One of the most notable of the sacred hymns. It
sings the omniscience and omnipresence of God, inferring from
these the overthrow of the powers of wickedness, since he who
sees and hears the abominable deeds and words of the rebellious
will surely deal with them according to his justice. The
brightness of this Psalm is like unto a sapphire stone, or
Ezekiel's "terrible crystal"; it flames out with such
flashes of light as to turn night into day. Like a Pharos, this
holy song casts a clear light even to the uttermost parts of the
sea, and warns us against that practical atheism which ignores
the presence of God, and so makes shipwreck of the soul.
TITLE. To the Chief Musician. The last
time this title occurred was in Ps 109:1-31. This sacred song is
worthy of the most excellent of the singers, and is fitly
dedicated to the leader of the Temple Psalmody, that he might
set it to music, and see that it was devoutly sung in the solemn
worship of the Most High. A Psalm of David. It bears the image
and superscription of King David, and could have come from no
other mint than that of the son of Jesse. Of course the critics
take this composition away from David, on account of certain
Aramaic expressions in it. We believe that upon the principles
of criticism now in vogue it would be extremely easy to prove
that Milton did not write Paradise Lost. We have yet to learn
that David could not have used expressions belonging to
"the language of the patriarchal ancestral house." Who
knows how much of the antique speech may have been purposely
retained among those nobler minds who rejoiced in remembering
the descent of their race? Knowing to what wild inferences the
critics have run in other matters, we have lost nearly all faith
in them, and prefer to believe David to be the author of this
Psalm, from internal evidences of style and matter, rather than
to accept the determination of men whose modes of judgment are
manifestly unreliable.
EXPOSITION
Verse 1. O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known
me. He invokes in adoration Jehovah the all knowing God, and
he proceeds to adore him by proclaiming one of his peculiar
attributes. If we would praise God aright we must draw the
matter of our praise from himself—"O Jehovah, thou
hast." No pretended god knows aught of us; but the true
God, Jehovah, understands us, and is most intimately acquainted
with our persons, nature, and character. How well it is for us
to know the God who knows us! The divine knowledge is extremely
thorough and searching; it is as if he had searched us, as
officers search a man for contraband goods, or as pillagers
ransack a house for plunder. Yet we must not let the figure run
upon all fours, and lead us further than it is meant to do: the
Lord knows all things naturally and as a matter of course, and
not by any effort on his part. Searching ordinarily implies a
measure of ignorance which is removed by observation; of course
this is not the case with the Lord; but the meaning of the
Psalmist is, that the Lord knows us as thoroughly as if he had
examined us minutely, and had pried into the most secret corners
of our being. This infallible knowledge has always
existed—"Thou hast searched me"; and it continues
unto this day, since God cannot forget that which he has once
known. There never was a time in which we were unknown to God,
and there never will be a moment in which we shall be beyond his
observation. Note how the Psalmist makes his doctrine personal:
he saith not, "O God, thou knowest all things"; but,
"thou hast known me." It is ever our wisdom to
lay truth home to ourselves. How wonderful the contrast between
the observer and the observed! Jehovah and me! Yet this most
intimate connection exists, and therein lies our hope. Let the
reader sit still a while and try to realize the two poles of
this statement,—the Lord and poor puny man—and he will see
much to admire and wonder at.
Verse 2. Thou knowest my downsitting and mine
uprising. Me thou knowest, and all that comes of me. I am
observed when I quietly sit down, and marked when I resolutely
rise up. My most common and casual acts, my most needful and
necessary movements, are noted by time, and thou knowest the
inward thoughts which regulate them. Whether I sink in lowly
self renunciation, or ascend in pride, thou seest the motions of
my mind, as well as those of my body. This is a fact to be
remembered every moment: sitting down to consider, or rising up
to act, we are still seen, known, and read by Jehovah our Lord.
Thou understandest my thought afar off. Before it is my own it
is foreknown and comprehended by thee. Though my thought be
invisible to the sight, though as yet I be not myself cognizant
of the shape it is assuming, yet thou hast it under thy
consideration, and thou perceivest its nature, its source, its
drift, its result. Never dost thou misjudge or wrongly interpret
me: my inmost thought is perfectly understood by thine impartial
mind. Though thou shouldest give but a glance at my heart, and
see me as one sees a passing meteor moving afar, yet thou
wouldst by that glimpse sum up all the meanings of my soul, so
transparent is everything to thy piercing glance.
Verse 3. Thou compassest my path and my lying down.
My path and my pallet, my running and my resting, are alike
within the circle of thine observation. Thou dost surround me
even as the air continually surrounds all creatures that live. I
am shut up within the wall of thy being; I am encircled within
the bounds of thy knowledge. Waking or sleeping I am still
observed of thee. I may leave thy path, but you never leave
mine. I may sleep and forget thee, but thou dost never slumber,
nor fall into oblivion concerning thy creature. The original
signifies not only surrounding, but winnowing and sifting. The
Lord judges our active life and our quiet life; he discriminates
our action and our repose, and marks that in them which is good
and also that which is evil. There is chaff in all our wheat,
and the Lord divides them with unerring precision. And art
acquainted with all my ways. Thou art familiar with all I do;
nothing is concealed from thee, nor surprising to thee, nor
misunderstood by thee. Our paths may be habitual or accidental,
open or secret, but with them all the Most Holy One is well
acquainted. This should fill us with awe, so that we sin not;
with courage, so that we fear not; with delight, so that we
mourn not.
Verse 4. For there is not a word in my tongue, but
lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether. The unformed word,
which lies within the tongue like a seed in the soil, is
certainly and completely known to the Great Searcher of hearts.
