聖書

Expositor's Bible Commentary Psalm 39:1 To the chief Musician, even to Jeduthun, A Psalm of David. I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue: I will keep my mouth with a bridle, while the wicked is before me. Psalm 39:1-13 PROTRACTED suffering, recognised as chastisement for sin, had wasted the psalmist’s strength. It had been borne for a while in silence, but the rush of emotion had burst the floodgates. The psalm does not repeat the words which forced themselves from the hot heart, but preserves for us the calmer flow which followed. It falls into four parts, the first three of which contain three verses each, and the fourth is expanded into four, divided into two couples. In the first part ( Psalm 39:1-3 ) the frustrated resolve of silence is recorded. Its motive was fear of sinning in speech "while the wicked is before me." That phrase is often explained as meaning that the sight of the prosperity of the godless in contrast with his own sorrows tempted the singer to break out into arraigning God’s providence, and that he schooled himself to look at their insolent ease unmurmuringly. But the psalm has no other references to other men’s flourishing condition: and it is more in accordance with its tone to suppose that his own pains, and not their pleasures, prompted to the withheld words. The presence of "the wicked" imposed on his devout heart silence as a duty. We do not complain of a friend’s conduct in the hearing of his enemies. God’s servants have to watch their speech about Him when godless ears are listening, lest hasty words should give occasion for malicious glee or blasphemy. So, for God’s honour, the psalmist put restraint on himself. The word rendered "bridle" in Psalm 39:2 by the A.V. and R.V. is better taken as muzzle, for a muzzle closes the lips, and a bridle does not. The resolution thus energetically expressed was vigorously carried out: "I made myself dumb in still submission; I kept silence." And what came of it? "My sorrow was stirred." Grief suppressed is increased, as all the world knows. The closing words of Psalm 39:2 b (lit. apart from good) are obscure, and very variously understood, some regarding them as an elliptical form of "from good and bad," and expressing completeness of silence; others taking "the good" to mean "the law, or the praise of God, or good fortune, or such words as would serve to protect the singer from slanders." "But the preposition here employed, when it follows a verb meaning silence, does not introduce that concerning which silence is kept, but a negative result of silence" (Hupfeld). The meaning, then, is best given by some such paraphrase as "joylessly" or "and I had no comfort" (R.V). The hidden sorrow gnawed beneath the cloak like a fire in a hollow tree; it burned fiercely unseen, and ate its way at last into sight. Locked lips make hearts hotter. Repression of utterance only feeds the fire, and sooner or later the "muzzle" is torn off, and pent-up feeling breaks into speech, often the wilder for the violence done to nature by the attempt to deny it its way. The psalmist’s motive was right, and in a measure his silence was so; but his resolve did not at first go deep enough. It is the heart, not the mouth, that has to be silenced. To build a dam across a torrent without diminishing the sources that supply its waters only increases weight and pressure, and ensures a muddy flood when it bursts. Does the psalm proceed to recount what its author said when he broke silence? It may appear so at first sight. On the other hand, the calm prayer which follows, beginning with Psalm 39:4 , is not of the character of the wild and whirling words which were suppressed for fear of sinning, nor does the fierce fire of which the psalm has been speaking flame in it. It seems, therefore, more probable that those first utterances, in which the overcharged heart relieved itself, and which were tinged with complaint and impatience, are not preserved, and did not deserve to be, and that the pathetic, meditative petitions of the rest of the psalm succeeded them, as after the first rush of the restrained torrent comes a stiller flow. Such a prayer might well have been offered "while the wicked is before me," and might have been laid to heart by them. Its thoughts are as a cool hand laid on the singer’s hot heart. They damp the fire burning in him. There is no surer remedy for inordinate sensibility to outward sorrows than fixed convictions of life’s brevity and illusoriness; and these are the two thoughts which the prayer casts into sweet, sad music. It deals with commonplaces of thought, which poets and moralists have been singing and preaching since the world began, in different tones and with discordant applications, sometimes with fierce revolt against the inevitable, sometimes with paralysing consciousness of it, sometimes using these truths as arguments for base pleasures and aims, sometimes toying with them as occasions for cheap sentiment and artificial pathos, sometimes urging them as motives for strenuous toil. But of all the voices which have ever sung or prophesied of life’s short span and shadowy activities, none is nobler, saner, healthier, and calmer than this psalmist’s. The stately words in which he proclaimed the transiency of all earthly things are not transient. They are "nothing but a breath," but they have outlasted much that seemed solid, and their music will sound as long as man is on his march through time. Our "days" have a "measure"; they are a limited period, and the Measurer is God. But this fleeting creature man has an obstinate fancy of his permanence, which is not all bad indeed-since without it there would be little continuity of purpose or concentration of effort-but may easily run to extremes and hide the fact that there is an end. Therefore the prayer for Divine illumination is needed, that we may not be ignorant of that which we know well enough, if we would bethink ourselves. The solemn convictions of Psalm 39:5 are won by the petitions of Psalm 39:4 . He who asks God to make him know his end has already gone far towards knowing it. If he seeks to estimate the "measure" of his days, he will soon come to the clear conviction that it is only the narrow space that may be covered by one or two breadths of a hand. So do noisy years shrink when heaven’s chronology is applied to them. A lifetime looks long, but set against God’s eternal years, it shrivels to an all but imperceptible point, having position, but not magnitude. The thought of brevity naturally draws after it that of illusoriness. Just because life is so frail does it assume the appearance of being futile. Both ideas are blended in the metaphors of "a breath" and "a shadow." There is a solemn earnestness in the three-fold "surely," confirming each clause of the seer’s insight into earth’s hollowness. How emphatically he puts it in the almost pleonastic language, "Surely nothing but a breath is every man, stand