"Ah, if our souls but poise and swing,Like the compass in its brazen ring,Ever level and ever true,To the toil and the task we have to do;We shall sail securely, and safely reachThe heavenly Isle, on whose shining beachThe sights we love and the sounds we hearWill be those of joy, and not of fear.""David utters again strains of hope; not that faint and common hope of possibility or probability, that after stormy days it may be better with him, but a certain hope that shall never make ashamed; such a Hope as springs from Faith, yea, in effect, is one with it.... Faith rests upon the goodness and truth of Him that hath promised; and Hope, raising itself upon Faith so established, stands up, and looks out to the future accomplishment of the promise."—Leighton."In that day, the light shall not be clear nor dark: ... but it shall come to pass that at evening time it shall be light."—Zech.xiv. 6, 7."Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God."—Verse 11.XII.THE QUIET HAVEN.We have now reached the close of this instructive Psalm—the last entry in the experience of the Royal Exile. Here is the grand summing up—"the conclusion of the whole matter." The curtain falls over the scene of conflict, leaving the believer triumphant. As he began with prayer, he now ends with praise; as he began with weeping, he now ends with rejoicing; as he began mourning over the loss of his God, he ends exulting in Him as "the health of his countenance." We are reminded of the Great Apostle reaching, by successive steps in his high argument, new altitudes of faith and hope,—beginning with "no condemnation," till he ends with "no separation,"—mounting with loftier sweep and bolder pinion, till, far above the mists and clouds of the lower valley, he can utter the challenge, "Who shall separate me from the love of Christ?"[98]Joyful is it when a protracted war, which hasbeen draining a nation's resources and rifling its homes, is drawing to a close,—when an army, amid hostile tribes, and the more fatal ravages of a hostile climate, has succeeded in trampling out the ashes of rebellion, and is returning triumphant from hard-contested fields of valour. Joyful is it when a noble vessel, that has for long been wrestling with the storm, enters at last the desired haven,—when the voyagers, who for hours of anxiety and terror have been hanging with bated breath between life and death, can now pass the gladdening watchword from mouth to mouth—"Thank God, we are safe!" Joyful, too, when the tried believer, as described in this Psalm,—"persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed,"—has surmounted wave after wave, that has been threatening to sweep him from his footing on the Rock, and is made "more than conqueror through Him that loved him!" The wounded Hart we found in the opening verse bounding through the forest glades, hit by the archers, with glazed eye and panting sides, has now reached the coveted Water-brooks;—the fainting soul is now drinking at the great fountainhead of consolation and joy. We have elsewherean appropriate inspired comment on the whole Psalm, with its successive experiences: "Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the Lord delivereth him out of them all."[99]This concluding verse is so far a repetition of the fifth; and yet, as we cursorily noted in the introductory chapter, there is an important difference between them, to which we may again for a moment advert. In the former, it is on the part of the speaker the language of faith in the midst of despondency, expressing assurance that somethingwillbe his, which he has not yet attained: "Hope thou in God; for I shallYETpraise Him for the help of His countenance." In the latter, he summons his soul to the exercise of the same hope and confidence; but he now can exult in the realised possession of God's favour and love—"Who isthe health of my countenance." Nay, more, in the fifth verse he stops with the words, "my countenance;" but in the closing verse, he adds the expression of appropriating faith and triumphant assurance. It is the Key-stone of the arch. Two little words, which, like the ciphers following the unit, give anaugmented value to all that goes before!—"My God!" The two last divine expedients to which he had resorted (faith and prayer) have not been in vain. They have loaded the cloud of mercy, and it bursts upon the suppliant in a shower of blessing!The 22d Psalm has been referred by commentators to this same period of exile among the mountains of Gilead. There is much to confirm this supposition in the general tone of the Psalm, as well as in its incidental references. There is the same deep, anguished depression of spirit,—words, indeed, denoting such an intensity of sorrow, that, though primarily applicable to David, we must look for their true exponent in the case of a Greater Sufferer. The challenge, "Where is thy God?" of the 42d, seems echoed back in the 22d by the mournful appeal, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?"But in the latter, as in