A negative expression is used to make the positive statement all
the stronger: not a word is unknown is a forcible way of saying
that every word is well known. Divine knowledge is perfect,
since not a single word is unknown, nay, not even an unspoken
word, and each one is "altogether" or wholly known.
What hope of concealment can remain when the speech with which
too many conceal their thoughts is itself transparent before the
Lord? O Jehovah, how great art thou! If thine eye hath such
power, what must be the united force of thine whole nature!
Verse 5. Thou hast beset me behind and before.
As though we were caught in an ambush, or besieged by an army
which has wholly beleaguered the city walls, we are surrounded
by the Lord. God has set us where we be, and beset us wherever
we be. Behind us there is God recording our sins, or in grace
blotting out the remembrance of them; and before us there is God
foreknowing all our deeds, and providing for all our wants. We
cannot turn back and so escape him, for he is behind; we cannot
go forward and outmarch him, for he is before. He not only
beholds us, but he besets us; and lest there should seem any
chance of escape, or lest we should imagine that the surrounding
presence is yet a distant one, it is added,—And laid thine
hand upon me. The prisoner marches along surrounded by a guard,
and gripped by an officer. God is very near; we are wholly in
his power; from that power there is no escape. It is not said
that God will thus beset us and arrest us, but it is
done—"Thou hast beset me." Shall we not alter the
figure, and say that our heavenly Father has folded his arms
around us, and caressed us with his hand It is even so with
those who are by faith the children of the Most High.
Verse 6. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me.
I cannot grasp it. I can hardly endure to think of it. The theme
overwhelms me. I am amazed and astounded at it. Such knowledge
not only surpasses my comprehension, but even my imagination. It
is high, I cannot attain unto it. Mount as I may, this truth is
too lofty for my mind. It seems to be always above me, even when
I soar into the loftiest regions of spiritual thought. Is it not
so with every attribute of God? Can we attain to any idea of his
power, his wisdom, his holiness? Our mind has no line with which
to measure the Infinite. Do we therefore question? Say, rather,
that we therefore believe and adore. We are not surprised that
the Most Glorious God should in his knowledge be high above all
the knowledge to which we can attain: it must of necessity be
so, since we are such poor limited beings; and when we stand a
tip toe we cannot reach to the lowest step of the throne of the
Eternal.
Verse 7. Here omnipresence is the theme,—a truth to
which omniscience naturally leads up. Whither shall I go from
thy spirit? Not that the Psalmist wished to go from God, or to
avoid the power of the divine life; but he asks this question to
set forth the fact that no one can escape from the all pervading
being and observation of the Great Invisible Spirit. Observe how
the writer makes the matter personal to himself—"Whither
shall I go?" It were well if we all thus applied
truth to our own cases. It were wise for each one to say—The
spirit of the Lord is ever around me: Jehovah is
omnipresent to me. Or whither spirit I flee from thy
presence? If, full of dread, I hastened to escape from that
nearness of God which had become my terror, which way could I
turn? "Whither?" "Whither?" He repeats his
cry. No answer comes back to him. The reply to his first
"Whither?" is its echo,—a second
"Whither?" From the sight of God he cannot be hidden,
but that is not all,—from the immediate, actual, constant
presence of God he cannot be withdrawn. We must be, whether we
will it or not, as near to God as our soul is to our body. This
makes it dreadful work to sin; for we offend the Almighty to his
face, and commit acts of treason at the very foot of his throne.
Go from him, or flee from him we cannot: neither
by patient travel nor by hasty flight can we withdraw from the
all surrounding Deity. His mind is in our mind; himself within
ourselves. His spirit is over our spirit; our presence is ever
in his presence.
Verse 8. If I ascend up into heaven, thou art
there. Filling the loftiest region with his yet loftier
presence, Jehovah is in the heavenly place, at home, upon his
throne. The ascent, if it were possible, would be unavailing for
purposes of escape; it would, in fact, be a flying into the
centre of the fire to avoid the heat. There would he be
immediately confronted by the terrible personality of God. Note
the abrupt words—"THOU, THERE." If I make my bed in
hell, behold, thou art there. Descending into the lowest
imaginable depths among the dead, there should we find the Lord.
THOU! says the Psalmist, as if he felt that God was the one
great Existence in all places. Whatever Hades may be, or whoever
may be there, one thing is certain, Thou, O Jehovah, art
there. Two regions, the one of glory and the other of darkness,
are set in contrast, and this one fact is asserted of
both—"thou art there." Whether we rise up or lie
down, take our wing or make our bed, we shall find God near us.
A "behold" is added to the second clause, since
it seems more a wonder to meet with God in hell than in heaven,
in Hades than in Paradise. Of course the presence of God
produces very different effects in these places, but it is
unquestionably in each; the bliss of one, the terror of the
other. What an awful thought, that some men seem resolved to
take up their night's abode in hell, a night which shall know no
morning.
Verse 9. If I take the wings of the morning, and
dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea. If I could fly with
all swiftness, and find a habitation where the mariner has not
yet ploughed the deep, yet I could not reach the boundaries of
the divine presence. Light flies with inconceivable rapidity,
and it flashes far afield beyond all human ken; it illuminates
the great and wide sea, and sets its waves gleaming afar; but
its speed would utterly fail if employed in flying from the
Lord. Were we to speed on the wings of the morning breeze, and
break into oceans unknown to chart and map, yet there we should
find the Lord already present. He who saves to the uttermost
would be with us in the uttermost parts of the sea.