he ever so firm." The truth proclaimed is undeniably certain. It covers the whole ground of earthly life, and it includes the most prosperous and firmly established. "A breath" is the very emblem of transiency and of unsubstantiality. Every solid body can be melted and made gaseous vapour, if heat enough is applied. They who habitually bring human life "before Thee" dissolve into vapour the solid-seeming illusions which cheat others, and save their own lives from being but a breath by clearly recognising that they are. The Selah at the end of Psalm 39:4 does not here seem to mark a logical pause in thought nor to coincide with the strophe division, but emphasises by some long, drawn, sad notes the teaching of the words. The thought runs on unbroken, and Psalm 39:6 is closely linked to Psalm 39:5 by the repeated "surely" and "breath" as well as in subject. The figure changes from breath to "shadow," literally "image," meaning not a sculptured likeness, but an eidolon , or unsubstantial apparition. "The glories of our birth and state Are shadows, not substantial things"; and all the movements of men coming and going in the world are but like a dance of shadows. As they are a breath, so are their aims. All their hubbub and activity is but like the bustle of ants on their hill-immense energy and toil, and nothing coming of it all. If any doubt remained as to the correctness of this judgment of the aimlessness of man’s toil, one fact would confirm the psalmist’s sentence, viz ., that the most successful man labours to amass, and has to leave his piles for another whom he does not know, to gather into his storehouses and to scatter by his prodigality. There may be an allusion in the words to harvesting work. The sheaves are piled up, but in whose barn are they. to be housed? Surely, if the grower and reaper is not the ultimate owner, his toil has been for a breath. All this is no fantastic pessimism. Still less is it an account of what life must be. If any man’s is nothing but toiling for a breath, and if he himself is nothing but a breath, it is his own fault. They who are joined to God have "in their embers something that doth live"; and if they labour for Him, they do not labour for vanity, nor do they leave their possessions when they die. The psalmist has no reference to a future life, but the immediately following strophe shows that, though he knew that his days were few, he knew, too, that if his hope were set on God he was freed from the curse of illusoriness and grasped no shadow, but the Living Substance, who would make his life blessedly real and pour into it substantial good. The effect of such convictions of life’s brevity and emptiness should be to throw the heart back on God. In the third part of the psalm ( Psalm 39:7-9 ) a higher strain sounds. The singer turns from his dreary thoughts, which might so easily become bitter ones, to lay hold on God. What should earth’s vanity teach but God’s sufficiency? It does not need the light of a future life to be flashed upon this mean, swiftly vanishing present in order to see it "apparelled in celestial light." Without that transforming conception, it is still possible to make it great and real by bringing it into conscious connection with God; and if hope and effort are set on Him amid all the smallnesses and perishablenesses of the outer world, hope will not chase a shadow, nor effort toil for very vanity. The psalmist sought to calm his hot heart by the contemplation of his end, but that is a poor remedy for perturbation, and grief unless it leads to actual contact with the one enduring Substance. It did so with him, and therefore "grief grew calm," just because "hope was" not "dead." To preach the vanity, of all earthly things to heavy hearts is but pouring vinegar on nitre, unless it is accompanied with the great antidote to all sad and depreciating views of life: the thought that in it men may reach their hands beyond the time film that enmeshes them and grasp the unchanging God. This psalm has no reference to life beyond the grave; but it finds in present communion by waiting and hope, emancipation from the curse of fleeting triviality which haunts every life separated from Him, like that which the Christian hope of immortality gives. God is the significant figure which gives value to the row of ciphers of which every life is without Him made up. Blessed are they who are driven by earth’s vanity and drawn by God’s fulness of love and power to fling themselves into His arms and nestle there! The strong recoil of the devout soul from a world which it has profoundly felt to be shadowy, and its great venture of faith, which is not a venture after all, were never more nobly or simply expressed than in that quiet "And now"-things being so-"what wait I for? My hope"-in contrast with the false directions which other men’s takes-"to Thee it turns." The burden is still on the psalmist’s shoulders. His sufferings are not ended, though his trust has taken the poison out of them. Therefore his renewed grasp of God leads at once to prayer for deliverance from his "transgressions," in which cry may be included both sins and their chastisement. The fool is the name of a class, not of an individual, and, as always in Scripture, denotes moral and religious obliquity, not intellectual feebleness. The expression is substantially equivalent to "the wicked" of Psalm 39:1 , and a similar motive to that which there induced the psalmist to be silent is here urged as a plea with God for the sufferer’s deliverance. Taunts launched at a good man suffering will glance off him and appear to reach his God. Psalm 39:9 pleads as a reason for God’s deliverance the psalmist’s silence under what he recognised as God’s chastisement. The question arises whether this is the same silence as is referred to in Psalm 39:1-2 , and many authorities take that view. But that silence was broken by a rush of words from a hot heart, and, if the account of the connection in the psalm given above is correct, by a subsequent more placid meditation and prayer. It would be irrelevant to recur to it here, especially as a plea with God. But there are two kinds of silence under His chastisements: one which may have for its motive regard to His honour, but is none the less tinged with rebellious thoughts, and brings no good to the sufferer, and another which is silence of heart and will, not of lips only, and soothes sorrow which the other only aggravated. and puts out the fire which the other fanned. Submission to God’s hand discerned behind all visible causes is the blessed silence. "To lie still, let Him strike home, and bless the rod," is best. And when that is attained, the uses of chastisement are accomplished; and we may venture to ask God to burn the rod. The desire to be freed from its blow is not inconsistent with such submission. This prayer does not break the silence, though it may seem to do so, for this is the privilege of hearts that