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Expositor's Bible Commentary Psalm 104:1 Bless the LORD, O my soul. O LORD my God, thou art very great; thou art clothed with honour and majesty. Psalm 104:1-35 LIKE the preceding psalm, this one begins and ends with the psalmist’s call to his soul to bless Jehovah. The inference has been drawn that both psalms have the same author, but that is much too large a conclusion from such a fact. The true lesson from it is that Nature, when looked at by an eye that sees it to be full of God. yields material for devout gratitude no less than do His fatherly "mercies to them that fear Him." The keynote of the psalm is struck in Psalm 104:24 , which breaks into an exclamation concerning the manifoldness of God’s works and the wisdom that has shaped them all. The psalm is a gallery of vivid Nature pictures, touched with Wonderful grace and sureness of hand. Clearness of vision and sympathy with every living thing make the swift outlines inimitably firm and lovely. The poet’s mind is like a crystal mirror, in which the Cosmos is reflected. He is true to the uniform Old Testament point of view, and regards Nature neither from the scientific nor aesthetic standpoint. To him it is the garment of God, the apocalypse of a present Deity, whose sustaining energy is but the prolongation of His creative act. All creatures depend on Him; His continuous action is their life. He rejoices in His works. The Creation narrative in Genesis underlies the psalm, and is in the main followed, though not slavishly. Psalm 104:1 would be normal in structure if the initial invocation were omitted, and as Psalm 104:35 would also be complete without it, the suggestion that it is, in both verses, a liturgical addition is plausible. The verse sums up the whole of the creative act in one grand thought. In that act the invisible God has arrayed Himself in splendour and glory, making visible these inherent attributes. That is the deepest meaning of Creation. The Universe is the garment of God. This general idea lays the foundation for the following picture of the process of creation which is coloured by reminiscences of Genesis. Here, as there, Light is the firstborn of Heaven; but the influence of the preceding thought shapes the language, and Light is regarded as God’s vesture. The Uncreated Light, who is darkness to our eyes, arrays Himself in created light, which reveals while it veils Him. Everywhere diffused, all-penetrating, all-gladdening, it tells of the Presence in which all creatures live. This clause is the poetic rendering of the work of the first creative day. The next clause in like manner deals with that of the second. The mighty arch of heaven is lifted and expanded over earth as easily as a man draws the cloth or skin sides and canopy of his circular tent over its framework. But our roof is His floor; and, according to Genesis, the firmament (lit. expanse) separates the waters above from those beneath. So the psalm pictures the Divine Architect as laying the beams of His upper chambers (for so the word means) in these waters, above the tent roof. The fluid is solid at His will, and the most mobile becomes fixed enough to be the foundation of His royal abode. The custom of having chambers on the roof, for privacy and freshness, suggests the image. In these introductory verses the poet is dealing with the grander instances of creative power, especially as realised in the heavens. Not till Psalm 104:5 does he drop to earth. His first theme is God’s dominion over the elemental forces, and so he goes on to represent the clouds as His chariot, the wind as bearing Him on its swift pinions, and, as the parallelism requires, the winds as His messengers, and devouring fire as His servants. The rendering of Psalm 104:4 adopted in Hebrews from the LXX is less relevant to the psalmist’s purpose of gathering all the forces which sweep through the wide heavens into one company of obedient servants of God, than that adopted above, and now generally recognised. It is to be observed that the verbs in Psalm 104:2-4 are participles, which express continuous action. These creative acts were not done once for all, but are going on still and always. Preservation is continued creation. With Psalm 104:6 we pass to the work of the third of the Genesis days, and the verb is in the form which describes a historical fact. The earth is conceived of as formed, and already moulded into mountains and valleys, but all covered with "the deep" like a vesture-a sadly different one from the robe of Light which He wears. That weltering deep is bidden back to its future appointed bounds; and the process is grandly described, as if the waters were sentient, and, panic struck at God’s voice took to flight. Psalm 104:8 a throws in a vivid touch, to the disturbance of grammatical smoothness. The poet has the scene before his eye, and as the waters flee he sees the earth emerging, the mountains soaring, and the vales sinking, and he breaks his sentence, as if in wonder at the lovely apparition, but returns, in Psalm 104:8 b, to tell whither the fugitive waters fled-namely, to the ocean depths. There they are hemmed in by God’s will, and, as was promised to Noah, shall not again run wasting over a drowned world. The picture of the emerging earth, with its variations of valleys and mountains, remains before the psalmist’s eye throughout Psalm 104:10-18 , which describe how it is clothed and peopled. These effects are due to the beneficent ministry of the same element, when guided and restrained by God, which swathed the world with desolation. Water runs through the vales, and rain falls on the mountains. Therefore the former bear herbs and corn, vines and olives, and the latter are clothed with trees not planted by human hand, the mighty cedars which spread their broad shelves of steadfast green high up among the clouds. "Everything lives whithersoever water cometh," as Easterns know. Therefore round the drinking places in the vales thirsty creatures gather, birds flit and sing; up among the cedars are peaceful nests, and inaccessible cliffs have their sure-footed inhabitants. All depend on water, and water is God’s gift. The psalmist’s view of Nature is characteristic in the direct ascription of all its processes to God. He makes the springs flow, and sends rain on the peaks. Equally characteristic is the absence of any expression of a sense of beauty in the sparkling streams tinkling down the gloomy wadies, or in the rainstorms darkening the hills, or in the green mantle of earth, or in the bright creatures. The psalmist is thinking of use, not of beauty. And yet it is a poet’s clear and kindly eye which looks upon all, and sees the central characteristic of each, -the eager