmist's lips. Men may walk in God's ways--not only in ways that
please Him, but in ways that are like His. 'Be ye therefore perfect,
even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.'
And the likeness can only be a likeness in moral qualities--a likeness
in goodness, a likeness in purity, a likeness in aversion from evil, for
His other attributes and characteristics are His peculiar property; and
no human brow can wear the crown that He wears. But though His mercy can
but, from afar off, be copied by us, the righteousness that moves before
Him, and engineers God's path through the wilderness of the world, will
come behind Him and nurselike lay hold of our feeble arms and teach us
to go in the way God would have us to walk.
Ah, brethren! that is the crown and climax of the harmony between God
and man, that His mercy and His truth, His gifts and His grace have all
led us up to this: that we take His righteousness as our pattern, and
try in our poor lives to reproduce its wondrous beauty. Do not forget
that a great deal more than the Psalmist dreamed of, you Christian men
and women possess, in the Christ 'who of God is made unto us
Righteousness,' in whom heaven and earth are joined for ever, in whom
man and God are knit in strictest bonds of indissoluble friendship; and
who, having prepared a path for God in His mighty mission and by His
sacrifice on the Cross, comes to us, and as the Incarnate Righteousness,
will lead us in the paths of God, leaving us an Example, that 'we should
follow in His steps.'