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Expositor's Bible Commentary Psalm 55:1 To the chief Musician on Neginoth, Maschil, A Psalm of David. Give ear to my prayer, O God; and hide not thyself from my supplication. Psalm 55:1-23 THE situation of the psalmist has a general correspondence with that of David in the period of Absalom’s rebellion, and the identification of the traitorous friend with Ahithophel is naturally suggested. But there are considerable difficulties in the way of taking that view. The psalmist is evidently in the city, from which he longs to escape; but Ahithophel’s treachery was not known to David till after his flight. Would a king have described his counsellor, however trusted, as "a man my equal"? The doubt respecting the identity of the traitor, however, does not seriously militate against the ordinary view of the date and occasion of the psalm, if we suppose that it belongs to the period immediately before the outburst of the conspiracy, when David was still in Jerusalem, but seeing the treason growing daily bolder, and already beginning to contemplate flight. The singularly passive attitude which he maintained during the years of Absalom’s plotting was due to his consciousness of guilt and his submission to punishment. Hitzig ascribes the psalm to Jeremiah, principally on the ground of the resemblance of the prophet’s wish for a lodge in the wilderness { Jeremiah 9:2 } to the psalmist’s yearning in Psalm 55:6-8 . Cheyne brings it down to the Persian period; Olshausen, to the Maccabean. The Davidic authorship has at least as much to say for itself as any of these conjectures. The psalm may be regarded as divided into three parts, in each of which a different phase of agitated feeling predominates, but not exclusively. Strong excitement does not marshal emotions or their expression according to artistic proprieties of sequence, and this psalm is all ablaze with it. That vehemence of emotion sufficiently accounts for both the occasional obscurities and the manifest want of strict accuracy in the flow of thought, without the assumption of dislocation of parts or piecing it with a fragment of another psalm. When the heart is writhing within, and tumultuous feelings are knocking at the door of the lips, the words will be troubled and heaped together, and dominant thoughts will repeat themselves in defiance of logical continuity. But, still, complaint and longing sound through the wailing, yearning notes of Psalm 55:1-8 ; hot indignation and terrible imprecations in the stormy central portion ( Psalm 55:9-15 ); and a calmer note of confidence and hope, through which, however, the former indignation surges up again, is audible in the closing verses ( Psalm 55:16-23 ). The psalmist pictures his emotions in the first part, with but one reference to their cause, and but one verse of petition. He begins, indeed, with asking that his prayer may be heard; and it is well when a troubled heart can raise itself above the sea of troubles to stretch a hand towards God. Such an effort of faith already prophesies firm footing on the safe shore. But very pathetic and true to the experience of many a sorrowing heart is the psalmist’s immediately subsequent dilating on his griefs. There is a dumb sorrow, and there is one which unpacks its heart in many words and knows not when to stop. The psalmist is distracted in his bitter brooding on his troubles. The word means to move restlessly, and may either apply to body or mind, perhaps to both; for Eastern demonstrativeness is not paralysed, but stimulated to bodily tokens, by sorrow. He can do nothing but groan or moan. His heart "writhes" in him. Like an avalanche, deadly terrors have fallen on him and crushed him. Fear and trembling have pierced into his inner being, and "horror" (a rare word, which the LXX here renders darkness) wraps him round or covers him, as a cloak does. It is not so much the pressure of present evil, as the shuddering anticipation of a heavier storm about to burst, which is indicated by these pathetic expressions. The cause of them is stated in a single verse ( Psalm 55:3 ). "The voice of the enemy" rather than his hand is mentioned first, since threats and reproaches precede assaults; and it is budding, not full-blown, enmity which is in view. In Psalm 55:3 b "oppression" is an imperfect parallelism with "voice," and the conjectural emendation (which only requires the prefixing of a letter) of "cries," adopted by Cheyne, after Olshausen and others, is tempting. They "fling down iniquity" on him as rocks are hurled or rolled from a height on invaders-a phrase which recalls David’s words to his servants, urging flight before Absalom, "lest he bring down evil upon us." Then, from out of all this plaintive description of the psalmist’s agitation and its causes, starts up that immortal strain which answers to the deepest longings of the soul, and has touched responsive chords in all whose lives are not hopelessly outward and superficial-the yearning for repose. It may be ignoble, or lofty and pure; it may mean only cowardice or indolence; but it is deepest in those who stand most unflinchingly at their posts, and crush it down at the command of duty. Unless a soul knows that yearning for a home in stillness, "afar from the sphere of our sorrow," it will remain a stranger to many high and noble things. The psalmist was moved to utter this longing by his painful consciousness of encompassing evils; but the longing is more than a desire for exemption from these. It is the cry of the homeless soul, which, like the dove from the ark, finds no resting place in a world full of carrion, and would fain return whence it came. "O God, Thou hast made us for Thyself, and we are unquiet till we find rest in Thee." No obligation of duty keeps migratory birds in a land where winter is near. But men are better than birds, because they have other things to think of than repose, and must face, not flee, storms and hurricanes. It is better to have wings "like birds of tempest-loving kind," and to beat up against the wind, than to outfly it in retreat. So the psalmist’s wish was but a wish; and he, like the rest of us, had to stand to his post, or be tied to his stake, and let enemies and storms do their worst. The LXX has a striking reading of Psalm 55:8 , which Cheyne has partially adopted. It reads for Psalm 55:8 a "waiting for Him who saves me"; but beautiful as this is, as giving the picture of the restful fugitive in patient expectation, it brings an entirely new idea into the picture, and blends metaphor and fact confusedly. The Selah at the close of Psalm 55:7 deepens the sense of still repose by a prolonged instrumental interlude. The second part turns from subjective feelings to objective facts. A cry for help and a yearning for a safe solitude were natural results of the former; but when the psalmist’s eye turns to his enemies, a flash of anger lights it, and, instead of the meek longings of the