Verse 10. Even there shall thy hand lead me. We
could only fly from God by his own power. The Lord would be
leading, covering, preserving, sustaining us even when we were
fugitives from him. And thy right hand shall hold me. In the
uttermost parts of the sea my arrest would be as certain as at
home: God's right hand would there seize and detain the runaway.
Should we be commanded on the most distant errand, we may
assuredly depend upon the upholding right hand of God as with us
in all mercy, wisdom, and power. The exploring missionary in his
lonely wanderings is led, in his solitary feebleness he is held.
Both the hands of God are with his own servants to sustain them,
and against rebels to overthrow them; and in this respect it
matters not to what realms they resort, the active energy of God
is around them still.
Verse 11. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover
me. Dense darkness may oppress me, but it cannot shut me out
from thee, or thee from me. Thou seest as well without the light
as with it, since thou art not dependent upon light which is
thine own creature, for the full exercise of thy perceptions.
Moreover, thou art present with me whatever may be the hour; and
being present you discover all that I think, or feel, or do. Men
are still so foolish as to prefer night and darkness for their
evil deeds; but so impossible is it for anything to be hidden
from the Lord that they might just as well transgress in broad
daylight.
Darkness and light in this agree;
Great God, they're both alike to thee.
Thine hand can pierce thy foes as soon
Through midnight shades as blazing noon.
A good man will not wish to be hidden by the darkness, a wise
man will not expect any such thing. If we were so foolish as to
make sure of concealment because the place was shrouded in
midnight, we might well be alarmed out of our security by the
fact that, as far as God is concerned, we always dwell in the
light; for even the night itself glows with a revealing
force,—even the night shall be light about me. Let us think of
this if ever we are tempted to take license from the dark—it
is light about us. If the darkness be light, how great is that
light in which we dwell! Note well how David keeps his song in
the first person; let us mind that we do the same as we cry with
Hagar, "Thou God seest me."
Verse 12. Yea, of a surety, beyond all denial.
The darkness hideth not from thee; it veils nothing, it is not
the medium of concealment in any degree what ever. It hides from
men, but not from God. But the night shineth as the day: it is
but another form of day: it shines, revealing all; it "shineth
as the day,"—quite as clearly and distinctly manifesting
all that is done. The darkness and the light are both alike to
thee. This sentence seems to sum up all that went before, and
most emphatically puts the negative upon the faintest idea of
hiding under the cover of night. Men cling to this notion,
because it is easier and less expensive to hide under darkness
than to journey to remote places; and therefore the foolish
thought is here beaten to pieces by statements which in their
varied forms effectually batter it. Yet the ungodly are still
duped by their grovelling notions of God, and enquire, "How
doth God know?" They must fancy that he is as limited in
his powers of observation as they are, and yet if they would but
consider for a moment they would conclude that he who could not
see in the dark could not be God, and he who is not present
everywhere could not be the Almighty Creator. Assuredly God is
in all places, at all times, and nothing can by any possibility
be kept away from his all observing, all comprehending mind. The
Great Spirit comprehends within himself all time and space, and
yet he is infinitely greater than these, or aught else that he
has made.
Verse 13. For thou hast possessed my reins.
Thou art the owner of my inmost parts and passions: not the
indweller and observer only, but the acknowledged lord and
possessor of my most secret self. The word "reins"
signifies the kidneys, which by the Hebrews were supposed to be
the seat of the desires and longings; but perhaps it indicates
here the most hidden and vital portion of the man; this God doth
not only inspect, and visit, but it is his own; he is as much at
home there as a landlord on his own estate, or a proprietor in
his own house. Thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. There I
lay hidden—covered by thee. Before I could know thee, or aught
else, thou hadst a care for me, and didst hide me away as a
treasure till thou shouldest see fit to bring me to the light.
Thus the Psalmist describes the intimacy which God had with him.
In his most secret part—his reins, and in his most secret
condition—yet unborn, he was under the control and
guardianship of God.
Verse 14. I will praise thee: a good resolve,
and one which he was even now carrying out. Those who are
praising God are the very men who will praise him. Those
who wish to praise have subjects for adoration ready to hand. We
too seldom remember our creation, and all the skill and kindness
bestowed upon our frame: but the sweet singer of Israel was
better instructed, and therefore he prepares for the chief
musician a song concerning our nativity and all the fashioning
which precedes it. We cannot begin too soon to bless our Maker,
who began so soon to bless us: even in the act of creation he
created reasons for our praising his name, For I am fearfully
and wonderfully made. Who can gaze even upon a model of our
anatomy without wonder and awe? Who could dissect a portion of
the human frame without marvelling at its delicacy, and
trembling at its frailty? The Psalmist had scarcely peered
within the veil which hides the nerves, sinews, and blood
vessels from common inspection; the science of anatomy was quite
unknown to him; and yet he had seen enough to arouse his
admiration of the work and his reverence for the Worker.
Marvellous are thy works. These parts of my frame are all thy
works; and though they be home works, close under my own eye,
yet are they wonderful to the last degree. They are works within
my own self, yet are they beyond my understanding, and appear to
me as so many miracles of skill and power. We need not go to the
ends of the earth for marvels, nor even across our own
threshold; they abound in our own bodies. And that my soul
knoweth right well. He was no agnostic—he knew; he was no
doubter—his soul knew; he was no dupe—his soul knew right
well. Those know indeed and of a truth who first know the Lord,
and then know all things in him. He was made to know the
marvellous nature of God's work with assurance and accuracy, for
he had found by experience that the Lord is a master worker,
performing inimitable wonders when accomplishing his kind
designs. If we are marvellously wrought upon even before we are
born, what shall we say of the Lord's dealings with us after we
quit his secret workshop, and he directs our pathway through the
pilgrimage of life? What shall we not say of that new birth
which is even more mysterious than the first, and exhibits even
more the love and wisdom of the Lord.