drinking of the wild ass; the music of the birds blending with the brawling, of the stream, and sweeter because the singers are hidden among the branches; the freshly watered earth, "satisfied" with "the fruit of Thy works" ( i.e., the rain which God has sent from His "upper chambers"), the manifold gifts which by His wondrous alchemy are produced from the ground by help of one agency, water; the forest trees with their foliage glistening, as if glad for the rain; the stork on her nest; the goats on the mountains; the "conies" (for which we have no popular name) hurrying to their holes in the cliffs. Man appears as depending, like the lower creatures, on the fruit of the ground; but he has more varied supplies, bread and wine and oil, and these not only satisfy material wants, but "gladden" and "strengthen" the heart. According to some. the word rendered "service" in Psalm 104:14 means "tillage," a meaning which is supported by Psalm 104:23 , where the same word is rendered "labour," and which fits in well with the next clause of Psalm 104:14 , "to bring forth bread from the earth," which would describe the purpose of the tillage. His prerogative of labour is man’s special differentia in creation. It is a token of his superiority to the happy, careless creatures who toil not nor spin. Earth does not yield him its best products without his cooperation. There would thus be an allusion to him as the only worker in creation similar to that in Psalm 104:23 , and to the reference to the "ships" in Psalm 104:26 . But probably the meaning of "service," which is suggested by the parallelism, and does not introduce the new thought of cooperation with Nature or God, is to be preferred. The construction is somewhat difficult, but the rendering of Psalm 104:14-15 given above seems best. The two clauses with infinitive verbs (to bring forth and to cause to shine) are each followed by a clause in which the construction is varied into that with a finite verb, the meaning remaining the same; and all four clauses express the Divine purpose in causing vegetation to spring. Then the psalmist looks up, once more to the hills. "The trees of Jehovah" are so called, not so much because they are great, as because, unlike vines and olives, they have not been planted or tended by man, nor belong to him. Far above the valleys, where men and the cattle dependent on him live on earth’s cultivated bounties, the unowned woods stand and drink God’s sift of rain, while wild creatures lead free lives amid mountains and rocks. With Psalm 104:19 the psalmist passes to the fourth day, but thinks of moon and sun only in relation to the alternation of day and night as affecting creatural life on earth. The moon is named first, because the Hebrew day began with the evening. It is the measurer, by whose phases seasons (or, according to some, festivals) are reckoned. The sun is a punctual servant, knowing the hour to set and duly keeping it. "Thou appointest darkness and it is night." God wills, and His will effects material changes. He says to His servant Night, "Come," and she "comes." The psalmist had peopled the vales and mountains of his picture. Everywhere he had seen life fitted to its environment; and night is populous too. He had outlined swift sketches of tame and wild creatures, and now he half shows us beasts of prey stealing through the gloom. He puts his finger on two characteristics-their stealthy motions, and their cries which made night hideous. Even their roar was a kind of prayer, though they knew it not; it was God from whom they sought their food. It would not have answered the purpose to have spoken of "all the loves, Now sleeping in those quiet groves." The poet desired to show how there were creatures that found possibilities of happy life in all the variety of conditions fashioned by the creative Hand, which was thus shown to be moved by Wisdom and Love. The sunrise sends these nocturnal animals back to their dens. and the world is ready for man. "The sun looked over the mountain’s rim," and the beasts of prey slunk to their lairs, and man’s day of toil began-the mark of his preeminence, God’s gift for his good, by which he uses creation for its highest end and fulfils God’s purpose. Grateful is the evening rest when the day has been filled with strenuous toil. The picture of earth and its inhabitants is now complete, and the dominant thought which it leaves on the psalmist’s heart is cast into the exultant and wondering exclamation of Psalm 104:24 . The variety as well as multitude of the forms in which God’s creative idea is embodied, the Wisdom which shapes all, His ownership of all, are the impressions made by the devout contemplation of Nature. The scientist and the artist are left free to pursue their respective lines of investigation and impression, but scientist and artist must rise to the psalmist’s point of view, if they are to learn the deepest lesson from the ordered kingdoms of Nature and from the beauty which floods the world. With the exclamation in Psalm 104:24 the psalmist has finished his picture of the earth, which he had seen as if emerging from the abyss, and watched as it was gradually clothed "with fertility and peopled with happy life. He turns, in Psalm 104:25-26 , to the other half of his Vision of Creation, and portrays the gathered and curbed waters which he now calls the "sea." As always in Scripture, it is described as it looks to a landsman, gazing out on it from the safe shore. The characteristics specified betray unfamiliarity with maritime pursuits. The far-stretching roll of the waters away out to the horizon, the mystery veiling the strange lives swarming in its depths, the extreme contrasts in the magnitude of its inhabitants, strike the poet. He sees "the stately ships go on." The introduction of these into the picture is unexpected. We should have looked for an instance of the "small" creatures, to pair off with the "great" one, Leviathan, in the next words. "A modern poet," says Cheyne, in loc. , " would have joined the mighty whale to the fairy nautilus." It has been suggested that "ship" here is a name for the nautilus, which is common in the Eastern Mediterranean. The suggestion is a tempting one, as fitting in more smoothly with the antithesis of small and great in the previous clause. But, in the absence of any proof that the word has any other meaning than "ship," the suggestion cannot be taken as more than a probable conjecture. The introduction of "ships" into the picture is quite in harmony with the allusions to man’s works in the former parts of the psalm, such as Psalm 104:23 , and possibly Psalm 104:14 . The psalmist seems to intend to insert such reference to man, the only toiler, in all his pictures. "Leviathan" is probably here