the former, (ere it closes,) light breaks through the thick darkness. By a similar exercise of faith and prayer, the Royal Mourner triumphs. "Deliver my soul," says he, "from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog. Save me from the lion's mouth." (Ver. 20,21.) The prayer is heard while he is yet speaking! At this point of the Psalm, the language all at once passes from complaint into exultation—from prayer into praise; and the voice of victory rises higher and higher, till it reaches the close. God has taken off his sackcloth, and girded him with gladness. He already anticipates the happy time when again he shall be the leader of the festal throng on the heights of Zion. "Thou hast heard me," is his opening burst of triumph, "from the horns of the unicorns. I will declare Thy name unto my brethren: in the midst of the congregation will I praise Thee.... My praise shall be of Thee in the great congregation: I will pay my vows before them that fear Him."[100]Nay, further; what Psalm succeeds the 22d? Is it mere accidental arrangement which has given the beautiful 23d (the best known and loved of all David's Psalms) the immediate sequence? Is it a mere devout imagination which leads us to regard it (from the place it occupies in the Psalter) as the next his hand penned and his lips sung, after these plaintive elegies? This Song of the chosen flockis not, as many think, the Psalm of his boyhood, written in the days of his innocence, with his shepherd's crook and harp, in the Valleys of Bethlehem. The imagery of the Psalmmayindeed have been taken from this sunny season of his youth. But, as it has been suggested,[101]the emblem may as likely have been borrowed from seeing a flock of sheep in these grassy regions reposing by "green pastures" and "still waters"—or, at other times, wending their way out of some "dark valley;"—one, perhaps a timid wanderer, clenched in the arms of the shepherd, on his way with it back to the fold!We have witnessed, after a day of gloomy fog and rain and thunder, the dense curtain that overhung the landscape rolling away.—The clouds break, gleaming vistas appear through their golden linings; and the rays of the long-imprisoned sun shine down upon ten thousand sparkling pearls on grass and flower. The choristers of wood and grove had till then been silent; but now are they seen brushing the rain-drops from the branches, and filling the air with their music, and allnature is glad again. So it is with the Great Singer of Israel; so long as God's face is withdrawn, his wings are folded—his melody hushed—his harp unstrung. But when the thunder-cloud has passed,—when, as the clear shining after rain, the longed-for countenance again breaks forth,—when, in answer to those prayers that were mightier than the armies of Joab close by, his enemies are dispersed, and the way again open to a peaceful return to his capital,—may we not imagine the triumphant conqueror—strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might—making the Gilead valleys resound with the hymn of praise?—"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters!"[102]As he thought of all the trying discipline to which he had been subjected to test his faith, drive him to prayer, and lead him to thirst more ardently for "the living God," he could say in the retrospect, what he was unable to do at the time—"He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake."[103]That pathwas a rugged one—that trial a severe one—when he was found setting out barefoot, and dim with tears, across Mount Olivet, compelled to take refuge beyond Jordan amid the wilds of Bashan. But he acknowledges now that these were "paths of righteousness." They were well and wisely ordered,—the hand of his God had appointed them. He can repeat with greater assurance his forbearing retort to the curses of Shimei—"Let him curse on, for the Lord hath bidden him." Moreover, all this wilderness-experience not only sustained him in the present—it nerved him for the future. God's renewed faithfulness in this trying hour was a pledge for all time to come. He had added another Mizar-hill to former memorials of the Divine goodness. With the prospect, at his advanced age, of the last and terminating trial of his pilgrimage, (the descent to the deepest and gloomiest ravine of all,) he could, with his eye on the guiding Shepherd, exclaim—"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me."[104]Even temporalmercies had been largely and bountifully supplied him in the place of his exile. The powerful chiefs of the Transjordanic tribes, as we previously observed,—"Shobi of Ammon, and Machir, and Barzillai of Manasseh,"—brought the rich produce of their fields and pastures for the supply of himself and his army. He could say—"Thou hast prepared a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."[105]And now, with the prospect before him of a joyful return to his throne, and the still more joyous prospect of being a worshipper in God's house on earth,—the type of the better Temple in the skies,—he can sing, as the closing strain of his exile—"Goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."