earlier verses, prayers for their destruction are vehemently poured out. The state of things in the city corresponds to what must have been the condition of Jerusalem during the incubation of Absalom’s conspiracy, but is sufficiently general to fit any time of strained party feeling. The caldron simmers, ready to boil over. The familiar evils, of which so many psalms complain, are in full vigour. The psalmist enumerates them with a wealth of words which indicates their abundance. Violence, strife, iniquity, mischief, oppression, and deceit-a goodly company to patrol the streets and fill the open places of the city! Psalm 55:10 a-is sometimes taken as carrying on the personification of Violence and Strife in Psalm 55:9 , by painting these as going their rounds on the walls like sentries; but it is better to suppose that the actual foes are meant, and that they are keeping up a strict watch to prevent the psalmist’s escape. Several commentators consider that the burst of indignation against the psalmist’s traitorous friend in Psalm 55:12-14 interrupts the sequence, and propose rearrangements by which Psalm 55:20-21 , will be united with Psalm 55:12-14 , and placed either before Psalm 55:6 or after Psalm 55:15 . But the very abruptness with which the thought of the traitor is interjected here, and in the subsequent reference to him, indicates how the singer’s heart was oppressed by the treason; and the return to the subject in Psalm 55:20 is equally significant of his absorbed and pained brooding on the bitter fact. That is a slight pain which is removed by one cry. Rooted griefs, overwhelming sorrows, demand many repetitions. Trouble finds ease in tautology. It is absurd to look for cool, logical sequence in such a heart’s cry as this psalm. Smooth continuity would be most unnatural. The psalmist feels that the defection of his false friend is the worst blow of all. He could have braced himself to bear an enemy’s reviling; he could have found weapons to repel, or a shelter in which to escape from, open foes; but the baseness which forgets all former sweet companionship in secret, and all association in public and in worship, is more than he can bear up against. The voice of wounded love is too plain in the words for the hypothesis that the singer is the personified nation. Traitors are too common to allow of a very confident affirmation that the psalm must point to Ahithophel, and the description of the perfidious friend as the equal of the psalmist does not quite fit that case. As he thinks of all the sweetness of past intimacy, turned to gall by such dastardly treachery, his anger rises. The description of the city and of the one enemy in whom all its wickedness is, as it were, concentrated, is framed in a terrible circlet of prayers for the destruction of the foes. Psalm 55:9 a begins and Psalm 55:15 ends this part with petitions which do not breathe the spirit of "Father, forgive them." There may be a reference to the confusion of tongues at Babel in the prayer of Psalm 55:9 . As then the impious work was stopped by mutual unintelligibility, so the psalmist desires that his enemies machinations may be paralysed in like manner. In Psalm 55:15 the translation "desolations" follows the Hebrew text, while the alternative and in some respects preferable reading "May death come suddenly" follows the Hebrew marginal correction. There are difficulties in both, and the correction does not so much smooth the language as to be obviously an improvement. The general sense is clear, whichever reading is preferred. The psalmist is calling down destruction on his enemies; and while the fact that he is in some manner an organ of the Divine purpose invests hostility to him with the darker character of rebellion against God, and therefore modifies the personal element in the prayer, it still remains a plain instance of the lower level on which the Old Testament saints and singers stood, when compared with the "least in the kingdom of heaven." The third part of the psalm returns to gentler tones of devotion and trust. The great name of Jehovah appears here significantly. To that ever-living One, the Covenant God, will the psalmist cry, in assurance of answer. "Evening, and morning, and noon" designate the whole day by its three principal divisions, and mean, in effect, continually. Happy are they who are impelled to unintermitting prayer by the sight of unslumbering enmity! Enemies may go their rounds "day and night," but they will do little harm, if the poor, hunted man, whom they watch so closely, lifts his cries to Heaven "evening, and morning, and noon." The psalmist goes back to his first words. He had begun by saying that he was distracted as he mused, and could do nothing but groan, and in Psalm 55:17 he repeats that he will still do so. Has he, then, won nothing by his prayer but the prolongation of his first dreary tone of feeling? He has won this-that his musing is not accompanied by distraction, and that his groaning is not involuntary expression of pain, but articulate prayer, and therefore accompanied by the confidence of being heard. Communion with God and prayerful trust in his help do not at once end sadness and sobbing, but do change their character and lighten the blackness of grief. This psalmist, like so many of his fellows, realises deliverance before he experiences it, and can sing "He has redeemed my soul" even while the calamity lasts. "They come not near me," says he. A soul hidden in God has an invisible defence which repels assaults. As with a man in a diving bell, the sea may press on the crystal walls, but cannot crush them in or enter, and there is safe, dry lodging inside, while sea billows and monsters are without, close to the diver and yet far from him. Psalm 55:19 is full of difficulty, and most probably has suffered some textual corruption. To "hear and answer" is uniformly an expression for gracious hearing and beneficent answering. Here it can only mean the opposite, or must be used ironically. God will hear the enemies’ threats, and will requite them. Various expedients have been suggested for removing the difficulty. It has been proposed to read "me" for "them" which would bring everything into order-only that, then, the last clauses of the verse, which begin with a relative ("who have no changes," etc .), would want an antecedent. It has been proposed to read "will humble them" for "will answer them," which, is the LXX translation. That requires a change in the vowels of the verb, and "answer" is more probable than "humble" after "hear." Cheyne follows Olshausen in supposing that "the cry of the afflicted" has dropped out after "hear." The construction of Psalm 55:19 b is anomalous, as the clause is introduced by a superfluous "and," which may be a copyist’s error. The Selah attached is no less anomalous. It is especially difficult to explain, in view of the relative which begins the third clause, and which would otherwise be naturally brought into close