Verse 15. My substance was not hid from thee.
The substantial part of my being was before thine all seeing
eye; the bones which make my frame were put together by thine
hand. The essential materials of my being before they were
arranged were all within the range of thine eye. I was hidden
from all human knowledge, but not from thee: thou hast ever been
intimately acquainted with me. When I was made in secret. Most
chastely and beautifully is here described the formation of our
being before the time of our birth. A great artist will often
labour alone in his studio, and not suffer his work to be seen
until it is finished; even so did the Lord fashion us where no
eye beheld as, and the veil was not lifted till every member was
complete. Much of the formation of our inner man still proceeds
in secret: hence the more of solitude the better for us. The
true church also is being fashioned in secret, so that none may
cry, "Lo, here!" or "Lo, there!" as if that
which is visible could ever be identical with the invisibly
growing body of Christ.
And curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
"Embroidered with great skill", is an accurate
poetical description of the creation of veins, sinews, muscles,
nerves, etc. What tapestry can equal the human fabric? This work
is wrought as much in private as if it had been accomplished in
the grave, or in the darkness of the abyss. The expressions are
poetical, beautifully veiling, though not absolutely concealing,
the real meaning. God's intimate knowledge of us from our
beginning, and even before it, is here most charmingly set
forth. Cannot he who made us thus wondrously when we were not,
still carry on his work of power till he has perfected us,
though we feel unable to aid in the process, and are lying in
great sorrow and self loathing, as though cast into the lowest
parts of the earth?
Verse 16. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet
being unperfect. While as yet the vessel was upon the wheel
the Potter saw it all. The Lord knows not only our shape, but
our substance: this is substantial knowledge indeed. The Lord's
observation of us is intent and intentional,—"Thine eyes
did see." Moreover, the divine mind discerns all things as
clearly and certainly as men perceive by actual eye sight. His
is not hearsay acquaintance, but the knowledge which comes of
sight. And in thy book all my members were written, which in
continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of
them. An architect draws his plans, and makes out his
specifications; even so did the great Maker of our frame write
down all our members in the book of his purposes. That we have
eyes, and ears, and hands, and feet, is all due to the wise and
gracious purpose of heaven: it was so ordered in the secret
decree by which all things are as they are. God's purposes
concern our limbs and faculties. Their form, and shape, and
everything about them were appointed of God long before they had
any existence. God saw us when we could not be seen, and he
wrote about us when there was nothing of us to write about. When
as yet there were none of our members in existence, all those
members were before the eye of God in the sketch book of his
foreknowledge and predestination.
This verse is an exceedingly difficult one to translate, but
we do not think that any of the proposed amendments are better
than the rendering afforded us by the Authorized Version. The
large number of words in italics will warn the English reader
that the sense is hard to come at, and difficult to express, and
that it would be unwise to found any doctrine upon the English
words; happily there is no temptation to do so. The great truth
expressed in these lines has by many been referred to the
formation of the mystical body of our Lord Jesus. Of course,
what is true of man, as man, is emphatically true of Him who is
the representative man. The great Lord knows who belong to
Christ; his eye perceives the chosen members who shall yet be
made one with the living person of the mystical Christ. Those of
the elect who are as yet unborn, or unrenewed, are nevertheless
written in the Lord's book. As the form of Eve grew up in
silence and secrecy under the fashioning hand of the Maker, so
at this hour is the Bride being fashioned for the Lord Jesus;
or, to change the figure,—a body is being prepared in which
the life and glory of the indwelling Lord shall for ever be
displayed. The Lord knoweth them that are his: he has a
specially familiar acquaintance with the members of the body of
Christ; he sees their substance, unperfect though they be.
Verse 17. How precious also are thy thoughts unto
me, O God! He is not alarmed at the fact that God knows all
about him; on the contrary, he is comforted, and even feels
himself to be enriched, as with a casket of precious jewels.
That God should think upon him is the believer's treasure and
pleasure. He cries, "How costly, how valued are thy
thoughts, how dear to me is thy perpetual attention!" He
thinks upon God's thoughts with delight; the more of them the
better is he pleased. It is a joy worth worlds that the Lord
should think upon us who are so poor and needy: it is a joy
which fills our whole nature to think upon God; returning love
for love, thought for thought, after our poor fashion. How great
is the sum of them! When we remember that God thought upon us
from old eternity, continues to think upon us every moment, and
will think of us when time shall be no more, we may well
exclaim, "How great is the sum!" Thoughts such as are
natural to the Creator, the Preserver, the Redeemer, the Father,
the Friend, are evermore flowing from the heart of the Lord.
Thoughts of our pardon, renewal, upholding, supplying,
educating, perfecting, and a thousand more kinds perpetually
well up in the mind of the Most High. It should fill us with
adoring wonder and reverent surprise that the infinite mind of
God should turn so many thoughts towards us who are so
insignificant and so unworthy! What a contrast is all this to
the notion of those who deny the existence of a personal,
conscious God! Imagine a world without a thinking, personal God!
Conceive of a grim providence of machinery!—a fatherhood of
law! Such philosophy is hard and cold. As well might a man
pillow his head upon a razor edge as seek rest in such a fancy.
But a God always thinking of us makes a happy world, a rich
life, a heavenly hereafter.