[106]Reader! is this your experience? Is this the result of your temporal afflictions, the end of your spiritual conflicts,—to lead you to the same Shepherd of Israel, and to exult in Him as "the health of your countenance, and your God?" Elimelech, of old, was compelled by famine to leave Bethlehem,but his name signified, "My God is King!" When we are pressed with straits, and troubles, and perplexities, letusmake that name our strong tower! "My God is King" is a glorious motto. Is it the heavings and convulsions of the world's nations—"kings of the earth setting themselves, and rulers taking counsel together," from motives of personal ambition, or political jealousy, or lust of conquest? Write upon all their schemes,Elimelech—"My God is King!" Is it the apparently mysterious discipline through which some may be passing—bereavements threatening your dwelling, or the hand of death already on your loved ones? Write on the darkened threshold,Elimelech—"My God is King!" Is it the prospect of your own death that is filling you with apprehension? Remember in whose hands, under whose sovereign control, that messenger is. Go to the vacant Sepulchre at Golgotha, and read that writing and superscription which the "Abolisher of death" has left for the comfort of all His people:—"I have the keys of the grave and of death." Christian! even here, in these gloomy regions, "thy God is King!"How blessed thus to be able, both in temporaland spiritual things, to lie in the arms of His mercy, saying, "Undertake Thou for us!"—to feel that every thread in the web of life is woven by the Great Artificer,—that not one movement in these swiftly-darting shuttles is chance; but all is byHisdirection, and all is to result in good! In having Himself as our portion, we are independent of every other;—we have the pledge of all other blessings. "Let the moveables go, the inheritance is ours!" Let the streams fail, we have the inexhaustible fountain! "Drop millions of gold," says good Bishop Hopkins, "boundless revenues, ample territories, crowns and sceptres, and a poor contemptible worm lays hisOne Godagainst them all."[107]"Ourall," says Lady Powerscourt, "is but two mites (soul and body).Hisall—Heaven, Earth, Eternity, Himself." We have said in a previous chapter that the loftiest archangel can tell of no mightier prerogative than looking up to the Great Being before whom he casts his crown, and saying, "My God!"Wecan utter them in asense higher than he. He isOURGodin Christ. The words to us are written (which to the unredeemed angels they are not) in the blood of atonement! Imagine, for a moment, a conversation between a bright angel in heaven and a ransomed sinner from earth. The angel can point to a past eternity; he can tell of a glorious pedigree; he can point up to his Almighty Maker, and say, "He has beenmy Godfor ages and ages past. I have been kept, supported, gladdened by His amazing mercy, long before the birth of time or your world!" "True," we may imagine the redeemed and glorified sinner to reply,—"but I can tell of something more wondrous still. He ismy God in covenant! Thou art His bycreation, but I am His also byadoption,filiation,sonship. Though grace has kept thee through these countless ages, during which thou hast cast thy crown at His feet, what is the grace manifested tothee, in comparison with the grace manifested tome? Grace made thee holy, and kept thee holy; but grace found me on the brink of despair, plucked me as a brand from the burning, brought me from the depths of woe and degradation, to a throne and acrown!ThyGod hath loved thee.MyGod hath 'lovedme' andgiven Himselffor me!"And now we close our meditations on this beautiful and instructive Psalm:—a Psalm which, even since we have begun to write on it, we have seen clung to as a treasured solace in hours of sickness;—its sublime utterances soothing the departing soul, just as it was pluming its wings for flight to the spirit-world! Reader! in any future dark and troubled passages in your life, you may well with comfort turn to thisdiaryof an old and tried saint, remembering that it records the experiences of "the man after God's own heart." Tracinghisfootsteps and tear-drops along "the sands of time," you shall cease to "think it strange concerning the fiery trials that may be trying you, as though some strange thing happened." You will find that "the same afflictions are accomplished in you," which have been "accomplished" in the case of God's most favoured servants in every age of the Church. Do not expect now theunclouded day. That is not for earth, but for heaven. God indeed, had He seen meet, might have ordained that your pathwaywas to be without cloud or darkness, trial or tear;—no poisoned darts, no taunts, no contumely, no cross, no "deep calling to deep,"—nothing but calm seas unfretted by a ripple, sunny slopes and verdant valleys, and bright Mizar-hills of love and faithfulness! But to keep you humble,—to teach you your dependence on Himself,—to make your present existence a state of discipline and probation, He has ordered it otherwise. Your journey as travellers is through mist and cloud-land;—your voyage as seamen through alternate calm and storm.