connection with the "them," the objects of the verbs in a. These considerations lead Hupfeld to regard Psalm 55:19 as properly ending with Selah, and the remaining clauses as out of place, and properly belonging to Psalm 55:15 or Psalm 55:18 ; while Cheyne regards the alternative supposition that they are a fragment of another psalm as possible. There is probably some considerable corruption of the text, not now to be remedied; but the existing reading is at least capable of explanation and defence. The principal difficulty in the latter part of Psalm 55:19 is the meaning of the word rendered "changes." The persons spoken of are those whom God will hear and answer in His judicial character, in which He has been throned from of old. Their not having "changes" is closely connected with their not fearing God. The word is elsewhere used for changes of raiment, or for the relief of military guards. Calvin and others take the changes intended to be vicissitudes of fortune, and hence draw the true thought that unbroken prosperity tends to forgetfulness of God. Others take the changes to be those of mind or conduct from evil to good, while others fall back upon the metaphor of relieving guard, which they connect with the picture in Psalm 55:10 of the patrols on the walls, so getting the meaning "they have no cessation in their wicked watchfulness." It must be acknowledged that none of these meanings is quite satisfactory; but probably the first, which expresses the familiar thought of the godlessness attendant on uninterrupted prosperity, is best. Then follows another reference to the traitorous friend, which, by its very abruptness, declares how deep is the wound he has inflicted. The psalmist does not stand alone. He classes with himself those who remained faithful to him. The traitor has not yet thrown off his mask. though the psalmist has penetrated his still retained disguise. He comes with smooth words; but, in the vigorous language of Psalm 55:21 , "his heart is war." The fawning softness of words known to be false cuts into the heart, which had trusted and knows itself betrayed, more sharply than keen steel. Psalm 55:22 has been singularly taken as the smooth words which cut so deep; but surely that is a very strained interpretation. Much rather does the psalmist exhort himself and all who have the same bitterness to taste, to commit themselves to Jehovah. What is it which he exhorts us to cast on Him? The word employed is used here only, and its meaning is therefore questionable. The LXX and others translate "care." Others, relying on Talmudical usage, prefer "burden," which is appropriate to the following promise of being held erect. Others (Hupfeld, etc .) would read "that which He has given thee." The general sense is clear, and the faith expressed in both exhortation and appended promise has been won by the singer through his prayer. He is counselling and encouraging himself. The spirit has to spur the "soul" to heroisms of faith and patience. He is declaring a universal truth. However crushing our loads of duty or of sorrow, we receive strength to carry them with straight backs, if we cast them on Jehovah. The promise is not that He will take away the pressure, but that He will hold us up under it; and, similarly, the last clause declares that the righteous will not be allowed to stumble. Faith is mentioned before righteousness. The two must go together; for trust which is not accompanied and manifested by righteousness is no true trust, and righteousness which is not grounded in trust is no stable or real righteousness. The last verse sums up the diverse fates of the "men of blood and deceit" and of the psalmist. The terrible prayers of the middle portion of the psalm have wrought the assurance of their fulfilment, just as the cries of faith have brought the certainty of theirs. So the two closing verses of the psalm turn both parts of the earlier petitions into prophecies; and over against the trustful, righteous psalmist, standing erect and unmoved, there is set the picture of the "man of blood and deceit," chased down the black slopes to the depths of destruction by the same God whose hand holds up the man that trusts in Him. It is a dreadful contrast, and the spirit of the whole psalm is gathered into it. The last clause of all makes "I" emphatic. It expresses the final resolution which springs in the singer’s heart in view of that dread picture of destruction and those assurances of support. He recoils from the edge of the pit, and eagerly opens his bosom for the promised blessing. Well for us if the upshot of all our meditations on the painful riddle of this unintelligible world, and of all our burdens and of all our experiences and of our observation of other men’s careers, is the absolute determination, "As for me, I will trust in Jehovah!" 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Give ear to my prayer, O God; and hide not Thyself from my supplication. Psalm 55 The compassionable, the commendable, and the censurable in life Homilist. I. THE COMPASSIONABLE. David appears here an object for pity and compassion, as the victim of — 1. Malignant oppression. 2. Overwhelming terror. 3. Foul treachery. II. THE COMMENDABLE. 1. He lays all his troubles before Him who alone could help him. The fact that men in great trouble and danger, whatever be their theoretical beliefs, instinctively appeal to God for help, argues man's intuitive belief —(1) In the existence of a personal God;(2) In the accessibility of a personal God;(3) In the compassion of a personal God. 2. Under all his troubles he strives to maintain his confidence in God.(1) Men have burdens. What anxieties press upon the human soul, making the very frame to stoop, and the heart to break.(2) Men's burdens may be transferred to God. "Cast thy burden upon the Lord." How? By an unbounded confidence in His character and procedure.(3) Those who transfer their burdens on the Lord will be sustained. "He shall sustain thee." God gives men power to bear their burden, and will ultimately remove their burden from them. III. THE CENSURABLE — HIS IMPRECATIONS. Revenge is a moral wrong; and what is morally wrong in the individual can never be right in any relationship or office that the individual may assume, or in any combination into which he may enter. ( Homilist. ) The outcry of a soul in distress T. W. Chambers, D. D. I. THE VIVID COMPLAINT (vers. 1-11). The singer's case is a sad one. His mind is restlessly tossed to and fro. Full of cares and anxieties he nowhere finds solid foothold, but continues distracted, and hence he must pour out his heart in groans and complaints. The reason is the voice of the enemy, that is, the reproaches and calumnies to which he is subjected. But word is accompanied by deed, for there is persecution as well as slander. Overwhelmed with horror, the one thought of the sufferer is escape. He longs for the pinions of a dove — itself the emblem of peace and quiet — that he may