Verse 18. If I should count them, they are more in
number than the sand. This figure shows the thoughts of God
to be altogether innumerable; for nothing can surpass in number
the grains of sand which belt the main ocean and all the minor
seas. The task of counting God's thoughts of love would be a
never ending one. If we should attempt the reckoning we must
necessarily fail, for the infinite falls not within the line of
our feeble intellect. Even could we count the sands on the
seashore, we should not then be able to number God's thoughts,
for they are "more in number than the sand." This is
not the hyperbole of poetry, but the solid fact of inspired
statement: God thinks upon us infinitely: there is a limit to
the act of creation, but not to the might of divine love. When I
awake, I am still with thee. Thy thoughts of love are so many
that my mind never gets away from them, they surround me at all
hours. I go to my bed, and God is my last thought; and when I
wake I find my mind still hovering about his palace gates; God
is ever with me, and I am ever with him. This is life indeed. If
during sleep my mind wanders away into dreams, yet it only
wanders upon holy ground, and the moment I wake my heart is back
with its Lord. The Psalmist does not say, "When I awake, I
return to thee", but, "I am still with thee"; as
if his meditations were continuous, and his communion unbroken.
Soon we shall lie down to sleep for the last time: God grant
that when the trumpet of the archangel shall waken us we may
find ourselves still with him.
Verse 19. Surely thou wilt slay the wicked, O God.
There can be no doubt upon that head, for thou hast seen all
their transgressions, which indeed have been done in thy
presence; and thou hast long enough endured their provocations,
which have been so openly manifest before thee. Crimes committed
before the face of the Judge are not likely to go unpunished. If
the eye of God is grieved with the presence of evil, it is but
natural to expect that he will remove the offending object. God
who sees all evil will slay all evil. With earthly sovereigns
sin may go unpunished for lack of evidence, or the law may be
left without execution from lack of vigour in the judge; but
this cannot happen in the case of God, the living God. He
beareth not the sword in vain. Such is his love of holiness and
hatred of wrong, that he will carry on war to the death with
those whose hearts and lives are wicked. God will not always
suffer his lovely creation to be defaced and defiled by the
presence of wickedness: if anything is sure, this is sure, that
he will ease him of his adversaries. Depart from me therefore,
ye bloody men. Men who delight in cruelty and war are not fit
companions for those who walk with God. David chases the men of
blood from his court, for he is weary of those of whom God is
weary. He seems to say—If God will not let you live with him I
will not have you live with me. You would destroy others, and
therefore I want you not in my society. You will be destroyed
yourselves, I desire you not in my service. Depart from me, for
you depart from God. As we delight to have the holy God always
near us, so would we eagerly desire to have wicked men removed
as far as possible from us. We tremble in the society of the
ungodly lest their doom should fall upon them suddenly, and we
should see them lie dead at our feet. We do not wish to have our
place of intercourse turned into a gallows of execution,
therefore let the condemned be removed out of our company.
Verse 20. For they speak against thee wickedly.
Why should I bear their company when their talk sickens me? They
vent their treasons and blasphemies as often as they please,
doing so without the slightest excuse or provocation; let them
therefore be gone, where they may find a more congenial
associate than I can be. When men speak against God they will be
sure to speak against us, if they find it serve their turn;
hence godless men are not the stuff out of which true friends
can ever be made. God gave these men their tongues, and they
turn them against their Benefactor, wickedly, from sheer malice,
and with great perverseness. And thine enemies take thy name in
vain. This is their sport: to insult Jehovah's glorious name is
their amusement. To blaspheme the name of the Lord is a
gratuitous wickedness in which there can be no pleasure, and
from which there can be no profit. This is a sure mark of the
"enemies" of the Lord, that they have the impudence to
assail his honour, and treat his glory with irreverence. How can
God do other than slay them? How can we do other than withdraw
from every sort of association with them? What a wonder of sin
it is that men should rail against so good a Being as the Lord
our God! The impudence of those who talk wickedly is a singular
fact, and it is the more singular when we reflect that the Lord
against whom they speak is all around them, and lays to heart
every dishonour which they render to his holy name. We ought not
to wonder that men slander and deride us, for they do the same
with the Most High God.
Verse 21. Do not I hate them, O LORD, that hate
thee? He was a good hater, for he hated only those who hated
good. Of this hatred he is not ashamed, but he sets it forth as
a virtue to which he would have the Lord bear testimony. To love
all men with benevolence is our duty; but to love any wicked man
with complacency would be a crime. To hate a man for his own
sake, or for any evil done to us, would be wrong; but to hate a
man because he is the foe of all goodness and the enemy of all
righteousness, is nothing more nor less than an obligation. The
more we love God the more indignant shall we grow with those who
refuse him their affection. "If any man love not the Lord
Jesus Christ let him be Anathema Maranatha." Truly,
"jealousy is cruel as the grave." The loyal subject
must not be friendly to the traitor. And am not I grieved with
those that rise up against thee? He appeals to heaven that he
took no pleasure in those who rebelled against the Lord; but, on
the contrary, he was made to mourn by a sight of their ill
behaviour. Since God is everywhere, he knows our feelings
towards the profane and ungodly, and he knows that so far from
approving such characters the very sight of them is grievous to
our eyes.
Verse 22. I hate them with perfect hatred. He
does not leave it a matter of question. He does not occupy a
neutral position. His hatred to bad, vicious, blasphemous men is
intense, complete, energetic. He is as whole hearted in his hate
of wickedness as in his love of goodness. I count them mine
enemies. He makes a personal matter of it. They may have done
him no ill, but if they are doing despite to God, to his laws,
and to the great principles of truth and righteousness, David
proclaims war against them. Wickedness passes men into favour
with unrighteous spirits; but it excludes them from the
communion of the just. We pull up the drawbridge and man the
walls when a man of Belial goes by our castle. His character is
a casus belli; we cannot do otherwise than contend with
those who contend with God.