[108]And much of that discipline, too, is mysterious. You cannot discern its "why" and "wherefore." To employ a former symbol, you are now like the vessel building in the dock-yard. The unskilled and uninitiated canhearnothing but clanging hammers;—they can see nothing but unshapely timbers and glare of torches. It is a scene of din and noise, dust and confusion. But all will at last be acknowledged as needed portions in thespiritual workmanship;—when the soul, released from its earthly fastenings, is launched on the summer seas of eternity—"Give to the winds thy fears,Hope and be undismay'd.God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears,God shall lift up thy head:Through waves, and clouds, and storms,He gently clears the way;Wait thou His time—so shall this nightSoon end in joyous day."[109]Above all, let this Psalm teach you that yourspiritualinterests are in safe keeping. No wounded Hart seeking the water-brooks ever sought them in vain. When drooping, downcast, disconsolate yourself, remember "God is faithful." "He cannot deny Himself." "He satisfieth the longing soul with goodness." None is "able to pluck you out of His hand." There may be fluctuations—ebbings and flowings—in the tides of the soul; but "He that hath begun a good work in you, will carry it on until the day of the Lord Jesus." You may reachthe heavenly fold with bleating cries,—with torn fleece and bleeding feet;—but youwillreach it, if you have learned to sing, "The Lord is my shepherd!" You may reach the water-brooks with languid eye and panting sides;—but youwillreach them, if you can truthfully say, "My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God!" You may begin your song in the minor-key, but if "My God" be its key-note, you will finish it with the angels and among ministering seraphim!Go then, Christians! and, as you see whatFaith, andHope, andPrayerdid for the Exile of Gilead, try what they can andwilldo foryou. With all your varied trials, with all your manifold sorrowful experiences, who, after all (this Psalm seems to say) so favoured asyou? Who possess your present exalted privileges?—who your elevating hopes?—the consciousness, even in your trials, that each billow is wafting you nearer the haven of eternal rest? "These see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. For He commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is meltedbecause of trouble. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and He bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet;so He bringeth them unto their desired haven!""Soul, then know thy full salvation,Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care,Joy to find in every stationSomething still to do or bear.Think what Spirit dwells within thee,Think what Father's smiles are thine,Think that Jesus died to save thee—Child of heaven! canst thou repine?"Haste thee on from grace to glory—Arm'd byFaithand wing'd byPrayer;Heaven's eternal days before thee,God's own hand shall guide thee there!Soon shall close thy earthly mission,Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days;Hopeshall change to glad fruition,Faithto sight, andPrayerto praise!"
"Ah, if our souls but poise and swing,Like the compass in its brazen ring,Ever level and ever true,To the toil and the task we have to do;We shall sail securely, and safely reachThe heavenly Isle, on whose shining beachThe sights we love and the sounds we hearWill be those of joy, and not of fear."
"Ah, if our souls but poise and swing,Like the compass in its brazen ring,Ever level and ever true,To the toil and the task we have to do;We shall sail securely, and safely reachThe heavenly Isle, on whose shining beachThe sights we love and the sounds we hearWill be those of joy, and not of fear."
"Ah, if our souls but poise and swing,
Like the compass in its brazen ring,
Ever level and ever true,
To the toil and the task we have to do;
We shall sail securely, and safely reach
The heavenly Isle, on whose shining beach
The sights we love and the sounds we hear
Will be those of joy, and not of fear."
"David utters again strains of hope; not that faint and common hope of possibility or probability, that after stormy days it may be better with him, but a certain hope that shall never make ashamed; such a Hope as springs from Faith, yea, in effect, is one with it.... Faith rests upon the goodness and truth of Him that hath promised; and Hope, raising itself upon Faith so established, stands up, and looks out to the future accomplishment of the promise."—Leighton."In that day, the light shall not be clear nor dark: ... but it shall come to pass that at evening time it shall be light."—Zech.xiv. 6, 7."Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God."—Verse 11.