the whale. Ewald, Hitzig, Baethgen, Kay, and Cheyne follow the LXX and Vulgate in reading "Leviathan whom Thou hast formed to sport with him," and take the words to refer to Job 41:5 . The thought would then be that God’s power can control the mightiest creature’s plunges; but "the two preceding ‘there’s’ are in favour of the usual interpretation, ‘therein" (Hupfeld), and consequently of taking the "sporting" to be that of the unwieldy gambols of the sea monster. Psalm 104:27-30 mass all creatures of earth and sea, including man, as alike dependent on God for sustenance and for life. Dumbly these look expectant to Him, though man only knows to whom all living eyes are directed. The swift clauses in Psalm 104:28-30 , without connecting particles, vividly represent the Divine acts as immediately followed by the creatural consequences. To this psalmist the links in the chain were of little consequence. His thoughts were fixed on its two ends-the Hand that sent its power thrilling through the links, and the result realised in the creature’s life. All natural phenomena are issues of God’s present will. Preservation is as much His act, as inexplicable without Him, as creation. There would be nothing to "gather" unless He "gave." All sorts of supplies, which make the "good" of physical life, are in His hand, whether they be the food of the wild asses by the streams, or of the conies among the cliffs, or of the young lions in the night, or of Leviathan tumbling amidst the waves, or of toiling man. Nor is it only the nourishment of life which comes straight from God to all, but life itself depends on His continual inbreathing. His face is creation’s light; breath from Him is its life. The withdrawal of it is death. Every change in creatural condition is wrought by Him. He is the only Fountain of Life, and the reservoir of all the forces that minister to life or to inanimate being. But the psalmist will not end his contemplations with the thought of the fair creation returning to nothingness. Therefore he adds another verse ( Psalm 104:30 ); which tells of "life reorient out of dust." Individuals pass; the type remains. New generations spring. The yearly miracle of Spring brings greenness over the snow-covered or brown pastures and green shoots from stiffened boughs. Many of last year’s birds are dead, but there are nests in the cypresses, and twitterings among the branches in the wadies. Life, not, death, prevails in God’s world. So the psalmist gathers all up into a burst of praise. He desires that the glory of God, which accrues to Him from His works, may ever be rendered through devout recognition of Him as working them all by man, the only creature who can be the spokesman of creation. He further desires that, as God at first saw that all was "very good," He may ever continue thus to rejoice in His works, or, in other words, that these may fulfil His purpose. Possibly His rejoicing in His works is regarded as following upon man’s giving glory to Him for them. That rejoicing, which is the manifestation both of His love and of His satisfaction, is all the more desired, because, if His works do not please Him, there lies in Him a dread abyss of destructive power, which could sweep them into nothingness. Superficial readers may feel that the tone of Psalm 104:32 strikes a discord, but it is a discord which can be resolved into deeper harmony. One frown from God, and the solid earth trembles, as conscious to its depths of His displeasure. One touch of the hand that is filled with good, and the mountains smoke. Creation perishes if He is displeased. Well then may the psalmist pray that He may forever rejoice in His works, and make them live by His smile. Very beautifully and profoundly does the psalmist ask, in Psalm 104:33-34 , that some echo of the Divine joy may gladden his own heart, and that his praise may be coeval with God’s glory and his own life. This is the Divine purpose in creation-that God may rejoice in it and chiefly in man its crown, and that man may rejoice in Him. Such sweet commerce is possible between heaven and earth; and they have learned the lesson of creative power and love aright who by it have been led to share in the joy of God. The psalm has been shaped in part by reminiscences of the creative days of creation. It ends with the Divine Sabbath, and with the prayer, which is also a hope, that man may enter into God’s rest. But there is one discordant note in creation’s full-toned hymn, "the fair music that all creatures made." There are sinners on earth: and the last prayer of the psalmist is that that blot may be removed, and so nothing may mar the realisation of God’s ideal, nor be left to lessen the completeness of His delight in His work. And so the psalm ends, as it began, with the singer’s call to his own soul to bless Jehovah. This is the first psalm which closes with Hallelujah (Praise Jehovah). It is appended to the two following psalms, which close Book 4, and is again found in Book 5, in Psalm 111:1-10 ; Psalm 112:1-10 ; Psalm 113:1-9 ; Psalm 115:1-18 ; Psalm 116:1-19 ; Psalm 117:1-2 , and in the final group, Psalm 146:1-10 ; Psalm 147:1-20 ; Psalm 148:1-14 ; Psalm 149:1-9 ; Psalm 150:1-6 . It is probably a liturgical addition. The Expositor's Bible Text Courtesy of BibleSupport.com . Used by Permission.

O Lord my God, Thou art very great. Psalm 104 A hymn of praise to God in Nature Homilist. I. The UNIVERSALITY of God's workings in Nature. 1. In the domain of dead matter. He is operating in the waters as they sail in the clouds, come down in the showers, etc. He is operating on the crusted earth, laying its "foundations," touching its soil into verdure, and shaking it by volcanic fires. "He looketh on the earth and it trembleth," etc. 2. In the domain of living matter,(1) He works in all vegetable life — in the smallest blade as well as in the mightiest monarchs of the forest.(2) He works in all sentient life — feeds every beast of the field, etc. 3. In the domain of rational existence. God works in all moral minds, from the highest angel to the humblest soul on earth. II. The PERSONALITY of God's workings in Nature. 1. He works sublimely. If we take the telescope, we are struck with mute amazement at the vastness and splendour of the stellar systems; if we take the microscope and look at the wing of the smallest insect, or even at an atom of metallic dust, what brilliancy and perfection we discover. He paints His beauty on an insect's wing, and wheels His throne upon the rolling worlds. 2. He works incessantly. There is no pause in His exertions; He neither slumbers nor sleeps, always at work, and at work everywhere and in everything. "It takes as much life," says Emerson, "to conserve as to create the universe." 