fly away and find repose. II. THE TREACHEROUS FRIEND (vers. 12-15). The slanders of an avowed antagonist are seldom so mean and cutting as those of a false friend, and the absence of the elements of ingratitude and treachery renders them less hard to bear. "We can bear from Shimei what we cannot endure from Ahithophel." So, too, we can escape from open foes, but where can one find a hiding-place from treachery? Hence the faithlessness of a professed friend is a form of sin for which there is not even the pretence of excuse. No one defends it or apologizes for it. Yet it occurs, and sometimes, like the case in the psalm, under the sanctions of a religious profession, so that the very altar of God is defiled with hypocrisy. It is right, therefore, that such atrocious wickedness should receive its appropriate recompense. III. THE ANTICIPATED RESULT (vers. 16-23). By a fine antithesis the speaker turns to describe his own course in opposition to that of others. They pursue wickedness and reach its fearful end. He, on the contrary, calls upon God, who is his one refuge in times of distress and anxiety. He lives in an atmosphere of prayer, which is expressed by his mention of the three principal divisions of the natural day. "Complain" and "moan" are the same words that occur in verse 2; only here they are accompanies by the assurance of being heard. God will assuredly redeem him from the heat of the conflict; and the interposition of His arm will be needed, for his adversaries are not few but many, too many for him to deal with alone. God therefore will hear and answer them just as He does to His own servant, but with a serious difference. His own He regards in mercy, others in judgment. God Himself so orders His providence that they are overtaken in their evil ways and plunged into the abyss. On the other hand, the sacred poet closes his lyric with a renewed asseveration of the only ground of his hope. As for me, whatever others may say or think, as for me, I trust in Thee. ( T. W. Chambers, D. D. ) The terrors of death are fallen upon me. Psalm 55:4 On the fear of death T. S. Jones, D. D. I. THE NATURE OF THE FEAR OF DEATH. It appears to arise from an instinct of nature, which is increased and strengthened by observation, reflection, and conscience. A feeling which springs from such sources, however unpleasant or painful it may be, cannot have been implanted in vain in the human breast, and should be treated with seriousness and respect. II. THE USES OF THE FEAR OF DEATH. When God first made known the doctrines and duties of religion, He urged and supported them by the fear of death ( Genesis 2:15 ). In every successive dispensation of religion, its belief and practice have been enforced by the same principle ( Deuteronomy 30:19 ; Ezekiel 18:31 ; Romans 8:13 , etc.). Often has the fear of death led to religious inquiry, to repentance, to conversion, to faith unfeigned, to peace, to hope, to Christ and to God. Often has it awakened men out of spiritual sleep, to trim their lamps, to gird their loins, to be sober, and to hope to the end for the grace which is to be brought at the revelation of Jesus Christ. III. THE ABUSES OF THE FEAR OF DEATH. It was intended, as we have seen, to stimulate and restrain men, as circumstances may require; but it never was intended to enslave them. The Scriptures, however, speak of some, "who, through fear of death, were all their lifetime subject to bondage." Such characters exist, and are examples of the corruption and abuse of this principle. Urged by this principle, some have doubted, and others have denied, the facts of religion; they have corrupted its doctrines, neglected its duties, misapplied its promises, and made of no effect its threatenings. IV. THE MEANS OF REMOVING THE FEAR OF DEATH. That the fear of death is not at all times necessary for the purposes which have just been stated is evident from the doctrines of religion ( John 10:14 ; Hebrews 8:6 ; Hebrews 2:14, 15 ; Romans 8:2 ; Luke 10:17 ; 1 John 4:18 ). St. Paul affirms, that "the sting of death is sin"; that is, it is sin which gives death all its horrors; "Death is the wages or punishment of sin." Whatsoever, then, can remove the sense of guilt from the conscience, and the dread of punishment from the mind, will necessarily remove the fear of death; and if it can farther be made evident that death itself is beneficial, and that it is in reality the commencement of every. thing that is desirable, then its fear will not only be removed, but will be completely destroyed. All this may be effected by the knowledge and belief of the Gospel ( 2 Timothy 1:10 ; Matthew 18:11 ; Matthew 20:28 ; 1 Corinthians 3:18 ; 2 Corinthians 5:19 ; Hebrews 9:14 ; John 3:16 ; 2 Corinthians 5:8 ; 1 Corinthians 15:54, 57 ). V. IMPROVEMENT. 1. Remember that God, in His moral government of the world, can bring good out of evil. 2. Consider the caution which should be employed in removing the fear of death. The fear of death is employed as a means to support life, order, and religion; and, therefore, were it prematurely taken away, it might remove the barriers opposed to rashness, profligacy, and death itself. 3. Beware of the slavish fear of death. 4. Use diligently the means of rising superior to the fear of death. Study, then, the Gospel; yield to the conviction of its truth; live under its influence; cultivate its grace; and you will be enabled to say ( Romans 8:38, 39 ). ( T. S. Jones, D. D. ) The fear of death J. M. Capes. Who is it that doth not fear death? We begin it from our earliest years. From his very infancy the child begins to understand that there are other things besides more bodily pain — a strange, inexplicable feeling comes upon him, which, sooner or later, becomes the explicit fear of death. Whatever may be our position in life, whether we are religious persons, striving, as well as we can, to prepare ourselves for that awful moment, whether we are giddy end worldly, it is impossible to shake off that awful fooling when we think of the moment when the soul passes into the unseen. No man has ever returned from that unseen world, and therefore it is that we are filled with inexplicable dread which makes us shrink from it with a horror we cannot describe. It is true there are certain exceptions to the rule, but they are exceptions more in appearance than in reality, and they do not go any way to prove that the fear of death has not fallen upon all mankind. For instance, there is a peculiar dulness and deadness of feeling which comes upon many persons at the end of a very long illness. It is the same also with persons who live to a considerable old age. It occurs at different times with different persons — sometimes at sixty, seventy, or later. A certain deadness of feeling creeps over all the affections. As the body weakens so does the intelligence lose its power, and so do the feelings lose their exquisite sensibility. Then, again, there are those to whom life is one long, terrible