"David utters again strains of hope; not that faint and common hope of possibility or probability, that after stormy days it may be better with him, but a certain hope that shall never make ashamed; such a Hope as springs from Faith, yea, in effect, is one with it.... Faith rests upon the goodness and truth of Him that hath promised; and Hope, raising itself upon Faith so established, stands up, and looks out to the future accomplishment of the promise."—Leighton.
"In that day, the light shall not be clear nor dark: ... but it shall come to pass that at evening time it shall be light."—Zech.xiv. 6, 7.
"Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God."—Verse 11.
We have now reached the close of this instructive Psalm—the last entry in the experience of the Royal Exile. Here is the grand summing up—"the conclusion of the whole matter." The curtain falls over the scene of conflict, leaving the believer triumphant. As he began with prayer, he now ends with praise; as he began with weeping, he now ends with rejoicing; as he began mourning over the loss of his God, he ends exulting in Him as "the health of his countenance." We are reminded of the Great Apostle reaching, by successive steps in his high argument, new altitudes of faith and hope,—beginning with "no condemnation," till he ends with "no separation,"—mounting with loftier sweep and bolder pinion, till, far above the mists and clouds of the lower valley, he can utter the challenge, "Who shall separate me from the love of Christ?"[98]
Joyful is it when a protracted war, which hasbeen draining a nation's resources and rifling its homes, is drawing to a close,—when an army, amid hostile tribes, and the more fatal ravages of a hostile climate, has succeeded in trampling out the ashes of rebellion, and is returning triumphant from hard-contested fields of valour. Joyful is it when a noble vessel, that has for long been wrestling with the storm, enters at last the desired haven,—when the voyagers, who for hours of anxiety and terror have been hanging with bated breath between life and death, can now pass the gladdening watchword from mouth to mouth—"Thank God, we are safe!" Joyful, too, when the tried believer, as described in this Psalm,—"persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed,"—has surmounted wave after wave, that has been threatening to sweep him from his footing on the Rock, and is made "more than conqueror through Him that loved him!" The wounded Hart we found in the opening verse bounding through the forest glades, hit by the archers, with glazed eye and panting sides, has now reached the coveted Water-brooks;—the fainting soul is now drinking at the great fountainhead of consolation and joy. We have elsewherean appropriate inspired comment on the whole Psalm, with its successive experiences: "Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the Lord delivereth him out of them all."[99]
This concluding verse is so far a repetition of the fifth; and yet, as we cursorily noted in the introductory chapter, there is an important difference between them, to which we may again for a moment advert. In the former, it is on the part of the speaker the language of faith in the midst of despondency, expressing assurance that somethingwillbe his, which he has not yet attained: "Hope thou in God; for I shallYETpraise Him for the help of His countenance." In the latter, he summons his soul to the exercise of the same hope and confidence; but he now can exult in the realised possession of God's favour and love—"Who isthe health of my countenance." Nay, more, in the fifth verse he stops with the words, "my countenance;" but in the closing verse, he adds the expression of appropriating faith and triumphant assurance. It is the Key-stone of the arch. Two little words, which, like the ciphers following the unit, give anaugmented value to all that goes before!—"My God!" The two last divine expedients to which he had resorted (faith and prayer) have not been in vain. They have loaded the cloud of mercy, and it bursts upon the suppliant in a shower of blessing!
The 22d Psalm has been referred by commentators to this same period of exile among the mountains of Gilead. There is much to confirm this supposition in the general tone of the Psalm, as well as in its incidental references. There is the same deep, anguished depression of spirit,—words, indeed, denoting such an intensity of sorrow, that, though primarily applicable to David, we must look for their true exponent in the case of a Greater Sufferer. The challenge, "Where is thy God?" of the 42d, seems echoed back in the 22d by the mournful appeal, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?"