Verse 23. Search me, O God, and know my heart.
David is no accomplice with traitors. He has disowned them in
set form, and now he appeals to God that he does not harbour a
trace of fellowship with them. He will have God himself search
him, and search him thoroughly, till every point of his being is
known, and read, and understood; for he is sure that even by
such an investigation there will be found in him no complicity
with wicked men. He challenges the fullest investigation, the
innermost search: he had need be a true man who can put himself
deliberately into such a crucible. Yet we may each one desire
such searching; for it would be a terrible calamity to us for
sin to remain in our hearts unknown and undiscovered. Try me,
and know my thoughts. Exercise any and every test upon me. By
fire and by water let me be examined. Read not alone the desires
of my heart, but the fugitive thoughts of my head. Know with all
penetrating knowledge all that is or has been in the chambers of
my mind. What a mercy that there is one being who can know us to
perfection! He is intimately at home with us. He is graciously
inclined towards us, and is willing to bend his omniscience to
serve the end of our sanctification. Let us pray as David did,
and let us be as honest as he. We cannot hide our sin: salvation
lies the other way, in a plain discovery of evil, and an
effectual severance from it.
Verse 24. And see if there be any wicked way in me.
See whether there be in my heart, or in my life, any evil habit
unknown to myself. If there be such an evil way, take me from
it, take it from me. No matter how dear the wrong may have
become, nor how deeply prejudiced I may have been in its favour,
be pleased to deliver me therefrom altogether, effectually, and
at once, that I may tolerate nothing which is contrary to thy
mind. As I hate the wicked in their way, so would I hate every
wicked way in myself. And lead me in the way everlasting. If
thou hast introduced me already to the good old way, be pleased
to keep me in it, and conduct me further and further along it.
It is a way which thou hast set up of old, it is based upon
everlasting principles, and it is the way in which immortal
spirits will gladly run for ever and ever. There will be no end
to it world without end. It lasts for ever, and they who are in
it last for ever. Conduct me into it, O Lord, and conduct me
throughout the whole length of it. By thy providence, by thy
word, by thy grace, and by thy Spirit, lead me evermore.
EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUAINT SAYINGS
Whole Psalm. Aben Ezra observes, that this is the most
glorious and excellent Psalm in all the book: a very excellent
one it is; but whether the most excellent, it is hard to say.—John
Gill.
Whole Psalm. There is one Psalm which it were well if
Christians would do by it as Pythagoras by his Golden
Precepts,—every morning and evening repeat it. It is David's
appeal of a good conscience unto God, against the malicious
suspicions and calumnies of men, in Ps 139:1-24.—Samuel
Annesley (1620-1696), in "The Morning
Exercises."
Whole Psalm. This Psalm is one of the most sublime
compositions in the world. How came a shepherd boy to conceive
so sublime a theme, and to write in so sublime a strain? Holy
men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. What
themes are more sublime than the Divine attributes? And which of
these attributes is more sublime than Omnipresence? Omniscience,
spirituality, infinity, immutability and eternity are
necessarily included in it.—George Rogers.
Whole Psalm. Let the modern wits, after this, look
upon the honest shepherds of Palestine as a company of rude
and unpolished clowns; let them, if they can, produce from
profane authors thoughts that are more sublime, more delicate,
or better turned; not to mention the sound divinity and solid
piety which are apparent under these expressions.—Claude
Fleury, 1640-1723.
Whole Psalm. Here the poet inverts his gaze, from the
blaze of suns, to the strange atoms composing his own frame. He
stands shuddering over the precipice of himself. Above is the
All encompassing Spirit, from whom the morning wings cannot
save; and below, at a deep distance, appears amid the branching
forest of his animal frame, so fearfully and wonderfully made,
the abyss of his spiritual existence, lying like a dark lake in
the midst. How, between mystery and mystery, his mind, his
wonder, his very reason, seem to rock like a little boat between
the sea and sky. But speedily does he regain his serenity; when
he throws himself, with childlike haste and confidence, into the
arms of that Fatherly Spirit, and murmurs in his bosom,
"How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God;
how great is the sum of them"; and looking up at last in
his face, cries—"Search me, O Lord. I cannot search thee;
I cannot search myself; I am overwhelmed by those dreadful
depths; but search me as thou only canst; see if there be any
wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."—George
Gilfillan (1813-1878), in "The Bards of the
Bible."
Whole Psalm. The Psalm has an immediately practical
aim, which is unfolded near the close. It is not an abstract
description of the Divine attributes, with a mere indirect
purpose in view. If God is such a being, if his vital agency
reaches over all his creation, pervades all objects, illumines
the deepest and darkest recesses; if his knowledge has no
limits, piercing into the mysterious processes of creation, into
the smallest and most elemental germs of life; if his eye can
discern the still more subtle and recondite processes of mind,
comprehending the half formed conception, the germinating desire
"afar off"; if, anterior to all finite existence, his
predetermining decree went forth; if in those ancient records of
eternity man's framework, with all its countless elements and
organs, in all the ages of his duration, were inscribed—then
for his servant, his worshipper on earth, two consequences
follow, most practical and momentous: first, the ceasing
to have or feel any complacency with the wicked, any sympathy
with their evil ways, any communion with them as such; and, secondly,
the earnest desire that God would search the Psalmist's soul,
lest in its unsounded depths there might be some lurking
iniquity, lest there might be, beyond the present jurisdiction
of his conscience, some dark realm which the Omniscient eye only
could explore.—Bela B. Edwards (1802-1852), in H.C.