love God: that they can breathe desires to Him without His holding them unsubmissive to His supreme will. The last part ( Psalm 39:10-13 ) is somewhat abnormally long, and falls into two parts separated by "Selah," which musical note does not here coincide with the greater divisions. The two pairs of verses are both petitions for removal of sickness, either real or figurative. Their pleading persistence presents substantially the same prayer and supports it by the same considerations of man’s transiency. The Pattern of perfect resignation thrice "prayed, saying the same words"; and His suffering followers may do the same, and yet neither sin by impatience, nor weary the Judge by their continual coming. The psalmist sees in his pains God’s "stroke," and pleads the effects already produced on him as a reason for cessation. He is already "wasted by the assault of God’s hand." One more buffet, and he feels that he must die. It is bold for a sufferer to say to God, "Hold! enough!" but all depends on the tone in which it is said. It may be presumption, or it may be a child’s free speech, not in the least trenching on a Father’s authority. The sufferer underrates his capacity of endurance, and often thinks, "I can bear no straw more"; but yet he has to bear it. Yet the psalmist’s cry rests upon a deep truth: that God cannot mean to crush; therefore he goes on to a deeper insight into the meaning of that "stroke." It is not the attack of an enemy, but the "correction" of a friend. If men regarded sorrows and sicknesses as rebukes for iniquity, they would better understand why sinful life, separated from God, is so fleeting. The characteristic ground tone of the Old Testament echoes here, according to which "the wages of sin is death." The commonplace of man’s frailty receives a still more tragic colouring when thus regarded as a consequence of his sin. The psalmist has learned it in relation to his own sufferings, and, because he sees it so clearly, he pleads that these may cease. He looks on his own wasted form; and God’s hand seems to him to have taken away all that made it or life desirable and fair, as a moth would gnaw a garment. What a daring figure to compare the mightiest with the feeblest, the Eternal with the very type of evanescence! The second subdivision of this part ( Psalm 39:12-13 ) reiterates the former with some difference of tone. There is a beautiful climax of earnestness in the psalmist’s appeal to God. His prayer swells into crying, and that again melts into tears, which go straight to the great Father’s heart. Weeping eyes are never turned to heaven in vain; the gates of mercy open wide when the hot drops touch them. But his fervour of desire is not this suppliant’s chief argument with God. His meditation has won for him deeper insight into that transiency which at first he had only laid like ice on his heart, to cool its feverish heat. He sees now more clearly, by reason of his effort to turn away his hope from earth and fix it on God, that his brief life has an aspect in which its brevity is not only calming, but exalting, and gives him a claim on God. whose guest he is while here, and with whom he has guest rights, whether his stay is longer or shorter. "The land is mine, for ye are strangers and sojourners with me". { Leviticus 25:23 } That which was true in a special way of Israel’s tenure of the soil is true for the individual, and true forever. All men are God’s guests; and if we betake ourselves behind the curtains of His tent, we have rights of shelter and sustenance. All the bitterness of the thought of the brevity of life is sucked out of it by such a confidence. If a man dwells with God, his Host will care for the needs, and not be indifferent to the tears, of His guest. The long generations which have come and gone like shadows are not a melancholy procession out of nothing through vanity into nothing again, nor "disquieted in vain," if they are conceived as each in turn lodging for a little while in that same ancestral home which the present generation inhabits. It has seen many sons succeeding their fathers as its tenants, but its stately strength grows not old, and its gates are open today as they have been in all generations. The closing prayer in Psalm 39:13 has a strange sound. "Look away from me" is surely a singular petition, and the effect of God’s averting His face is not less singular. The psalmist thinks that it will be his regaining cheerfulness and brightness, for he uses a word which means to clear up or to brighten, as the sky becomes blue again after storm. The light of God’s face makes men’s faces bright. "They cried unto God, and were lightened," not because He looked away from them, but because He regarded them. But the intended paradox gives the more emphatic expression to the thought that the psalmist’s pains came from God’s angry look, and it is that which he asks may be turned from him. That mere negative withdrawal, however, would have no cheering power, and is not conceivable as unaccompanied by the turning to the suppliant of God’s loving regard. The devout psalmist had no notion of a neutral God, nor could he ever be contented with simple cessation of the tokens of Divine displeasure. The ever-outflowing Divine activity must reach every man. It may come in one or other of the two forms of favour or of displeasure, bur come it will; and each man can determine which side of that pillar of fire and cloud is turned to him. On one side is the red glare of anger, on the other the white lustre of love. If the one is turned from, the other is turned to us. Not less remarkable is the prospect of going away into non-being which the last words of the psalm present as a piteous reason for a little gleam of brightness being vouchsafed in this span-long life. There is no vision here of life beyond the grave; but, though there is not, the singer "throws himself into the arms of God." He does not seek to solve the problem of life by bringing the future in to redress the balance of good and evil. To him the solution lies in present communion with a present God, in whose house he is a guest now, and whose face will make his life bright, however short it may be. The Expositor's Bible Text Courtesy of BibleSupport.com . Used by Permission.