But in the latter, as in the former, (ere it closes,) light breaks through the thick darkness. By a similar exercise of faith and prayer, the Royal Mourner triumphs. "Deliver my soul," says he, "from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog. Save me from the lion's mouth." (Ver. 20,21.) The prayer is heard while he is yet speaking! At this point of the Psalm, the language all at once passes from complaint into exultation—from prayer into praise; and the voice of victory rises higher and higher, till it reaches the close. God has taken off his sackcloth, and girded him with gladness. He already anticipates the happy time when again he shall be the leader of the festal throng on the heights of Zion. "Thou hast heard me," is his opening burst of triumph, "from the horns of the unicorns. I will declare Thy name unto my brethren: in the midst of the congregation will I praise Thee.... My praise shall be of Thee in the great congregation: I will pay my vows before them that fear Him."[100]
Nay, further; what Psalm succeeds the 22d? Is it mere accidental arrangement which has given the beautiful 23d (the best known and loved of all David's Psalms) the immediate sequence? Is it a mere devout imagination which leads us to regard it (from the place it occupies in the Psalter) as the next his hand penned and his lips sung, after these plaintive elegies? This Song of the chosen flockis not, as many think, the Psalm of his boyhood, written in the days of his innocence, with his shepherd's crook and harp, in the Valleys of Bethlehem. The imagery of the Psalmmayindeed have been taken from this sunny season of his youth. But, as it has been suggested,[101]the emblem may as likely have been borrowed from seeing a flock of sheep in these grassy regions reposing by "green pastures" and "still waters"—or, at other times, wending their way out of some "dark valley;"—one, perhaps a timid wanderer, clenched in the arms of the shepherd, on his way with it back to the fold!
We have witnessed, after a day of gloomy fog and rain and thunder, the dense curtain that overhung the landscape rolling away.—The clouds break, gleaming vistas appear through their golden linings; and the rays of the long-imprisoned sun shine down upon ten thousand sparkling pearls on grass and flower. The choristers of wood and grove had till then been silent; but now are they seen brushing the rain-drops from the branches, and filling the air with their music, and allnature is glad again. So it is with the Great Singer of Israel; so long as God's face is withdrawn, his wings are folded—his melody hushed—his harp unstrung. But when the thunder-cloud has passed,—when, as the clear shining after rain, the longed-for countenance again breaks forth,—when, in answer to those prayers that were mightier than the armies of Joab close by, his enemies are dispersed, and the way again open to a peaceful return to his capital,—may we not imagine the triumphant conqueror—strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might—making the Gilead valleys resound with the hymn of praise?—"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters!"[102]As he thought of all the trying discipline to which he had been subjected to test his faith, drive him to prayer, and lead him to thirst more ardently for "the living God," he could say in the retrospect, what he was unable to do at the time—"He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake."[103]That pathwas a rugged one—that trial a severe one—when he was found setting out barefoot, and dim with tears, across Mount Olivet, compelled to take refuge beyond Jordan amid the wilds of Bashan. But he acknowledges now that these were "paths of righteousness." They were well and wisely ordered,—the hand of his God had appointed them. He can repeat with greater assurance his forbearing retort to the curses of Shimei—"Let him curse on, for the Lord hath bidden him." Moreover, all this wilderness-experience not only sustained him in the present—it nerved him for the future. God's renewed faithfulness in this trying hour was a pledge for all time to come. He had added another Mizar-hill to former memorials of the Divine goodness. With the prospect, at his advanced age, of the last and terminating trial of his pilgrimage, (the descent to the deepest and gloomiest ravine of all,) he could, with his eye on the guiding Shepherd, exclaim—"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me."[104]Even temporalmercies had been largely and bountifully supplied him in the place of his exile. The powerful chiefs of the Transjordanic tribes, as we previously observed,—"Shobi of Ammon, and Machir, and Barzillai of Manasseh,"—brought the rich produce of their fields and pastures for the supply of himself and his army. He could say—"Thou hast prepared a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."[105]And now, with the prospect before him of a joyful return to his throne, and the still more joyous prospect of being a worshipper in God's house on earth,—the type of the better Temple in the skies,—he can sing, as the closing strain of his exile—"Goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."[106]
Reader! is this your experience? Is this the result of your temporal afflictions, the end of your spiritual conflicts,—to lead you to the same Shepherd of Israel, and to exult in Him as "the health of your countenance, and your God?" Elimelech, of old, was compelled by famine to leave Bethlehem,but his name signified, "My God is King!" When we are pressed with straits, and troubles, and perplexities, letusmake that name our strong tower! "My God is King" is a glorious motto. Is it the heavings and convulsions of the world's nations—"kings of the earth setting themselves, and rulers taking counsel together," from motives of personal ambition, or political jealousy, or lust of conquest? Write upon all their schemes,Elimelech—"My God is King!" Is it the apparently mysterious discipline through which some may be passing—bereavements threatening your dwelling, or the hand of death already on your loved ones? Write on the darkened threshold,Elimelech—"My God is King!" Is it the prospect of your own death that is filling you with apprehension? Remember in whose hands, under whose sovereign control, that messenger is. Go to the vacant Sepulchre at Golgotha, and read that writing and superscription which the "Abolisher of death" has left for the comfort of all His people:—"I have the keys of the grave and of death." Christian! even here, in these gloomy regions, "thy God is King!"