3. He works benevolently. His desire to communicate His blessedness to other beings is the philosophy of the universe. 4. He works wisely. The Great Author never revises His books, the Great Architect never alters His plans. 5. He works in nature morally.(1) The inspiring of the human soul with rapturous worship (ver. 34). There is no true happiness without true worship; and God so appears in Nature as to awaken all souls into an anthem of praise.(2) To clear from the soul all moral wrong (ver. 35). God's purpose, in all His operations on the earth as well as in the truths of His Gospel, is to make this world morally better and happier. ( Homilist. ) A psalm of Providence J. H. Cooke. This and the psalm immediately foregoing are closely connected. The one sings of God in salvation, the other of God in creation. The first is a hymn; the second, a poem. The first is the peculiar song of the Church; the second, of all His manifold works. The opening of the psalm conveys a sense of being bowed down with the greatness of the Divine Majesty. No description of God is attempted. Only His robe is seen. Light is the robe of God, with which He has covered Himself. And water is the robe of earth, with which God has covered it. This thought governs the chief part of the poem. It might be called the water psalm. For physical life, as we know it, water is essential. God may have creatures formed of fire and living in the fierce stars. God has, we believe, beings of a spiritual nature. But in the natural universe it is only in that small region where water can exist that vegetable, animal, and human life are found. We can but live in earth's water robe. And grandly the psalmist describes it. In clouds the waters gather above the mountains, and await the Divine bidding. Then they hasten to their appointed work. Some roll up the hill sides in mists, some stream down in rivulets; all go to the place God has appointed them. In the deep seas they dance in waves, and roar on the beach, but keep their bounds. With splendid vivacity the poet then describes the water at work in sustaining life. The wild ass drinks, and his strength is renewed. The cedars of Lebanon have their draughts. The great trees, water sustained, provide homes for the singing birds. In them the stork has her house. Grass for cattle, bread and wine and oil for men, supplying varied needs, are produced. In the far-stretching sea there is vigorous life in many and varied forms. And as thus the waters are seen to obey their first command, to bring forth abundantly, there comes the beautiful remark, "These all wait upon Thee, O God," etc. The 104th psalm is very evidently a paraphrase of the 1st chapter of the Book of Genesis. There is this great difference, the psalm before us is rather a song of Providence than of creation. It does not speak of God as completing the machinery of earth and then setting it in motion and retiring for rest. It is God ever living, ever watching, ever at work. This psalm is the necessary supplement to Genesis. In the panorama at the opening of Holy Scripture there is calm and restfulness, but in the picture here all is movement. In the one God looks, and again and again pronounces all to be good. But here there are signs of the entrance of some element of restlessness and disorder. The mountain streams suffer rebuke — they are chased by thunder to their appointed place. When night comes the young lions are heard roaring after their prey. When the sun leads in the dawn man has to go to his toil and labour until the evening. There is something wrong. Signs of manifold wisdom are apparent, but there are darkness, want, toil, trouble, and death. A discord has evidently entered, and the perfect harmony is gone. Here then is a great mystery. Looking abroad upon nature, the prospect is that of a glorious creation, but with something wrong. It has been compared to a perfect chronometer into the works of which a pin has fallen. Science cannot but see much that is mysterious, and at times seem baffled. Creation tells of marvellous wisdom, but all is not right. It shows vast arrangements for happiness which something has marred. This world is a vase of exceeding loveliness, but it has fallen and lies shattered with jagged edges and points. The study of nature ever leads to the conclusion that it is the work of infinite wisdom, but spoiled in some mysterious manner. Everywhere are there signs of the handiwork of One who wrought for purity and peace and love, and everywhere is foulness and disorder and war. Fact or poem, Genesis gives the only solution. Sin has entered, and the splendid work is shattered. With a truer science than many of those who profess to study nature, the psalmist recognizes this and breathes the prayer, "May sinners pass away from the earth and evil-doers be no more. Bless the Lord, O my soul. Hallelujah." St. of Hippo, in his very remarkable series of sermons on this psalm, comes to the conclusion that a spiritual meaning must be sought. He will have water here to allude to "the love of God which is shed abroad on our hearts by the Holy Spirit which is given us." By the world which He hath so founded "that it shall not be moved for ever and ever," he says "I understand the Church." As light is the garment of God, and water the garment of earth, so is love the garment of the Church. It is only as she is robed in this that she is attired with beauty. It is her wedding garment, for he that loveth not is not in Christ. It is in love that God lays the beams of the chambers of His home where there are many mansions. It is love that flows up over the lofty mountains and down in cascades to the humble valleys, sometimes in rushing torrents, and sometimes in hidden springs. It is love that gives verdure and refreshment, and through which souls find a home. Love which is like a mighty sea wherein live creatures innumerable. In God's works in nature are seen His glory and majesty. In the Church is manifest His love. And it is as we consider this, that with sweetest notes we sing, "My meditations of Him shall be sweet, I will be glad in the Lord." ( J. H. Cooke. ) The greatness of God D. Baker, D.D. I. IN COMPARISON WITH THE KINGS OF THE EARTH. We read of Alexander the Great, of Constantine the Great, and Frederick the Great, but, verily, in comparison with the God of heaven, their greatness dwindles into insignificance — dwindles into nothing! Have they thrones? Their thrones are upon the earth; God's throne is in the heavens, "high above all height." Have they robes? God's robes are robes of light and majesty. Have they pavilions? He stretcheth forth the heavens as His pavilion, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in. Have they chariots? He maketh the clouds His chariot — He walketh upon the wings of the wind. Have they kingdoms? The whole universe is God's kingdom, and literally He ruleth over all. II. IN CERTAIN PASSAGES OF SCRIPTURE WHICH SPEAK SUBLIMELY OF HIM ( Habakkuk 3:3-6 ; Psalm 18:6-15 ; Isaiah 40:12, 15-17 ; Revelation 20:11, 12 ). III. IN CERTAIN ATTRIBUTES ASCRIBED TO HIM. 1. He is uncreated and eternal. 