Fish's "Masterpieces of Pulpit Eloquence."
Whole Psalm.
Searcher of hearts! to thee are known
The inmost secrets of my breast;
At home, abroad, in crowds, alone,
Thou mark'st my rising and my rest,
My thoughts far off, through every maze,
Source, stream, and issue—all my ways.
How from thy presence should I go,
Or whither from thy Spirit flee,
Since all above, around, below,
Exist in thine immensity?
If up to heaven I take my way,
I meet thee in eternal day.
If in the grave I make my bed
With worms and dust, lo! thou art there!
If, on the wings of morning sped,
Beyond the ocean I repair,
I feel thine all controlling will,
And thy right hand upholds me still.
"Let darkness hide me", if I say,
Darkness can no concealment be;
Night, on thy rising, shines like day;
Darkness and light are one with thee:
For thou mine embryo form didst view,
Ere her own babe my mother knew.
In me thy workmanship display'd,
A miracle of power I stand:
Fearfully, wonderfully made,
And framed in secret by thine hand;
I lived, ere into being brought,
Through thine eternity of thought.
How precious are thy thoughts of peace,
O God, to me! how great the sum!
New every morn, they never cease:
They were, they are, and yet shall come,
In number and in compass more
Than ocean's sands or ocean's shore.
Search me, O God! and know my heart;
Try me, my inmost soul survey;
And warn thy servant to depart
From every false and evil way:
So shall thy truth my guidance be
To life and immortality.
—James Montgomery.
Whole Psalm. The Psalm may be thus summarized Ps
139:1. O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me.—As
though he said, "O LORD, thou art the heart searching God,
who perfectly knowest all the thoughts, counsels, studies,
endeavours, and actions of all men, and therefore mine." Ps
139:2. Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou
understandest my thought afar off.—As if he had said,
"Thou knowest my rest and motion, and my plodding thoughts
of both" Ps 139:3. Thou compassest my path and my lying
down, and art acquainted with all my ways.—As if he had
said, "You fan and winnow me", that is, "You
discuss and try me to the utmost." Ps 139:4. For there
is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it
altogether.—As if he had said, "I cannot speak a
word, though never so secret, obscure, or subtle, but thou
knowest what, and why, and with what mind it was uttered"
Ps 139:5. Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid
thine hand upon me.—As if he had said, "Thou keepest
me within the compass of thy knowledge, like a man that will not
let his servant go out of his sight. I cannot break away from
thee" Ps 139:6. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high, I cannot attain unto it. As if he had said,
"The knowledge of thy great and glorious majesty and
infiniteness is utterly past all human comprehension." Ps
139:7. Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I
flee from thy presence?—As if he had said, "Whither
can I flee from thee, whose essence, presence, and power is
everywhere?" Ps 139:8. If I ascend up into heaven, thou
art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.—As
if he had said, "There is no height above thee, there is no
depth below thee." Ps 139:9. If I take the wings of the
morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea.—As
if he had said, "If I had wings to fly as swift as the
morning light, from the east to the west, that I could in a
moment get to the furthest parts of the world." Ps 139:10. Even
there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.—As
if he had said, "Thence shall thy hand lead me back, and
hold me fast like a fugitive." Ps 139:11. If I say,
Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be
light about me.—As if he had said, "Though darkness
hinders man's sight, it doth not thine." In a word, look
which way you will, there is no hiding place from God. "For
his eyes are upon the ways of man, and he seeth all his goings.
There is no darkness nor shadow of death, where the workers of
iniquity may hide themselves": Job 34:21-22. Therefore,
Christians, do nothing but what you are willing God should take
notice of; and judge in yourselves whether this be not the way
to have a good and quiet conscience.—Samuel Annesley.
Whole Psalm. In this Aramaizing Psalm what the
preceding Psalm says (Ps 138:6) comes to be carried into effect,
viz.: For Jahve is exalted and he seeth the lowly, and the
proud he knoweth from afar. This Psalm has manifold points
of contact with its predecessor.—Franz Delitzsch.
To the Chief Musician. As a later writer could have no
motive for prefixing the title, "To the Chief
Musician", it affords an incidental proof of antiquity
and genuineness.—Joseph Addison Alexander.
A Psalm of David. How any critic can assign this Psalm
to other than David I cannot understand. Every line, every
thought, every turn of expression and transition, is his, and
his only. As for the arguments drawn from the two Chaldaisms
which occur, this is really nugatory. These Chaldaisms consist
merely in the substitution of one letter for another, very like
it in shape, and easily to be mistaken by a transcriber,
particularly by one who had been used to the Chaldee idiom; but
the moral arguments for David's authorship are so strong as to
overwhelm any such verbal, or rather literal criticism,
were even the objections more formidable than they actually
are.—John Jebb.
Verse 1. O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known
(me). There is no "me" after "known"
in the Hebrew; therefore it is better to take the object after "known"
in a wider sense. The omission is intentional, that the
believing heart of all who use this Psalm may supply the
ellipsis. Thou hast known and knowest all that concerns the
matter in question, as well whether I and mine are guilty or
innocent (Ps 44:21); also my exact circumstances, my needs, my
sorrows, and the precise time when to relieve me.—A.R.
Fausset.
Verse 1. O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known
me. The godly may sometimes be so overclouded with calumnies
and reproaches as not to be able to find a way to clear
themselves before men, but must content and comfort themselves
with the testimony of a good conscience and with God's
approbation of their integrity, as here David doth.—David
Dickson.