misery. It drives, as we know, some few persons to suicide, for it drives them, as it were, mad. They cannot control themselves. Then there are violent excitements which make persons for the moment utterly disregard death, such as the excitement which many, indeed nearly all, feel on the field of battle. They are afraid in one sense; it is their courage which conquers their distress, and they live and they die like men. It is the same in any other great excitement. Take, for instance, the efforts which may be made for the rescuing of persons from great suffering, or from some horrible death. Imagine the feelings of the men who rush into the flames to save their fellow-creatures. Death is forgotten for the moment; they do not think of it; their earnestness, their passionate desire to save their follow-creatures from this same hideous death overpowers the dread which is in their own hearts. It is the same at sea. We continually read accounts of persons saving others in the midst of a shipwreck. Here, again, it is courage that conquers fear. They do not fear death for themselves, but they fear it for those whom they are going to save, and thus they give themselves to death without a single beat in their lowly hearts. When we consider what is the state of those persons who die quietly in their beds from some sort of sickness, who themselves are fully possessed with a belief in the truth of religion, who have long confided in God's providence, and entertain not the slightest doubt in their own minds that they are going to pass from a world of sin and misery to a life of holiness and blessedness — how is it with them? We find that even with them, notwithstanding all their faith, that death is nothing to be afraid of, still their courage wants keeping up to the point by incessant prayers and texts from the Bible, and all kinds of encouraging influences which may stimulate and help them. This shows that whatever may be our state, whatever our confidence in God, and our trust in the promises, still there is this dread of passing into the dark beyond. And it is not really difficult to understand the practical gain which comes to us all from the presence in our mind of this indescribable fear. First of all, where would the world be if we had not this terror? How many of us would bear to live through the troubles which encompass nearly all the creatures in this world? But, far more than this, the existence of this dread is absolutely necessary to implant in us that conviction of the vast importance of the moment of death, which we find it so difficult to realize. How shall it be to us, not only easy, but natural, to turn with our whole hearts to God at the last moment, when we seem, perhaps, insensible to those who are watching and weeping around us — how shall we, in those last moments, turn our thoughts to God and say, "My Lord, Thou art my God"? Surely it must be by cultivating that continual sense of His presence, and of His goodness, and of His power, which alone can conquer death and make us die in perfect peace. The remedy against death is God; He caused us to live; He implanted in our hearts this mysterious terror; but why did He? He did it that we might learn the more to trust Him as being ever present with us, as being around us, enshrining us, taking us, as it were, in His arms, in the arms of a loving Father. ( J. M. Capes. ) Fearfulness sad trembling are come upon me, and horror hath overwhelmed me. Psalm 55:5 The nervous temperament W. M. Statham, M. A. We are to meditate now on the nervous temperament, and to study especially the relation which the Gospel occupies in relation to it. There may be other anodynes of consolation, physical and mental; but my argument will be this — that the religion of Christ stands in special relationship of succour to those who feel with the psalmist, "I am feeble and sore broken, because of the disquietness of my heart." I. THE TRUE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE IS LIFE IN CHRIST. We must go out of ourselves, and of our "moods" and "feelings," that we may look unto Christ and be saved! Christ is a perfect Brother as well as a perfect Saviour. Redemption is His. Yes! and so is common home-life; so is the gift of daily bread. The great realm of providence is under His sceptre. All things are given into His hands, and He is Lord of all. Be wise. Act with prudence. Resolve with promptitude. Persevere with energy. Rise early with alacrity for the service of the day, but east all anxious thoughts of to-morrow on your Elder Brother. This will be your most perfect anodyne. Other things will help. The bracing air, the oxygen and ozone of the sea coast, may tone your nerves, but it cannot create new ones. The Gospel can do the most, but even that cannot reorganize the physical frame, so fearfully and wonderfully made; but its atmosphere is the best one for bracing the heart and soothing the fretted, irritated nerve. II. THERE ARE SPECIAL ADVENT-HOURS OF TROUBLE. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me. We none of us know how frail we are till trial comes. Advent-hours of trouble do come. Even sin in its first consciousness overwhelms some with fear and trembling, A great horror overwhelms them. The old cry is heard. "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord." How terrible, then, if such souls fall into the hands, not of wise physicians, but of unwise irritators of the evil. At once the anxious soul should be led to Him who says, "Daughter, be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee." And there are seasons when unforeseen calamity comes. No fleecy cloud presages the coming storm, no floating seaweed tells how near the vessel is to the rocks, but is swift as the "bore" that rushes up the waters of the Hooghly from the Ganges, sweeps in with a swell, and engulfs the precious freights of unanchored vessels in its broadening wave. There are seasons when the nerves are made intensively sensitive. The heart is pierced by the coldness and neglect of some familiar friend. The spirit droops. Ingratitude has wounded, neglect has chilled, cruelty has crushed, and enmity has tried to slay reputation and renown. Surely at such times it is heart rest to know the Brother born for adversity, the Friend that stieketh closer than a brother; then is the hour to feel the warm radiance of the love of Christ. III. THERE MAY BE MINISTRATIONS THAT ARE HUMAN AS WELL AS DIVINE. We can perform miracles of healing, not in the old sense, but wonders of restorative power are within our reach. Is it a child that is nervous and sensitive? See to it that you early discern the difference between that little trembling spirit and the stronger brother. Is it a life-companion? See that you do not treat this sensitiveness as a mere weakness to be cured by physical agencies alone — the best curative will be a cheerful mind within working outwards. We have to live and teach the Cross, in its spirit as well as in its doctrine; in