I observed that it seems to cut in two the stream of promised blessings,
and that fact is significant. The psalm begins with the deep truth that
'He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under
the shadow of the Almighty.' Then a single voice speaks, 'I will say of
the Lord, He is my Refuge and my Fortress, my God, in Him will I trust.'
Then that voice, which thus responds to the general statement of the
first verse, is answered by a stream of promises. The first part of our
text comes in as the second speech of the same voice, repeating
substantially the same thing as it said at first.
Now, notice that this cry of the soul, recognising God as its Asylum and
Home, comes in response to a revelation of God's blessing, and to large
words of promise. There is no true refuge nor any peace and rest for a
man unless in grasping the articulate word of God, and building his
assurance upon that. Anything else is not confidence, but folly;
anything else is building upon sand, and not upon the Rock. If I trust
my own or my brother's conception of the divine nature, if I build upon
any thoughts of my own, I am building upon what will yield and give. For
all peaceful casting of my soul into the arms of God there must be,
first, a plain stretching out of the hands of God to catch me when I
drop. So the words of my text, 'Thou art my Refuge,' are the best answer
of the devout soul to the plain words of divine promise. How abundant
these are we all know, how full of manifold insight and adaptation to
our circumstances and our nature we may all experience, if we care to
prove them.
But let us be sure that we _are_ hearkening to the voice with which He
speaks through our daily circumstances as well as by the unmistakable
revelation of His will and heart in Jesus Christ. And then let us be
sure that no word of His, that comes fluttering down from the heavens,
meaning a benediction and enclosing a promise, falls at our feet
ungathered and unregarded, or is trodden into the dust by our careless
heels. The manna lies all about us; let us see that we gather it. 'When
Thou saidst, Seek ye My Face, my heart said unto Thee, Thy Face, Lord,
will I seek.' When Thou saidst, 'I will be thy Strength and thy
Righteousness,' have I said, 'Surely, O Jehovah! Thou art my Refuge'?
Turn His promises into your creed, and whatever He has declared in the
sweet thunder of His voice, loud as the voice of many waters, and
melodious as 'harpers harping with their harps,' do you take for your
profession of faith in the faithful promises of your God.
Still further, this cry of the devout soul suggests to me that our
response ought to be the establishment of a close personal relation
between us and God. 'Thou, O Lord! art my Refuge.' The Psalmist did not
content himself with saying 'Lord! Thou hast been _our_ Dwelling-place
in all generations,' or as one of the other psalmists has it, 'God is
_our_ Refuge and _our_ Strength.' That thought was blessed, but it was
not enough for the Psalmist's present need, and it is never enough for
the deepest necessities of any soul. We must isolate ourselves and
stand, God and we, alone together--at heart-grips--we grasping His hand,
and He giving Himself to us--if the promises which are sent down into
the world for all who will make them theirs can become ours. They are
made payable to your order; you must put your name on the back before
you get the proceeds. There must be what our good old Puritan
forefathers used to call, in somewhat hard language, 'the appropriating
act of faith,' in order that God's richest blessings may be of any use
to us. Put out your hand to grasp them, and say, 'Mine,' not 'Ours.' The
thought of others as sharing in them will come afterwards, for he who
has once realised the absolute isolation of the soul and has been alone
with God, and in solitude has taken God's gifts as his very own, is he
who will feel fellowship and brotherhood with all who are partakers of
like precious faith and blessings. The 'ours' will come; but you must
begin with the 'mine'--'_my_ Lord and _my_ God.' 'He loved _me_, and
gave Himself for _me_.'
Just as when the Israelites gathered on the banks of the Red Sea, and
Miriam and the maidens came out with songs and timbrels, though their
hearts throbbed with joy, and music rang from their lips for national
deliverance, their hymn made the whole deliverance the property of each,
and each of the chorus sang, 'The Lord is my Strength and my Song, He
also is become my Salvation,' so we must individualise the common
blessing. Every poor soul has a right to the whole of God, and unless a
man claims all the divine nature as his, he has little chance of
possessing the promised blessings. The response of the individual to the
worldwide promises and revelations of the Father is, 'Thou, O Lord! art
my Refuge.'
Further, note how this cry of the devout soul recognises God as He to
whom we must go because we need a refuge. The word 'refuge' here gives
the picture of some stronghold, or fortified place, in which men may
find security from all sorts of dangers, invasions by surrounding foes,
storm and tempest, rising flood, or anything else that threatens. Only
he who knows himself to be in danger bethinks himself of a refuge. It is
only when we know our danger and defencelessness that God, as the Refuge
of our souls, becomes precious to us. So, underlying, and an essential
part of, all our confidence in God, is the clear recognition of our own
necessity. The sense of our own emptiness must precede our grasp of His
fulness. The conviction of our own insufficiency and sinfulness must
precede our casting ourselves on His mercy and righteousness. In all
regions the consciousness of human want must go before the recognition
of the divine supply.