I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I offend not in my tongue; I will keep my mouth as it were with a bridle. Psalm 39 Thought and prayer under trial Homilist. I. THOUGHT UNDER TRIAL. 1. Its utterance repressed. "I said, I will take heed to my ways."(1) This effort as repression was pious. Why did he essay to "muzzle" his tongue? "That I sin not." He felt in all probability that the circumstances which brought on his sufferings had awakened within him such sceptical ideas concerning the rectitude or benevolence of the Divine procedure, the utterance of which, in the ears of the wicked, while they were "before him," would be highly sinful.(2) This effort at repression was painful. Imprisoned thoughts, like pent-up floods, increase in turbulent force; the more they are suppressed, the more they heave, swell, and battle.(3) This effort at repression was temporary. His thoughts became at last irrepressible. "I spake with my tongue." To whom? Not to ungodly men — this he resolved not to do because it was sinful — but to the great Jehovah. 2. Its attention arrested. The character of life. Its terminableness. Its frailty. Its brevity. Its vanity. Its emptiness. Its disquietudes. Its worthless labours. ( Homilist. ) The unspoken judgment of mankind J. B. Mozley, D. D. Scripture speaks in two different ways about judging others. On the one hand, it says, "Judge nothing before the time, till the day of the Lord come;" on the other hand, it says, "He that is spiritual judgeth all things;" and we are told to regard the Holy Spirit, of which we partake, as a spirit of discernment. Nor, if this discernment exists in Christians, can we confine it to distinguishing only flagrant sinners from well-conducted men? No; it extends much farther than that; it goes much deeper. Christians who are endowed with the spirit of holiness, and who have with that gift the spirit also of wisdom and knowledge, can see where the heart is right in others, and where it is not. This is part of that very unconscious power which lies in goodness as such; for goodness finds not goodness in others. On the other hand, disguise it how they will, the contrary character is detected, and repels. So that goodness, as such, has a true wisdom in it. But, perhaps, the great law with respect to judging which is laid down in our texts refers to the delivery of the judgment, it is not to be allowed full expression and manifestation. The judgment will be an outspoken one, ours may not be so. Scripture holds before us the terror of a dreadful exposure when "the secrets of all hearts shall be made known" ( Luke 8 ; Luke 12:3 ). But the tongue of intermediate judgment is tied. There is an embargo laid upon the delivery of it. This, then, is the meaning of "the bridle while the ungodly is in my sight." A judgment of some kind is implied, but it is to be a mute judgment. In this temper of the psalmist, then, we observe first, a greater strength than belongs to the other temper of impetuous and premature expression — strength not only of self-control, but of actual feeling and passion. Such a state of mind must needs be stronger, since it does not require the proof which immediate, impetuous expression affords. It is because they feel they want this support of outward expression that therefore men make this outward demonstration. The force of our language reacts upon ourselves, and our minds are encouraged by it, so that their own inward conviction does not give way. They want their verdict sustained. Hence this mute form of judgment must needs be strong. The circumstances of the world are such, that this greater strength of feeling, this silent form of judgment, is positively needed to meet them. For consider what the perpetual expression of judgment, what the constant reply to the challenge of the other side would entail. This challenge is always going on. It is impossible to live in the world without constantly hearing admiration and praise lavished on that which we know in our hearts to be hollow and inferior in character.. The world generally accepts success as a test; indeed, popular judgment is almost obliged to be exceedingly rough. It must take men as they stand, and accept the mechanical praise which flows from a law of public opinion. And, indeed, the exposure of the bad in this world is all but impossible. But if no judgment, however true in the sanctuary of the heart, can declare itself, by the very conditions of society, this is a clear revelation of the will of God that such a manifestation must not be attempted, and that to attempt it would be to forestall His divine purpose. And then we have nothing to fall back upon but the rule of the psalmist — the rule of a mute and silent judgment. "I will keep my mouth, as it were," etc. But such men do not escape judgment altogether. The good judge them, and make up their minds about them, though it be unuttered. Is there not an unspoken sentence upon him, a silent verdict in the consciences of the righteous and holy which goes deeper than "explanations"? And is not this mute verdict an anticipation of that judgment which will not be silent but outspoken — the disclosure and manifestation of the human heart which will take place at the last day? Nay, and is there not even a judgment in Iris own heart which he does not pass altogether comfortably? Is there not a voice within him which would speak if he would let it, and did not suppress it; and which, if it did speak, would scatter to the winds all his refuges of lies. Let us fear that. ( J. B. Mozley, D. D. ) Evil speaking, and the proper means to prevent it R. Fiddes. I. THE REASONABLENESS OF THIS RESOLUTION, and particularly with respect to us, as Christians, not to offend with the tongue. 1. Evil speaking brings a great scandal upon our holy religion, as it is so directly opposite to the genius and spirit of it, to the many express precepts which occur in it, and that goodness and candour of temper which so remarkably discovered itself in our blessed Saviour. 2. The injustice of this crime with respect to others.(1) It is a very evident truth, that according to the worth of anything, wherein we invade another man's right, the wrong we do him is proportionably heightened. It is no less certain that of all the external advantages and comforts of human life, there are none of greater importance to a man than a good name.(2) Besides defrauding a man of reputation and honour, this crime is for the most part highly injurious and prejudicial to him with respect to his other interests, and very often proves an injury to the public. For, as Plutarch well observes, the reputation of honour and worth affords one a thousand opportunities of doing good in the world, by opening to him an easy passage to the hearts and affections of men; whereas, says he, if a man lie under any calumnies or suspicions, he cannot exert his virtues, be he never so well qualified, to the benefit of others, without committing a kind of violence upon them.(3) That which heightens the injustice of this crime the more, is, that it is so difficult to make the injured party any reparation. A scandal, when it is once gone abroad, is not easily recalled; but as a poisonous vapour sometimes infects a whole city or region, so a calumny, once set forward, and meeting with so general an inclination to provoke it, is not only apt to spread itself wide, but the further it spreads, the more it usually increases its malignity. 3. The impudence of those who are guilty of this crime.(1) There are few persons who give their tongues a general liberty of scandal and defamation that do not irritate others to take the same freedom with them.