2. Omniscient. 3. Omnipotent. 4. Omnipresent. IV. IN THE MIGHTY WORK OF CREATION. We have spoken of His omnipotence as an attribute; here we have its sublime demonstration. How vast is this creation, and how wonderful in all its parts! V. IN THE WORLD OF REDEMPTION. This exhibits His moral grandeur; and it is this which makes Him emphatically and supremely great indeed. Infinitely great in goodness as He is infinitely great in power; infinitely great in all His moral as in all His natural perfections; so that, in the sublimest sense, it may be said of Him that "He is a God, all o'er consummate, absolute, full orbed, in His whole round of rays complete." INFERENCES. 1. How reasonable it is that we should worship and serve this only living and true God. 2. How dreadful a thing it must be to have this great God for an enemy. 3. How blessed it is to have God upon our side. ( D. Baker, D.D. ) Nature J. B. Mozley, D.D. Nature has two great revelations, — that of use and that of beauty; and the first thing we observe about these two characteristics of her is, that they are bound together, and tied to each other. The beauty of nature is not, as it were, a fortunate accident, which can be separated from her use; there is no difference in the tenure upon which these two characteristics stand; the beauty is just as much a part of nature as the use; they are only different aspects of the self-same facts. It is worth observing, in the history of the mind of this country, the formation of a kind of passion for scenery and natural beauty. Though it might sometimes appear that there is nothing particularly serious in the current fashion, still the general sentiment shows a serious passion existing in the poetry and thought of the age, which it follows and copies. What is the religious bearing, then, of this modern passion for nature in its pictorial aspect? First, then, with respect to the place which the beauty of nature has in the argument of Design from nature. When the materialist has exhausted himself in efforts to explain utility in nature, it would appear to be the peculiar office of beauty to rise up suddenly as a confounding and baffling extra, which was not even formally provided for in his scheme. Nature goes off at a tangent which carries her farther than ever from the head under which he places her, and shows the utter inadequacy of that head to include all that has to be included in it. The secret of nature is farther off than ever from what he thinks of it. Physical science goes back and back into nature, but it is the aspect and front of nature which gives the challenge; and it is a challenge which no backward train of physical causes can meet. But again, nature is partly a curtain and partly a disclosure, partly a veil and partly a revelation; and here we come to her faculty of symbolism, which is so strong an aid to, and has so immensely affected, the principles of worship. It is natural for us to regard the beauty and grandeur of nature as not stopping with itself, but bearing a relation to something moral, of which it is the similitude and type. Certainly no person has a right to fasten his own fancies upon the visible creation, and say that its various features mean this and that, resemble this or that in the moral world; but if the association is universal, if we cannot even describe nature without the help of moral terms — solemn, tender, awful, and the like — it is evidence of a natural and real similitude of physical things to moral. Nature is sometimes spoken of in a pantheistic corporeal manner; as if it were a kind of bodily manifestation of the Divine Being, analogous to that garment of the flesh which encircles the human soul, and is the instrument of expression to it. But the manifestation of the Deity which takes place in the beauty of nature rests upon the ground and the principle of language. It is the revelation of the character of God in the way a material type or similitude can be. But a type is a kind of distinct language — the language of oblique and indirect expression, as contrasted with direct. While we do not worship the material created sign, for that would be idolatry, we still repose on it as the true language of the Deity. In this peculiar view of nature there are two points in striking concurrence with the vision-language of Scripture. First, Scripture has specially consecrated the faculty of sight, and has partly put forth, and has promised in a still more complete form, a manifestation of the Deity to mankind, through the medium of a great sight. This view only breaks out in fragments in the Old Testament. It emerges into light when nature is spoken of as the garment and robe of the Deity, when the glory of the Lord covers the tabernacle; when Moses is permitted to behold from the cleft in the rock the skirts of the Divine glory. Especially does the idea of a visible manifestation come out in the prophetic visions, where the splendid gleams and colours of nature, sapphire and amber, rainbow and flame, are collected together, and combined in an emblematic figure and shape, in order to make "the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord." "And when I saw," says the Prophet, "I fell on my face, and I heard the voice of one that spake." But the scattered rays of pictorial representation which only occasionally pierce through the clouds of the Old Testament, are gathered into one focus in the New, they converge and are absorbed into an ineffable, eternal appearance, in which God will ever be seen as He is, and they issue in the doctrine of the Visio Dei. Secondly, it must be remarked, as another principle in the Scriptural representation, that the act of seeing a perfectly glorious sight or object is what constitutes the spectator's and beholder's own glory. The future life is called a state of glory in Scripture, and it is called such not only in reference to the world in which it will be enjoyed, which is a glorious world, but also with regard to those who enjoy it; who attain to glory as a personal state. This personal state is enjoyed by them on this principle, that they are glorified as spectators of glory, that beholding Majesty is their own exaltation, and adoration their own ascent. But this latter is certainly the principle of nature and it is inculcated by all who vindicate the place and office of nature as a spectacle. No one was ever struck with wonder and admiration in beholding