its beautiful revelation that He, the Highest and Strongest of all, suffered for us; that He was despised and rejected of men for us; that He gave Himself for us. Remember, then, that you stand in Christian relationship to the timorous, the sensitive, and the nervous, and ever seek to manifest the spirit of Him who would not break the bruised reed. IV. THERE MUST BE A STUDY OF THE DISEASE TO UNDERSTAND THE REMEDIES. We are fearfully as well as wonderfully made; then let us remember how easily nervousness is promoted by self-indulgence and sloth, by morbid books, by strange tales told in childhood, by companionship with those who take foreboding view of life, and by the domination of "fixed ideas " so difficult to shake off. And all cannot afford change of scene and change of clime. It is not in medicine to cure all this. It may alleviate, but it cannot recreate. Earthly appliances are wise in their own way; but if I am right the Gospel of Christ is the relieving power — that alone brings out fully the blessed revelation of the Fatherhood of God. ( W. M. Statham, M. A. ) And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. Psalm 55:6-8 Dissatisfaction the law of life C. Wadsworth, D. D. I. IT IMPELS TO ALL EARTHLY AND MORAL PROGRESS. Arts, sciences, literature, commerce, civilization, are obviously the results of that dissatisfaction with things present and possessed, which urges the soul abroad to discover new fields of thought, new prizes of ambition. We call it disappointment; but it is only the loosing of the dry husk from the swelling germ of life; only the fading of the flower-leaf around the forming fruit-bud; only the breaking of the shell from the stir of glorious wings. Without it man might be sportive as the lamb amid the green fields of earth, but could not soar as the eagle through the firmament of heaven; and therefore everything elevating society above the lowest level of unaspiring savage life — these great cities on the land, those rich argosies on the sea, these homes of peace, these treasures of plenty, these libraries of literature, these galleries of art are all, all only the blossoms and fruit of the bitter root of discontent, the achievements of the restless soul going forth to the battle and keeping step to the music of this plaintive psalm of life, "Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest." II. AN INTIMATION, AN INCITANT IN REGARD OF THE IMMORTAL. The beauties and glories for which man strives in the race and battle are delusions. The glittering rainbow which, to a child, seems a very out-cropping along a black mountain side of metalliferous veins of treasure, is at best but the false show of cold vapour exhaled from some stagnant marsh, and he reaches at it only to grasp chilling and mocking rain-drops. And thus is it with all the fair, bright objects of earth's love and labour. They do not only disappoint, they deceive us. Visions of ravishing beauty rise before our affections, and the heart presses on to them, and bows to them in adoration, delighting to break alabaster vases and scatter costliest incense; but presently all their charm, and beauty, and glory fade away, and we find that our lot on earth is ever "only to make idols and to find them clay." And thus every way and in every condition deceived, our outcry is in bitter anguish, "Alas! poor, beguiled, cheated child of immortality, all your earthly flowers fade, all your heavenly rainbows vanish away." And yet in all this, I say, we may see, if we will, a Divine meaning of love unto immortals. This very deception of our senses, our reason, our affections is a beneficent part of our discipline in their development for the higher life. ( C. Wadsworth, D. D. ) The sigh of David Dean Farrar. Let us consider this sigh of David, which is the sigh of many men — sighs natural indeed and excusable indeed, and like the sigh of Jesus, so far as they are innocently human; but which have in them, alas! but too often, little of the Divine. Turn to your Bibles, and reflect upon the varying moods of so many minds, and you will find there the record of a multitude of these sighs of weariness, of discouragement, of self-disgust, of pain. Most ignoble are they when they are prompted by restlessness and peevishness like that of Jonah, wishing himself dead because God had spared Nineveh, and because God's mercy had triumphed over his paltry personal opinion; or by a pessimism like that of the conceited Solomon, which sees nothing in life except a universal emptiness; or by a black, suicidal despair, like that of Judas Iscariot, walking under the intolerable glare of illumination flung upon conscience by accomplished crime. But even the nobler spirits sometimes succumb for a moment to this merely selfish weakness, and have sighed, not only with the pure pity of Jesus, but with the impatience and short-sightedness of simple men. Moses had as great and mighty a heart as ever beat in any human breast, yet he exclaims ( Numbers 11:11-15 ). What a sigh is there! There never breathed a more dauntless prophet than Elijah, yet he sat under a juniper tree in the wilderness and requested that he might die ( 1 Kings 19:4 ). What a deep sigh is there! And Job was very patient, yet under the pitiless storm of sin and suffering even Sob broke down and cursed the day of his birth. And Jeremiah, although he had a natural diffidence of character, yet when Pashur smote him and put him in the stocks, he burst into a wild cry ( Jeremiah 20:18 ). And do not we seem to hear the sigh of the mighty Baptist ( Matthew 11:3 ). Nay, even Paul, though nothing could wring such sighs from his indomitable heart, yet knows that "to depart and be with Christ is far better." Here, then, you have the weariness and discouragement of the noblest of mankind. It is not generally because of some personal injury, but it is either because the world is very evil ( Psalm 119:136 ); or else because life is very full of trials ( Genesis 47:9 ); or, again, because the work is very dreary ( Exodus 5:23 ). Yes; all good men have had to fight with almost impenetrable stupidity, with hard pharisaism, and with religious and irreligious self-conceit; and the Bible is full of sighs. Now, one of the elements in Scripture that makes it so inestimably valuable is that it is so essentially human, so profoundly true to nature, so inartificial, so simple, so passionate, as all true history and all true poetry ought to be. These kings and heroes and prophets were just such men as ourselves, their hearts beating like our hearts, their joys and sorrows, their hopes and fears, even such as ours; the same fights of weariness and discouragement to fight that we find in secular history. We find it in literature; we find it in our own hearts — it is a part of our life. We get tired of the daily sameness of life. The rivers flow to the sea, yet the sea is not full. We are tired of the unrelenting past, tired of the dreary present, tired of the uncertain