(2) The folly and imprudence of this vice of evil speaking appears further from hence, that it seldom if ever answers one great end we propose to ourselves by it. We are apt to imagine that by lessening or throwing dirt upon other people, we set ourselves off to greater advantage, and appear in a better light; but we ought to consider the world has, at that very moment, an eye upon our conduct, and the same right to make a judgment of it, as we have to sit upon the actions of other people. And that it will judge of us, not from our declaiming against their vices or defects, and the elevation we would thereby give ourselves above them; but from our personal qualifications or behaviour.(3) Persons who give themselves the liberty to reflect upon the criminal actions and behaviour of other people, or to charge them perhaps with crimes they never thought of, are frequently observed to speak their own inclinations, and to give some visible and plain hints what they themselves would have been disposed to do under the same circumstances of temptation. II. THE PROPER METHOD OF MAKING THIS RESOLUTION GOOD. 1. To take heed to our ways implies in general that we keep a strict and watchful eye upon all our actions, that we frequently examine and call them over, and impartially state accounts between God and our own consciences. 2. But I shall consider this expression in its more restrained sense, as it imports the great duty of self-reflection or examination. A duty which, if we discharge with that care and frequency we ought, we shall have less time and less inclination to concern ourselves about the failings or disorders of other people.(1) We shall have less time for this criminal amusement; because, by calling our own ways frequently to remembrance, we shall discover how many opportunities of religious improvement we have trifled away already, or perhaps abused to very wicked and irreligious purposes; and that it concerns us therefore, by a more strict and constant application to the duties of religion for the future, to use our utmost endeavours towards redeeming the time.(2) By frequently examining into the state of our own souls, we shall also have less inclination to censure the conduct of others. By considering how apt we ourselves are to be tempted, and how easily we have been overcome by temptation, we shall be disposed to make a more favourable judgment of the failings of other people; we shall think it unreasonable to expect that they should be perfect, while we are conscious to ourselves of so many personal defects; we shall be ashamed to condemn men of like passions for taking those liberties which we think excusable in ourselves. III. IMPROVEMENT. 1. If evil speaking be in general so heinous a sin, and on so many accounts injurious to the party spoken against, the guilt of it must still be increased, when such particular persons are defamed who bear any extraordinary character, or whose reputation is of greater influence; such as princes and civil magistrates that are put in authority under them, whose honour it is the common interest of society itself to support and maintain, because in proportion to any contempt or indignity offered to their persons, their authority itself will grow cheap and precarious. 2. From what has been said, we may observe the general decay of Christian piety. 3. If evil speaking be so heinous a crime, let us take care not only to avoid it ourselves, but to discountenance it in others. I must own there is some courage and resolution required to stem a torrent which runs so strong, and wherewith such multitudes are carried away; but the more general any sinful practice is, it is an argument of the greater bravery and generosity of mind to oppose it. But if we have not power enough over ourselves to do that, let us take care, at least, that we be not thought by any seeming complacency in it, to encourage so unchristian a conversation. ( R. Fiddes. ) I was dumb with silence. Psalm 39:2 Silence: sinful and sacred W. Williams. Was David right in keeping silence "even from good"? Matthew Henry remarks, "Was it his wisdom that he refrained from good discourse when the wicked were before him, because he would not cast pearls before swine? I rather think it was his weakness. The same law which forbids all corrupt communications requires that which is good to the use of edifying." Commendable virtues may be practised so eagerly as to degenerate into vices. Silence may indicate the greatest strength of character, or the greatest weakness. I. To BE DUMB WITH SILENCE MAY BE A GREAT SIN. It often involves — 1. Neglect of duty. Our tongues and voices were given us quite as much for the purpose of making vocal the praises of God, as to hold converse with one another. Shall we be so indebted to God for all His mercies and never render to Him our praise? Nature is ever vocal with adorations to our King. His praise finds expression on every hand, The birds warble it, in deep bass the seas roar it, the stars shine it, the flowers with sweet perfume breathe it, mighty winds and gentle zephyrs chant it, spring, summer, autumn, winter, are four choristers from which ascend but four parts of one glad anthem. And yet how often man remains dumb with guilty silence amid the myriad harmonious voices around him. We are often silent, also, when we should speak for God. We fear to confess Him though He calls upon us to be His witnesses. Oh, that you could feel the sin of your reticence; the criminality of sealed lips! A silent religion, or a speaking religion, Christian professor, which shall it be? 2. The permission afforded us of speaking for Christ should be looked upon in the light of a high privilege as well as a solemn duty. "We cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard. 3. Our sinful silence often involves a loss of personal blessing. II. BUT SILENCE IS OFTEN A VIRTUE. When David was overwhelmed with a sense of God's mercy as expressed in Nathan's message ( 2 Samuel 7:18 ), his sense of obligation to God was so great, that he felt his soul big with emotions to which he could scarce give expression, so he "sat before the Lord," overpowered with the weight of blessing. Have not we often felt our souls tremulous with an adoration our lips could not express? When we have sought fellowship with our Lord in His sufferings and mused upon His "unknown agonies." The silent growth and secret development of character is most acceptable to God. Many Christians are yielding Him greater praise by the silent yet mighty influence of a sanctified character, than others who are loud in talk yet less circumspect in life. All growth is silent. The tree rises year by year without any noise. Contrast the building of the tower of Babel and that of the temple, which, "Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung." Think, too, of silent prayer; and of sweet and gracious submission. How exalted is that Christian's attainment