the works of God, no one was ever impressed strongly by the beauty and majesty of the visible creation, without at the same time feeling an accession of rank and elevation to himself from the act. ( J. B. Mozley, D.D. ) Nature's teaching Canon Barker. Nothing is more obvious than that the writers of the Psalms were attracted by the beauty, influence, and fecundity of the earth. Now beauty, apart from all else, is something which must for ever attract us. Beauty is something so subtle, so incomprehensible, that there is no language we can employ or discover which can in any way enable us to understand what is the common root and ground out of which all the beauty springs. And this particular view of nature is very highly important in this materialistic age, when men are so disposed to teach that there is nothing beyond what we see; and so lead our minds to the contemplation of what is material, to give an explanation of all the wonders of nature, the causes of their wonderful operations, and the secret of their power. Wherever you travel with a man of science, and you draw his attention to something in the universe, he will have ready to hand an explanation of what you have pointed out, and a ready answer to the difficulties in your mind. If you are travelling, for instance, in Switzerland, and you point out the grandeur and glory of the mountain range, he will at once begin to explain to you how they arose and got their present configuration, and be extremely learned with regard to the properties of which they consist. After he has dilated at great length, with all learning and profundity, on these aspects of nature, you suddenly turn to him and say, "All you tell me may be very true; your explanation may be very profound, and your science may be very subtle, but I would like to ask you one question. Can you tell me what the beauty of the mountains is? Is it the height, or the depth; is it the light or the shade? Is it the cloud above, or the earth beneath, which constitutes its beauty?" He looks at you and says, "That is beyond me." For what is beauty? No man can describe it, or tell us what it is. It has no real existence apart from intelligence; for you must recollect that the beauty of nature is as much open and exposed to the brute as it is to you and to me. I am, therefore, left to draw a single inference, and that is this — The beauty of nature is not a mere accident; the beauty of nature is not something painted on the surface of nature. The beauty of nature is some integral part of its whole working; and while it is working as a machine it is sleeping as a picture. In the Bible you always find the writer draws the attention of the reader to the soul. The psalmist, after contemplating the glory of God, and that spectacle of light, felt there was a mystery beyond all explanation; and he called on his higher nature to rejoice. ( Canon Barker. ) Who maketh the clouds His chariot. Psalm 104:3 The cloudy equipage T. De Witt Talmage. To understand the psalmist's meaning, you must know that the chariot of old was sometimes a sculptured brilliancy, made out of ivory, sometimes of solid' silver, and rolled on two wheels, which were fastened to the axle by stout pins, and the defeat of OEnomaus by Pelops was caused by the fact that a traitorous charioteer had inserted a linch-pin of wax instead of a linch-pin of iron. All of the six hundred chariots of Pharaoh lost their linch-pins in the Red Sea: "The Lord took off their wheels." Look at the long flash of Solomon's fourteen hundred chariots, and the thirty thousand chariots of the Philistines. But my text puts all such occasions into insignificance, as it represents the King of the Universe coming to the door of His palace, and the gilded vapours of heaven rolling up to His feet, and He, stepping in and taking the reins of the galloping winds in His hand, starts in triumphal ride under the arches of sapphire, and over the atmospheric highways of opal and chrysolite, "the clouds His chariot." He has His morning-cloud chariot and His evening-cloud chariot — the cloud chariot in which He rode down to Sinai to open the law, and the cloud chariot in which He rode down to Tabor to honour the Gospel, and the cloud chariot in which He will come to judgment. When He rides out in His morning chariot at this season, He puts golden coronets on the dome of cities, and silvers the rivers, and out of the dew makes a diamond ring for the fingers of every grass blade, and bids good cheer to invalids who in the night said, "Would God it were morning!" From this morning-cloud chariot He distributes light — light for the earth and light for the heavens, light for the land and light for the sea, great bars of it, great wreaths of it, great columns of it, a world full of it. What a mighty thing the King throws from His chariot when He throws us the morning! Yea; He has also His evening-cloud chariot. It is made out of the saffron and the gold and the purple and the orange and the vermilion and upshot flame of the sunset. That is the place where the splendours that have marched through the day, having ended the procession, throw down their torches and set the heavens on fire. Oh, what a rich God we have that He can put on one evening sky pictures that excel Michael Angelo's "Last Judgment," and Ghirlandajo's "Adoration of the Magi," and whole galleries of Madonnas, and for only an hour, and throw them away, and the next evening put on the same sky something that excels all that the Raphaels and Titians and Rembrandts ever executed, and then draw a curtain of mist over them never again to be exhibited! How rich God must be to have a new chariot of clouds every evening! But the Bible tells us that our King also has His black chariot, for we are told that "Clouds and darkness are round about Him." That chariot is cloven out of night, and that night is trouble. When He rides forth in that black chariot, pesitilence and earthquake and famine and hurricane and woe attend Him. Then let the earth tremble. Then let nations pray. Mark you, the ancient chariot which David uses as a symbol in my text, had only two wheels, and that was that they might turn quickly, two wheels taking less than half the time to turn than four wheels would have taken. And our Lord's chariot has only two wheels, and that means instant reversal, and instant help, and instant deliverance. While the combined forces of the universe in battle array could not stop His black chariot a second, or diverge it an inch, the driver of that chariot says, "Call upon Me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee." "While they are yet speaking I will hear." His two-wheeled chariot, one wheel justice, and the other wheel mercy. Aye, they are swift wheels. A cloud, whether