future. We are tired of the weary struggle in our own heart; the to-and-fro conflicting witnesses of impulse and repression; broad, rejoicing, sunlit tides of spiritual emotion, leaving behind them the flat, cozy shores of ebbing enthusiasm. The old historian said thai no man had ever lived yet with. out coming to the day in his life when he cared nothing if he were to see no to-morrow. Again and again we feel inclined to cry at the end of another year, "Eternal, be Thou my refuge!" Bad men feel it. Says one, "I have dragged on to thirty-three. What have all those years left to me? Nothing except three and thirty." A godless experience curdles at once into acrid pessimism. The condition of such is so utterly wretched that total annihilation would be preferable, and they hold that the creation and the existence of the world is a fundamental misfortune. But if this life were everything, many would say the same! We find this hopelessness and dissatisfaction in every rank of life. Now it is Diocletian, deciding that planting cabbages at Salons is better than ruling the world at Byzantium; now it is Severus, saying he has been everything in life, from a common position to that of an emperor, and nothing is of any good; now it is St. , saying that man's earthly happiness is by the streams of Babylon — let him sit down by them and weep; now it is good Richard Hooker, saying he had lived so long in the world, and found it such, that he had long been preparing to leave it; now it is Luther , crying, "I am weary of life: if this can be called life, there is nothing much worse: I am utterly weary: I pray Thee, O Lord, come forth and carry me hence"; now it is Whitefield , crying, "O Lord! I am not weary of Thy work, but in Thy work; let me speak for Thee once more, then seal Thy truth and let me die." When Montesquieu was on his death-bed a forward, uninvited clergyman thrust himself to his bedside when another clergyman had left him, and said to him in a conversant sort of way, "Sir, are you truly conscious of the greatness of God? Yes," said the dying philosopher, "and of the littleness of man;" and so he died; and what a sigh was there! It always seems to me worth while to recognize facts, to bring them out into the full light of consciousness, and then to face them. And this being the fact respecting human life, where is the remedy? The great resource in every perplexity is to look to Christ. If we look to our great Example, we shall see what to do. He, too, though sinless, was forced to sigh for the sad world of sin and death; but notice, the sigh had been scarcely uttered when once more He was engaged in works of mercy and thoughtful care. To sigh is sometimes natural, but to waste time in sighing, to suffer ourselves to be absorbed in the dark side of life, to exclude ourselves from its many and estimable gladnesses, is unthoughtful and useless. However hard the struggle against ignorance, and against pharisaism, and against stupidity, and against malice, and against robbery, and against wrong, and against oppression, and against sill, no good and great life will ever suffer itself to be crippled by conquerable melancholy. If we sigh for our own weakness and sins, we cannot, indeed, fly to ourselves, but we can fly to the grace of God and amend ourselves. If we sigh for our surroundings, no wings of a dove, indeed, can bear us away from the dwellings of Meshach and the tents of Kedar; but, by God's grace, we may help to make them better and happier places. The lessons of Scripture, the lessons of the life of Christ, the lessons of human experience alike teach us "to labour and to wait." They combine to tell us, to every one of us alike, for sorrow and disaster, for weariness and discouragement, God has given four great and perfect remedies, on which I would say a very few last words. One remedy is action: God taught it to Moses. "Why criest thou unto Me? Speak to the children of Israel that they go forward." While there is anything to be done, the time spent in sorrow is worse than waste. "The wings of a dove!" No, let us rather look for wings that we may fly in the path of God's commandment. Let us, with the ancient rabbi, pray that we may be bold as the leopard, bounding as the stag, brave as the lion, to do the will of our Father in heaven, that we may work on. Said Mendelssohn, "For me, too, the hour of rest will come: do the next thing." Oh! a grand motto was that. And that was a good motto, "Work here, rest elsewhere, wipe thy tears, cease thy sighing, do thy work, the day is short, the work is abundant, the labourers are few, the reward is great." Another remedy is patience. God is patient. He has borne with man's falsehood and littleness and disobedience, for no one knows how many thousand years. Cannot we, too, wait, if we do well and suffer for it? Cannot we take it patiently? Patient continuance in well-doing — there is a grand remedy for idle tears! ( Psalm 37:7 ). The third remedy is faith. Jesus, as He sighed, looked up to heaven. Two things alone can finally cure the malady of occasional depression, and those two things are God and death; and faith looks forward fearlessly to death. Is our sigh for our own work? "Oh, cast thy burden on the Lord," etc. Is our sigh for the world? We did not make the world, and He who made it will guide. One day, when St. Francis was laying before God his troubles and disquietudes, the answer came to him, "Poor little man, why dost thou trouble thyself? I, who made thee the shepherd of My order, knowest thou not that I am its Protector? If those I have called upon go, I will put others in their place, and if none existed, I would cause them to be born." "I cannot mend the world," said Luther . "If I thought I could, I would be the veriest ass living. Thou canst mend it, O my God!" I have mentioned action, patience, faith, and the last remedy is hope. It is a good thing that a man should both hope and patiently wait for the salvation of the Lord. Things are rarely as bad as they look to us. Elijah cries, "I, even I, only am left," and God tells him that he has "seven thousand who have not bowed the knee to Baal." A young man is terror-stricken in a besieged city, and Elijah shows him bow all round are the protecting chariots of horses and fire. He who cares for His little birds and pastures, His cattle and waters and His flowers, shall He not care for the souls of men? Man's grief is but his grandeur in disguise, and discontent his immortality. To us has been born a Saviour, Christ the Lord. ( Dean Farrar. ) Should heaven be sought as a distant Homilist. Denizens of the Christian world abound, who, with dissatisfied spirits, not only disregard, but almost despise, the profusion of good which Almighty Love has lavishly spread around and about them, and fix their anxious eyes upon a heaven that lies beyond the grave, and up in the starry regions of space. This state of mind is as objectionable in its nature, and as pernicious in its influence, as it is popular and abounding. The latter state of mind — that embodied in the prayer which Christ gave His disciples — is the more right and wholesome state of mind to be cherished in relation to heaven. I. THE ONE IS MORE REASONABLE THAN THE OTHER. The state of mind which seeks to get heaven out of our sphere, activities, and circumstances, here on this green and lovely earth, seems to us far more rational than the state of mind which is constantly looking away for it in the invisible and remote. 