who can be silent while man persecutes. To me no portion of the story of our Saviour's life on earth is more convincing in its proof of His Deity than His submission to His cruel persecutors — "When reviled, He reviled not again; when buffeted, He threatened not." Here is Divinity indeed. Omnipotence restrains omnipotence. Let us seek grace to imitate Him. ( W. Williams. ) While I was musing the fire burned. Psalm 39:8 The place of feeling in religion J. B. Aitken. David was one who felt, thought and acted strongly. There were no neutral tints about him. And he felt that he needed to restrain himself, lest his strong feeling should hurry him into sin. Hence he said, "I will take heed to nay ways that I sin not with my tongue," etc. But feeling is a thing to be desired. As with David, thinking often prompts it: the two should ever be in just proportion. But it is better to have too much than too little feeling. We cannot love an unfeeling man. Tim feeling heart is the most human as well as the most humane part of our humanity. But we admire it only when it leans upon a clear judgment, and is thereby controlled. But it is difficult to say which is the stronger force. Both should be found in religion. But we are to remember that some natures have small capacity for emotion, and we do wrong in that account to doubt their Christianity. It is a sad misconception to look upon emotion as salvation. Salvation rests upon our willing Lord. God forgives, although a man may never weep. ( J. B. Aitken. ) Quiet musing I. LET US SAY SOMETHING IN PRAISE OF MUSING. We do not do much of this in these days. We prefer what is amusing to musing, by a great deal. But — 1. It is well to muse on the things of God because thus we get the nutriment out of them. Mere hearing or reading without this will not serve. 2. It fixes the truth in the memory. If we would have truth photographed upon our hearts, we must keep it long before the spiritual lens. 3. It lends us into the secrets of truth. 4. It ministers joy. "My meditation of him shall be sweet." 5. And it becomes easier by practice. A man has never a slack hand or a cold heart who is much in meditation. It is a blessed art. II. PUT SOME FUEL ON THE FIRE OF MEDITATION, How many are the topics which might be suggested. Eternal love. Dying love. Salvation. Heaven. Hell. And to you who are unregenerate I would urge your musing on your present state. What your end must be if you continue as you are. Of the Lord Jesus Christ. Beware lest the day come when thou wilt have to muse without hope. ( C. H. Spurgeon . ) Man musing, burning, speaking Homilist. I. THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 1. Thought. "While I was musing." What a wonderful power is the power of thought!(1) By thought man can turn the universe to his service.(2) By thought man can rise to the Creator, rise to some knowledge of Him, resemblance to Him, fellowship with Him.(3) By thought he can regulate his own destiny. By it he can change his character. Thought is the helmsman of the soul. 2. Moral emotion. "The fire burned." It was the fire of moral feeling. All the sentient existences we know of have some kind of feeling, but man alone has moral feeling — feeling in relation to sin, to duty, and to God. This feeling is kindled by thought. 3. Speech. "I spake." What a wonderful power is the power of speech. By it we reveal ourselves, we achieve conquests over souls, and win them to our wishes and our ways. How great is man! II. THE PROCESS OF REPENTANCE. But how is this fire to be kindled? Here is the method. By musing. Upon the inconvenience of sin, its consequences, or its punishment? Thought must dwell upon God's mercy, not merely in nature and providence, but in the mission, sufferings, and death of God's only begotten Son. III. The PHILOSOPHY OF TRUE ELOQUENCE. "While I was musing the fire burned, then spake I with my tongue." When is the tongue eloquent? 1. When it is used as a relief to the soul. 2. When it is used as a vehicle of strongest moral emotions. Moral emotions are electric. ( Homilist. ) Motives J. Walker, D. D. When we witness the performance of a noble deed, when we become acquainted with a noble character, when we read the life of a great and good man, we are tempted to ascribe his superiority, in great measure at least, to a difference of circumstances. "He has had facilities, incentives, motives," we are apt to say, "such as have not fallen to the lot of most men. Give us the same facilities, give us the same incentives and motives to virtue, and we should be glad to do as he has done." Undoubtedly there is a sense in which this is true. He has felt motives which we have not. But why has he felt them? To answer this question, we must begin by answering several others on which it depends. What are motives? The motive, externally considered, is the reason for acting or not acting, in a particular way; which, of course, will be attended to very differently by different persons, and so affect them very differently. Let us next consider what gives efficacy to one motive over another in particular cases? It is not enough that the quality exists; the individual must feel, must perceive that it exists, or else to him it does not exist. And now we are prepared to take up the third question, Why is it, that while one man is alive to the higher motives of human conduct, another is alive only to the lower motives? Something doubtless is attributable to difference of organization and temperament, but not the whole. If it were, how should we be able to account for material and essential changes in moral and religious sensibility, which the same individual often undergoes? In the case of repentance, involving a real change of heart, it will hardly be pretended that this alters a man's organization or temperament; and yet how entirely it alters his sensibility to moral and religious motives. These motives were always before him; but he did not see them, or at least he did not feel them, as he does now. In this respect he differs from his former self, just as all good men differ from all bad men; nevertheless, organically considered, he is the same man he always has been. So likewise of acquired habits, considered as predisposing men to be affected by certain motives. Why is it that motives have more influence over the mind in proportion as it is in any way predisposed to be affected by them? The chief, if not the sole reason, is, that such a mind gives them more attention and thought, enters into them more fully and entirely as realities, returns to them more frequently, and dwells upon them to the exclusion of other things. Hence it follows, that earnest attention to the highest motives of human conduct awakens the best affections of the soul; and again, it is only by renewing this attention from day to day that these affections are kept alive and rendered more and more intense. In the words of the text: "While I was musing the fire