it belongs to the cirrhus, the clouds that float the highest; or belongs to the stratus, the central ranges; or to the cumulus, the lowest ranges — seems to move slowly along the sky if it moves at all. But many of the clouds go at such a speed that even a limited lightning express train would seem lethargic, so swift is the chariot of our God; yea, swifter than the storm, swifter than the light. Yet a child ten years old has been known to reach up, and with the hand of prayer take the courser of that chariot by the bit and slow it up, or stop it, or turn it aside, or turn it back. Notice that these old-time chariots, which nay text uses for symbol, had what we would call a high dashboard at the front, but were open behind. And the king would stand at the dashboard and drive with his own hands. And I am glad that He whose chariot the clouds are, drives Himself. He does not let natural law drive, for natural law is deaf. He does not let fate drive, for fate is merciless. But our Father King Himself drives, and He puts His loving hand on the reins of the flying coursers, and He has a loving ear open to the cry of all who want to catch His attention. But there are clouds that touch the earth and discharge their rain; and, though the clouds out of which God's chariot is made may sometimes be far away, often they are close by, and they touch our shoulders, and our homes, and they touch us all over. I have read of two rides that the Lord took in two different chariots of clouds, and of another that He will take. One day, in a chariot of clouds that were a mingling of fog and smoke and fire, God drove down to the top of a terrible crag fifteen hundred feet high, now called Jebel-Musa, then called Mount Sinai, and He stepped out of His chariot among the split shelvings of rock. The mountain shook as with an ague, and there were ten volleys of thunder, each of the ten emphasizing a tremendous "Thou shalt" or "Thou shalt not." Then the Lord resumed His chariot of cloud, and drove up the hills of heaven. They were dark and portentous clouds that made that chariot at the giving of the law. But one day He took another ride, and this time down to Mount Tabor; the clouds out of which His chariot was made, bright clouds, roseate clouds, illumined clouds, and music rained from all of them, and the music was a mingling of carol and chant and triumphal march: "This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Transfiguration chariot! "Oh," say you, "I wish I could have seen those chariots — the black one that brought the Lord to Jebel-Musa, at the giving of the law, and the white one that brought Him down to Tabor!" Never mind, you will see something grander than that, and it will be a mightier mingling of the sombre and the radiant, and the pomp of it will be such that the chariots in which Trajan and Diocletian and Zenobia and Caesar and Alexander and all the conquerors of all the ages rode will be unworthy of mention; and what stirs me most is, that when He comes in that chariot of cloud and goes back, He will ask you and me to ride with Him both ways. How do I know that the judgment chariot will be made out of clouds? Read Revelation 1:7 . ( T. De Witt Talmage. ) Who maketh His angels spirits The powers of Nature J. H. Newman, B.D. 1. What a number of beautiful and wonderful objects does Nature present on every side of us! and how little we know concerning them! In some indeed we see symptoms of intelligence, and we get to form some idea of what they are. For instance, about brute animals we know little, but still we see they have sense, and we understand that their bodily form which meets the eye is but the index, the outside token of something we do not see. Much more in the case of men: we see them move, speak, and act, and we know that all we see takes place in consequence of their will, because they have a spirit within them, though we do not see it. But why do rivers flow? Why does rain fall? Why does the sun warm us? And the wind, why does it blow? Here our natural reason is at fault; we know, I say, that it is the spirit in man and in beast that makes man and beast move, but reason tells us of no spirit abiding in what is commonly called the natural world, to make it perform its ordinary duties. Of course, it is God's will which sustains it all; so does God's will enable us to move also, yet this does not hinder, but, in one sense, we may be truly said to move ourselves: but how do the wind and water, earth and fire, move? Now, here Scripture interposes, and seems to tell us that all this wonderful harmony is the work of angels. Those events which we ascribe to chance as the weather, or to nature as the seasons, are duties done to that God who maketh His angels to be winds, and His ministers a flame of fire ( John 5:4 ; Exodus 19:16-18 ; Galatians 3:19 ; Acts 7:53 ; Revelation 7:1 ; Genesis 19:13 ; 2 Kings 19:35 ; 2 Samuel 24:15-17 ; Matthew 28:2 ; Revelation 8:1 ; Revelation 9 ; Revelation 16 ). Thus, whenever we look abroad, we are reminded of those most gracious and holy beings, the servants of the Holiest, who deign to minister to the heirs of salvation. Every breath of air and ray of light and heat, every beautiful prospect, is, as it were, the skirts of their garments, the waving of the robes of those whose faces see God in heaven. And I put it to any one, whether it is not as philosophical, and as full of intellectual enjoyment, to refer the movements of the natural world to them, as to attempt to explain them by certain theories of science, useful as these theories certainly are for particular purposes, and capable (in subordination to that higher view) of a religious application. 2. Vain man would be wise, and he curiously examines the works of Nature, as if they were lifeless and senseless; as if he alone had intelligence, and they were base inert matter, however curiously contrived at the first. So he goes on, tracing the order of things, seeking for causes in that order, giving names to the wonders he meets with, and thinking he understands what he has given a name to. At length he forms a theory, and recommends it in writing, and calls himself a philosopher. Now, all these theories of science, which I speak of, are useful, as classifying, and so assisting us to recollect, the works and ways of God and of His ministering angels. And again, they are ever most useful, in enabling us to apply the course of His providence, and the ordinances of His will, to the benefit of man. Thus we are enabled to enjoy God's gifts; and let us thank Him for the knowledge which enables us to do so, and honour those who are His instruments in communicating it. When then we walk abroad, and "meditate in the field at the eventide," how much has every herb and flower in it to surprise and overwhelm us! For, even did we know as much about them as the wisest of men, yet there are those around us, though unseen, to whom our greatest knowledge is as ignorance; and, when we converse on subjects of nature scientifically, repeating the names of plants and earths, and describing their properties, we should do so religiously, as in the hearing of the great servants of God, with the sort of diffidence which we always feel when speaking before the learned and wise of our own mortal race, as poor beginners in intellectual knowledge, as well as in moral attainments. 