How blessed thus to be able, both in temporaland spiritual things, to lie in the arms of His mercy, saying, "Undertake Thou for us!"—to feel that every thread in the web of life is woven by the Great Artificer,—that not one movement in these swiftly-darting shuttles is chance; but all is byHisdirection, and all is to result in good! In having Himself as our portion, we are independent of every other;—we have the pledge of all other blessings. "Let the moveables go, the inheritance is ours!" Let the streams fail, we have the inexhaustible fountain! "Drop millions of gold," says good Bishop Hopkins, "boundless revenues, ample territories, crowns and sceptres, and a poor contemptible worm lays hisOne Godagainst them all."[107]"Ourall," says Lady Powerscourt, "is but two mites (soul and body).Hisall—Heaven, Earth, Eternity, Himself." We have said in a previous chapter that the loftiest archangel can tell of no mightier prerogative than looking up to the Great Being before whom he casts his crown, and saying, "My God!"Wecan utter them in asense higher than he. He isOURGodin Christ. The words to us are written (which to the unredeemed angels they are not) in the blood of atonement! Imagine, for a moment, a conversation between a bright angel in heaven and a ransomed sinner from earth. The angel can point to a past eternity; he can tell of a glorious pedigree; he can point up to his Almighty Maker, and say, "He has beenmy Godfor ages and ages past. I have been kept, supported, gladdened by His amazing mercy, long before the birth of time or your world!" "True," we may imagine the redeemed and glorified sinner to reply,—"but I can tell of something more wondrous still. He ismy God in covenant! Thou art His bycreation, but I am His also byadoption,filiation,sonship. Though grace has kept thee through these countless ages, during which thou hast cast thy crown at His feet, what is the grace manifested tothee, in comparison with the grace manifested tome? Grace made thee holy, and kept thee holy; but grace found me on the brink of despair, plucked me as a brand from the burning, brought me from the depths of woe and degradation, to a throne and acrown!ThyGod hath loved thee.MyGod hath 'lovedme' andgiven Himselffor me!"
And now we close our meditations on this beautiful and instructive Psalm:—a Psalm which, even since we have begun to write on it, we have seen clung to as a treasured solace in hours of sickness;—its sublime utterances soothing the departing soul, just as it was pluming its wings for flight to the spirit-world! Reader! in any future dark and troubled passages in your life, you may well with comfort turn to thisdiaryof an old and tried saint, remembering that it records the experiences of "the man after God's own heart." Tracinghisfootsteps and tear-drops along "the sands of time," you shall cease to "think it strange concerning the fiery trials that may be trying you, as though some strange thing happened." You will find that "the same afflictions are accomplished in you," which have been "accomplished" in the case of God's most favoured servants in every age of the Church. Do not expect now theunclouded day. That is not for earth, but for heaven. God indeed, had He seen meet, might have ordained that your pathwaywas to be without cloud or darkness, trial or tear;—no poisoned darts, no taunts, no contumely, no cross, no "deep calling to deep,"—nothing but calm seas unfretted by a ripple, sunny slopes and verdant valleys, and bright Mizar-hills of love and faithfulness! But to keep you humble,—to teach you your dependence on Himself,—to make your present existence a state of discipline and probation, He has ordered it otherwise. Your journey as travellers is through mist and cloud-land;—your voyage as seamen through alternate calm and storm.[108]And much of that discipline, too, is mysterious. You cannot discern its "why" and "wherefore." To employ a former symbol, you are now like the vessel building in the dock-yard. The unskilled and uninitiated canhearnothing but clanging hammers;—they can see nothing but unshapely timbers and glare of torches. It is a scene of din and noise, dust and confusion. But all will at last be acknowledged as needed portions in thespiritual workmanship;—when the soul, released from its earthly fastenings, is launched on the summer seas of eternity—
"Give to the winds thy fears,Hope and be undismay'd.God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears,God shall lift up thy head:Through waves, and clouds, and storms,He gently clears the way;Wait thou His time—so shall this nightSoon end in joyous day."[109]
"Give to the winds thy fears,Hope and be undismay'd.God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears,God shall lift up thy head:Through waves, and clouds, and storms,He gently clears the way;Wait thou His time—so shall this nightSoon end in joyous day."[109]
"Give to the winds thy fears,
Hope and be undismay'd.