burned." For this reason the Scriptures everywhere lay great stress on meditation and holy contemplation, on communing with God and our own souls, and having our conversation in heaven, as the conditions of "newness of life." Taking this principle along with us, we shall not find much difficulty in explaining some of the greatest perplexities of the Christian life. In the first place, it will help us to define, with sufficient distinctness at least for all practical purposes, the office of free will. Whatever may be true in theory, there can be no doubt that, in practice, we are generally disappointed, when we expect a great deal from man's self-determining power. The reason is, not that this power does not exist, but that it is not applied at the right time, and in the right place. Again, the same principle will help to explain why it is, that when men become decidedly religious it is often in consequence of some startling or impressive event — the death of a friend, a remarkable escape, a pungent discourse, a striking remark, a dream, a thought. It may be said that such an occurrence does not add one iota to the number or the strength of the motives to a Christian life which these persons had, and which they knew they had, before. And this is true; but it calls attention to those motives; and this, as we have seen, is all that was wanted. Once more, the view here taken of the manner in which men become alive to the highest motives will also account satisfactorily for local and temporary excitements in morals and religion. These are sometimes referred to sympathy and imitation, and even to causes less pure. Much of what is transient in them, and many of the attendant circumstances, are doubtless to be explained in this way; but not the whole. What is real and lasting in these movements has its origin in the general attention to the subject which, somehow or other, has been awakened. It is not pretended that any new motives are discovered or invented. Let me, then, revert once more to the plea so often set up by the undevout, the indifferent, the worldly-minded: to wit, that they do not feel the motives to virtue and piety which good men do. The fact is admitted; but when we come to analyze it, we find that, in most cases at least, it turns out to be, not an excuse, but a part of the wrong. As we have seen, they do not distinguish, they do not believe, they do not feel because they do not attend. But attention is pre-eminently a voluntary act, and one, therefore, in respect to which all are pre-eminently free and responsible. ( J. Walker, D. D. ) The uses of solitude F. W. P. Greenwood. The subject of solitude has been a favourite theme for romantic declamation and sentimental insipidity; and, on this account, many sensible people are inclined to avoid it. It will but be doing justice to its real importance and dignity, to state its connection with some of our highest duties, and its influence over our most spiritual affections; to speak of it in seriousness and simplicity, as a necessary discipline of the mental faculties, as a valuable monitor of our real situation and destiny, as a choice opportunity for impartial self-examination, profitable reflection, and heavenly communion. I. AS A PREPARATIVE FOR SOCIETY AND FOR ACTION, 1. It is so, in one respect, simply as it furnishes repose to weariness. We return to our work with more vigour when our flagging forces have had time to recover their spring, and our ebbing spirits have received a new supply of sustenance and force. The attractions of deserted things are renewed; a fresh impulse is given to the race, and a fresh beauty to the prize. 2. But our capacity of duty is not merely animated by an addition of power; it is enlarged by the acquisition of knowledge. We see the world at an advantage, as it were, when we see it as spectators, and not as actors. We can observe with more exactness the passions which agitate the bosoms of men when we ourselves are without the reach of their influence. We can trace with more precision their actions to their motives, when we are standing aloof, and can take in, as from an eminence, both the fountain and the stream. 3. Yet in another way are we fitted by solitude to go back again into society, better qualified than before for its duties and demands. We are made more kind, more gentle, more forbearing. 4. We are taught, also, in the seasons of occasional solitude, a more correct knowledge of ourselves than we should otherwise possess. We are thus in the way of exercising more candour in the scrutiny of our neighbour's opinions, feelings and actions, and more diffidence in the defence Of our own. II. As FAVOURABLE TO THE MOST EXALTED FEELINGS OF DEVOTION. 1. Man holds the most intimate communion with his Maker when no being but his Maker is near him. The most fervent aspirations of his heart rise up from the temple of solitude; for they rise up without witness, without restraint, and without contamination. 2. Solitude is favourable to devotion because its tendency is to render devotion consistent, rational and ennobling. When we are alone with God, we see Him with a clearer vision, and seem to be endowed with a more intimate perception of His character. We draw nearer to His presence, and drink more directly and copiously of His Spirit. III. ITS TENDENCY TO INSPIRE SERIOUS REFLECTIONS ON THE GREAT CONCERNS OF EXISTENCE — LIFE, DEATH, ETERNITY. 1. There is something in the essential vigour, and the regenerated freshness, and the long duration natural objects, which often impresses us most forcibly with a feeling of the shortness and uncertainty of our own earthly existence. No sentiment offers itself more naturally to him who meditates alone among the silent works of God, than that they are renewing their strength while he is wearing away, and that they will remain when he is gone. The sun seems to say to him, I shall rise in splendour, and set in glory; and the moon, I shall walk on in my brightness; and the hills, We shall abide in our majesty; and the streams, We shall flow in all our fulness — when thou shalt be no longer known to us, nor numbered with us. The intimation is melancholy, hut it is not unkind, nor is it received unkindly — for the voice of Nature is not as the voice of men. It is always a sound of soothing and sympathy, and never of contempt or indifference. 