1. Man has in an inexhaustible degree all the elements of heaven here. 2. These inexhaustible elements are here and now available. All depends upon the moral state of the heart. In privations, sufferings, persecutions, sainted men in all ages have felt the transports, and hymned the strains of the upper heavens. Which, then, is the more reasonable state of mind? The one that comparatively overlooks, and but very partially enjoys, the infinite sources of happiness available to us in this life, in sentimental aspirations for foreign and imaginary joys; or the one, that through faith in Christ, so enters into the blessed activities and joys of the present, as to indulge no restless longings for the future? II. THE ONE IS A MORE USEFUL STATE OF MIND THAN THE OTHER. 1. The one leads to a more cheerful life than the other. It gives sunshine to the man; his spirit is genial, and his conduct glows with a radiant life. Having a soul full of goodness, he sees good in everything; being harmonious within, he hears music all round him; his "soul delights itself in fatness"; he is "blessed in his deed." Like a man marching to music, he treads the path of life with a joyous step. 2. The one leads to a more practical life than the other. The man who finds his heaven here by having the true love, doing the right work, and living the Christ-like life, is bringing down heaven to the men and women around him. His life is a stream gushing from the fountain of infinite love, and it touches into heavenly life and beauty all within its sphere. His life is a mirror, which reflects on all around the glories of the upper world. III. THE ONE IS MORE SCRIPTURAL THAN THE OTHER. 1. Heaven consists in the inner state of the soul and not in external circumstances. "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." They are blessed. They see God now. 2. The grand Work of man in this world should be to promote this state of soul, both in himself and in his fellow-men. IV. THE ONE IS MORE CERTAIN OF REALIZATION THAN THE OTHER. He who seeks happiness as an end, is like a man running to catch his shadow; the fleeter he runs, the fleeter runs h

55:1-8 In these verses we have, 1. David praying. Prayer is a salve for every sore, and a relief to the spirit under every burden. 2. David weeping. Griefs are thus, in some measure, lessened, while those increase that have no vent given them. David in great alarm. We may well suppose him to be so, upon the breaking out of Absalom's conspiracy, and the falling away of the people. Horror overwhelmed him. Probably the remembrance of his sin in the matter of Uriah added much to the terror. When under a guilty conscience we must mourn in our complaint, and even strong believers have for a time been filled with horror. But none ever was so overwhelmed as the holy Jesus, when it pleased the Lord to put him to grief, and to make his soul an offering for our sins. In his agony he prayed more earnestly, and was heard and delivered; trusting in him, and following him, we shall be supported under, and carried through all trials. See how David was weary of the treachery and ingratitude of men, and the cares and disappointments of his high station: he longed to hide himself in some desert from the fury and fickleness of his people. He aimed not at victory, but rest; a barren wilderness, so that he might be quiet. The wisest and best of men most earnestly covet peace and quietness, and the more when vexed and wearied with noise and clamour. This makes death desirable to a child of God, that it is a final escape from all the storms and tempests of this world, to perfect and everlasting rest. 55:9-15 No wickedness so distresses the believer, as that which he witnesses in those who profess to be of the church of God. Let us not be surprised at the corruptions and disorders of the church on earth, but long to see the New Jerusalem. He complains of one that had been very industrious against him. God often destroys the enemies of the church by dividing them. And an interest divided against itself cannot long stand. The true Christian must expect trials from professed friends, from those with whom he has been united; this will be very painful; but by looking unto Jesus we shall be enabled to bear it. Christ was betrayed by a companion, a disciple, an apostle, who resembled Ahithophel in his crimes and doom. Both were speedily overtaken by Divine vengeance. And this prayer is a prophecy of the utter, the everlasting ruin, of all who oppose and rebel against the Messiah. 55:16-23 In every trial let us call upon the Lord, and he will save us. He shall hear us, and not blame us for coming too often; the oftener the more welcome. David had thought all were against him; but now he sees there were many with him, more than he supposed; and the glory of this he gives to God, for it is he that raises us up friends, and makes them faithful to us. There are more true Christians, and believers have more real friends, than in their gloomy hours they suppose. His enemies should be reckoned with, and brought down; they could not ease themselves of their fears, as David could, by faith in God. Mortal men, though ever so high and strong, will easily be crushed by an eternal God. Those who are not reclaimed by the rod of affliction, will certainly be brought down to the pit of destruction. The burden of afflictions is very heavy, especially when attended with the temptations of Satan; there is also the burden of sin and corruption. The only relief under it is, to look to Christ, who bore it. Whatever it is that thou desirest God should give thee, leave it to him to give it in his own way and time. Care is a burden, it makes the heart stoop. We must commit our ways and works to the Lord; let him do as seemeth him good, and let us be satisfied. To cast our burden upon God, is to rest upon his providence and promise. And if we do so, he will carry us in the arms of his power, as a nurse carries a child; and will strengthen our spirits by his Spirit, so that they shall sustain the trial. He will never suffer the righteous to be moved; to be so shaken by any troubles, as to quit their duty to God, or their comfort in him. He will not suffer them to be utterly cast down. He, who bore the burden of our sorrows, desires us to leave to him to bear the burden of our cares, that, as he knows what is best for us, he may provide it accordingly. Why do not we trust Christ to govern the world which he redeemed?