God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears,
God shall lift up thy head:
Through waves, and clouds, and storms,
He gently clears the way;
Wait thou His time—so shall this night
Soon end in joyous day."[109]
Above all, let this Psalm teach you that yourspiritualinterests are in safe keeping. No wounded Hart seeking the water-brooks ever sought them in vain. When drooping, downcast, disconsolate yourself, remember "God is faithful." "He cannot deny Himself." "He satisfieth the longing soul with goodness." None is "able to pluck you out of His hand." There may be fluctuations—ebbings and flowings—in the tides of the soul; but "He that hath begun a good work in you, will carry it on until the day of the Lord Jesus." You may reachthe heavenly fold with bleating cries,—with torn fleece and bleeding feet;—but youwillreach it, if you have learned to sing, "The Lord is my shepherd!" You may reach the water-brooks with languid eye and panting sides;—but youwillreach them, if you can truthfully say, "My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God!" You may begin your song in the minor-key, but if "My God" be its key-note, you will finish it with the angels and among ministering seraphim!
Go then, Christians! and, as you see whatFaith, andHope, andPrayerdid for the Exile of Gilead, try what they can andwilldo foryou. With all your varied trials, with all your manifold sorrowful experiences, who, after all (this Psalm seems to say) so favoured asyou? Who possess your present exalted privileges?—who your elevating hopes?—the consciousness, even in your trials, that each billow is wafting you nearer the haven of eternal rest? "These see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. For He commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is meltedbecause of trouble. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and He bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet;so He bringeth them unto their desired haven!"
"Soul, then know thy full salvation,Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care,Joy to find in every stationSomething still to do or bear.Think what Spirit dwells within thee,Think what Father's smiles are thine,Think that Jesus died to save thee—Child of heaven! canst thou repine?"Haste thee on from grace to glory—Arm'd byFaithand wing'd byPrayer;Heaven's eternal days before thee,God's own hand shall guide thee there!Soon shall close thy earthly mission,Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days;Hopeshall change to glad fruition,Faithto sight, andPrayerto praise!"
"Soul, then know thy full salvation,Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care,Joy to find in every stationSomething still to do or bear.Think what Spirit dwells within thee,Think what Father's smiles are thine,Think that Jesus died to save thee—Child of heaven! canst thou repine?"Haste thee on from grace to glory—Arm'd byFaithand wing'd byPrayer;Heaven's eternal days before thee,God's own hand shall guide thee there!Soon shall close thy earthly mission,Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days;Hopeshall change to glad fruition,Faithto sight, andPrayerto praise!"
"Soul, then know thy full salvation,Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care,Joy to find in every stationSomething still to do or bear.Think what Spirit dwells within thee,Think what Father's smiles are thine,Think that Jesus died to save thee—Child of heaven! canst thou repine?
"Soul, then know thy full salvation,
Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care,
Joy to find in every station
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee,
Think what Father's smiles are thine,
Think that Jesus died to save thee—
Child of heaven! canst thou repine?
"Haste thee on from grace to glory—
Arm'd byFaithand wing'd byPrayer;
Heaven's eternal days before thee,
God's own hand shall guide thee there!
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hopeshall change to glad fruition,
Faithto sight, andPrayerto praise!"