2. It remains to point out a connection between thoughts of this nature, and a source still higher. When we are engaged in secret communion with that eternal Being in whose hands our life and breath are, and whose are all our ways, we are necessarily reminded of our own frailty and dependence, of the brevity of our mortal term, and of our deep responsibility. ( F. W. P. Greenwood. ) My heart was but within me; while I was musing, the fire burned: then spake I with my tongue, Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is, that I may know how frail I am. Psalm 39:4 A sense of our frailty a subject for prayer Henry Melvill, B. D. Bishop Horsley says that David, moved by a godly contrition, pours forth this prayer, that he might know his end and the measure of his days. I. WHY SHOULD CONTRITION LEAD TO SUCH A PRAYER? David speaks not of forgiveness, though that is what the contrite heart first asks for. But he does not here pray even for this. Apparently he does not, but really he does. For the prayer to be taught how frail we are, is virtually a prayer that we may be made holier, more averse from sin, and more devoted to the great end of our being. That it is this is shown — 1. By the fact that the interval between the evil work and the execution of the sentence against it causes the hearts of men to be steadfastly set in them to do evil. If penalty followed immediately on crime, men would not dare to sin as now they fearlessly do. They trust themselves to the hope that delay in punishment ever inspires. There is a sort of unacknowledged idea that what is protracted and indefinite will never take effect. A thousand things may intervene to prevent execution. 2. Or there is at work another, and not wholly different feeling. It is confessed that sin must be repented and forsaken, seeing that otherwise there will come a fearful retribution hereafter; but it is imagined that life will yet afford many opportunities, so that it is safe, or at least not imminently dangerous, to persist a while longer in criminal indulgence, which keeps up the sinner in this his procrastination. If you could practically overthrow this his theory, and substitute for it the persuasion, that "in the midst of life he is in death," he would be almost compelled, by his felt exposure to danger, to make provision for the coming eternity, on the threshold of which he may be at any moment standing, and which may be upon him, in its awfulness and unchangeableness, ere he draw another breath. How many still believe the ancient lie with which the tempter deceived Eve, "Ye shall not surely die." How few live "as strangers and pilgrims" here on earth. Instead of that there is a great settling themselves down, as if earth were their home; a slackness in religious duties, as if there were no great cause for diligence; a deferring of many sacrifices and performances, as though the case were not urgent; and this, too, where the parties not only avouch themselves careful for the soul, but are clearly to be distinguished from the great mass around them, by a general endeavour to do the will of their God. And what should we say is needed, in order to the correcting these errors and inconsistencies? What, at least, would be a mighty engine in producing greater steadfastness in the righteous, greater abstraction from earth, greater devotedness to religion? We reply without hesitation — a deep conviction of the uncertainty of life. Had men such conviction they could not live, as now they do, so entangled in the world, so eager in its service. It would warn him back from the inordinate pursuit of earthly things. II. But note THE PETITION ITSELF. What a curious fact it is that such a petition should be offered unto God. Its terms are explicit enough, at least there can be little doubt as to its drift. He does not mean that God should show him the exact measure of his days and the precise number of them tie had yet to live. Such a petition would be unlawful, for it would be an intrusion into those "secret things" which "belong only unto God." But that which the psalmist seeks to know is, the frailty of his life. This is the drift and scope of the petition, that he may have an abiding sense of the shortness and uncertainty of life. Now, is it not strange that such a prayer should be offered? I do not ask God to make me know that such and such substances are poisonous when all example testifies that they are; or that the weather is variable, when I have such continual proof of it. I do not pray to know anything, which I know indubitably from books, or testimony, or observation. Why, then, pray to be made to know how frail I am? It seems like praying to be made to know that the sun rises and sets; that storms may .suddenly overcast the sk

39:1-6 If an evil thought should arise in the mind, suppress it. Watchfulness in the habit, is the bridle upon the head; watchfulness in acts, is the hand upon the bridle. When not able to separate from wicked men, we should remember they will watch our words, and turn them, if they can, to our disadvantage. Sometimes it may be necessary to keep silence, even from good words; but in general we are wrong when backward to engage in edifying discourse. Impatience is a sin that has its cause within ourselves, and that is, musing; and its ill effects upon ourselves, and that is no less than burning. In our greatest health and prosperity, every man is altogether vanity, he cannot live long; he may die soon. This is an undoubted truth, but we are very unwilling to believe it. Therefore let us pray that God would enlighten our minds by his Holy Spirit, and fill our hearts with his grace, that we may be ready for death every day and hour. 39:7-13 There is no solid satisfaction to be had in the creature; but it is to be found in the Lord, and in communion with him; to him we should be driven by our disappointments. If the world be nothing but vanity, may God deliver us from having or seeking our portion in it. When creature-confidences fail, it is our comfort that we have a God to go to, a God to trust in. We may see a good God doing all, and ordering all events concerning us; and a good man, for that reason, says nothing against it. He desires the pardoning of his sin, and the preventing of his shame. We must both watch and pray against sin. When under the correcting hand of the Lord, we must look to God himself for relief, not to any other. Our ways and our doings bring us into trouble, and we are beaten with a rod of our own making. What a poor thing is beauty! and what fools are those that are proud of it, when it will certainly, and may quickly, be consumed! The body of man is as a garment to the soul. In this garment sin has lodged a moth, which wears away, first the beauty, then the strength, and finally the substance of its parts. Whoever has watched the progress of a lingering distemper, or the work of time alone, in the human frame, will feel at once the force of this comparison, and that, surely every man is vanity. Afflictions are sent to stir up prayer. If they have that effect, we may hope that God will hear our prayer. The believer expects weariness and ill treatment on his way to heaven; but he shall not stay here long : walking with God by faith, he goes forward on his journey, not diverted from his course, nor cast down by the difficulties he meets. How blessed it is to sit loose from things here below, that while going home to our Father's house, we may use the world as not abusing it! May we always look for that city, whose Builder and Maker is God.