3. Lastly, it is a motive to our exertions in doing the will of God, to think that, if we attain to heaven, we shall become the fellows of the blessed angels. Indeed, what do we know of the courts of heaven, but as peopled by them? and therefore doubtless they are revealed to us, that we may have something to fix our thoughts on, when we look heavenwards. ( J. H. Newman, B.D. ) Spiritual ministries W. W. Newton. The author of this psalm is deeply impressed with the manifestation of God's presence in nature. Everything reminds him of God. And the wonderful fact about his language is, that it not only conceives of material things in spiritual phraseology, but that it ascends higher than this, and describes spiritual things in the wording of material symbols. I. THE TRUEST MINISTRIES IN GOD'S SERVICE ARE THE SPIRITUAL ONES. We, in our earthliness and sense-satisfied lives, wrapped about continually with the demands of the flesh, crave creaturely ministries; we want prosperity, success, and pleasure; we want material food, and physical delights, and social honour; we run after the trumpet-blare of fame, and bite at the dangling hook of influence and power. And who can wonder, when nerves and brain, and soul itself, are all enwrapped in matter, so that the touch of the senses is over all that we do? Yet right in the face of all this material and creaturely drift of our natures, we need to hear these far-off words of inspiration and command, "He maketh His angels spirits." Who does not know and feel the power and the truthfulness of this thought? II. GOD'S TRUEST SERVANTS ARE THOSE WHOSE CHARACTERS ARE AN INSPIRATION TO OTHERS. This it is which gives to history its interest and its highest meaning; it is the charm which always comes from bringing forward new men and new issues to take the place of worn-out men and times. This touch of God's inspiration is like a new incarnation of Divine power in every strong, brave, true life. Then we feel that we can conquer, because others have conquered; then we feel that we, too, can rise above self and those miserable infirmities of our existence which seem, at times, to hedge our lives into a land-locked inland sea of mediocrity of living, simply because others have threaded their way through similar narrow places, and have escaped from their moral captivity altogether. This is what makes a good piece of honest biography such attractive reading: we get bird's-eye views of this common life of ours; we get an insight into the secret working of causes which have their home in the souls of us all. ( W. W. Newton. ) Ardency required of ministers It is true that a man may hold out a light to others who himself does not see it. It is true that, as a concave speculum cut from a block of ice, by its power of concentrating the rays of the sun, may kindle touchwood or explode gunpowder, so a preacher may set others on fire, when his own heart is cold as frost. It is true that he may stand like a lifeless finger-post, pointing the way along the road where he neither leads nor follows. It is true that God in His sovereign mercy may thus bless others by one who is himself unblessed. Yet commonly it happens, that it is that which proceeds from the heart of preachers that penetrates and affects the hearts of hearers, like a ball red-hot from the cannon's mouth, he must burn himself who would set others on fire. ( T. Guthrie , D.D. ) Who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not he removed for ever. Psalm 104:5-9 Stability of Nature essential to prosperity Charles Darwin. Earthquakes alone a

104:1-9 Every object we behold calls on us to bless and praise the Lord, who is great. His eternal power and Godhead are clearly shown by the things which he hath made. God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. The Lord Jesus, the Son of his love, is the Light of the world. 104:10-18 When we reflect upon the provision made for all creatures, we should also notice the natural worship they render to God. Yet man, forgetful ungrateful man, enjoys the largest measure of his Creator's kindness. the earth, varying in different lands. Nor let us forget spiritual blessings; the fruitfulness of the church through grace, the bread of everlasting life, the cup of salvation, and the oil of gladness. Does God provide for the inferior creatures, and will he not be a refuge to his people? 104:19-30 We are to praise and magnify God for the constant succession of day and night. And see how those are like to the wild beasts, who wait for the twilight, and have fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness. Does God listen to the language of mere nature, even in ravenous creatures, and shall he not much more interpret favourably the language of grace in his own people, though weak and broken groanings which cannot be uttered? There is the work of every day, which is to be done in its day, which man must apply to every morning, and which he must continue in till evening; it will be time enough to rest when the night comes, in which no man can work. The psalmist wonders at the works of God. The works of art, the more closely they are looked upon, the more rough they appear; the works of nature appear more fine and exact. They are all made in wisdom, for they all answer the end they were designed to serve. Every spring is an emblem of the resurrection, when a new world rises, as it were, out of the ruins of the old one. But man alone lives beyond death. When the Lord takes away his breath, his soul enters on another state, and his body will be raised, either to glory or to misery. May the Lord send forth his Spirit, and new-create our souls to holiness. 104:31-35 Man's glory is fading; God's glory is everlasting: creatures change, but with the Creator there is no variableness. And if mediation on the glories of creation be so sweet to the soul, what greater glory appears to the enlightened mind, when contemplating the great work of redemption! There alone can a sinner perceive ground of confidence and joy in God. While he with pleasure upholds all, governs all, and rejoices in all his works, let our souls, touched by his grace, meditate on and praise him.