Verse 1. O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known
me. David here lays down the great doctrine, that God has a
perfect knowledge of us, First, in the way of an address to
God: he saith it to him, acknowledging it to him, and giving
him the glory of it. Divine truths look full as well when they
are prayed over as when they are preached over: and much better
than when they are disputed over. When we speak of God to him
himself, we find ourselves concerned to speak with the utmost
degree both of sincerity and reverence, which will be likely to
make the impressions the deeper. Secondly, he lays it down in
a way of application to himself: not thou hast known all,
but "thou hast known me"; that is it which I am
most concerned to believe, and which it will be most profitable
for me to consider. Then we know things for our good when we
know them for ourselves. Job 5:27 ... David was a king, and
"the hearts of kings are unsearchable" to their
subjects (Pr 25:3), but they are not so to their sovereign.—Matthew
Henry.
Verse 1. O LORD, thou hast searched me. I would
have you observe how thoroughly in the very first verse he
brings home the truth to his own heart and his own conscience:
"O LORD, thou hast searched me." He does not
slur it over as a general truth, in which such numbers shared
that he might hope to escape or evade its solemn appeal to
himself; but it is, "Thou hast searched me."—Barton
Bouchier.
Verse 1. Searched. The Hebrew word originally
means to dig, and is applied to the search for precious
metals (Job 28:3), but metaphorically to a moral inquisition
into guilt.—Joseph Addison Alexander.
Verses 1-5. God knows everything that passes in our
inmost souls better than we do ourselves: he reads our most
secret thoughts: all the cogitations of our hearts pass in
review before him; and he is as perfectly and entirely employed
in the scrutiny of the thoughts and actions of an individual, as
in the regulation of the most important concerns of the
universe. This is what we cannot comprehend; but it is what,
according to the light of reason, must be true, and, according
to revelation, is indeed true. God can do nothing imperfectly;
and we may form some idea of his superintending knowledge, by
conceiving what is indeed the truth, that all the powers of the
Godhead are employed, and solely employed, in the observation
and examination of the conduct of one individual. I say, this is
indeed the case, because all the powers of the Godhead are
employed upon the least as well as upon the greatest concerns of
the universe; and the whole mind and power of the Creator are as
exclusively employed upon the formation of a grub as of a world.
God knows everything perfectly, and he knows everything
perfectly at once. This, to a human understanding, would breed
confusion; but there can be no confusion in the Divine
understanding, because confusion arises from imperfection. Thus
God, without confusion, beholds as distinctly the actions of
every man, as if that man were the only created being, and the
Godhead were solely employed in observing him. Let this thought
fill your mind with awe and with remorse.—Henry Kirke
White, 1785-1806.
Verses 1-12.
O Lord, in me there lieth nought
But to thy search revealed lies;
For when I sit
Thou markest it;
No less thou notest when I rise;
Yea, closest closet of my thought
Hath open windows to thine eyes.
Thou walkest with me when I walk,
When to my bed for rest I go,
I find thee there,
And everywhere:
Not youngest thought in me doth grow,
No, not one word I cast to talk
But, yet unuttered, thou dost know.
If forth I march, thou goest before;
If back I turn, thou com'st behind:
So forth nor back
Thy guard I lack;
Nay, on me, too, thy hand I find.
Well, I thy wisdom may adore,
But never reach with earthly mind.
To shun thy notice, leave thine eye,
O whither might I take my way?
To starry sphere?
Thy throne is there.
To dead men's undelightsome stay?
There is thy walk, and there to lie
Unknown, in vain I should assay.
O sun, whom light nor flight can match!
Suppose thy lightful flightful wings
Thou lend to me,
And I could flee
As far as thee the evening brings:
Ev'n led to west he would me catch,
Nor should I lurk with western things.
Do thou thy best. O secret night,
In sable veil to cover me:
Thy sable veil
Shall vainly fail:
With day unmasked my night shall be;
For night is day, and darkness light,
O Father of all lights, to thee.
—Sir Philip Sidney, 1554-1586.
Verse 2. Thou. David makes the personal pronoun
the very frontispiece of the verse, and so says expressly and
distinctively to Jehovah, "Thou knowest"; thus
marking the difference between God and all others, as though he
said, "Thou, and thou alone, O God, in all the universe,
knowest altogether all that can be known concerning me, even to
my inmost thought, as well as outward act."—Martin
Geier.
Verse 2. Thou knowest my downsitting and mine
uprising. Does God care? Is he our Friend? Even in
such little matters as these, does he watch over us "to do
us good"? ...When we "sit down" he sees; when we
rise up he is there. Not an action is lost or a thought
overlooked. No wonder that, as these tiny miracles of care are
related by David, he adds the words, Such knowledge is too
wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it. We
get accustomed to the thought that God made the sun and sky, the
"moon and stars which he hath ordained", and we bow to
the fact that they are "the work of his fingers." Let
us go further! The coming in and going out of the
Christian is mentioned several times in Scripture as though it
were very important. So much hinges on these little words.
"David went out and came in before the people. And David
behaved himself wisely in all his ways; and the Lord was with
him": 1Sa 18:13-14. "The LORD shall preserve thy going
out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for
evermore": Ps 121:8. David was given both preservation
and wisdom in his "goings out" and
"comings in." Perhaps the latter was both cause and
effect of the first. It was needed, for many eyes were upon him,
and many eyes are upon us: are they not? Perhaps more than we
think.—Lady Hope, in "Between Times," 1884.
Verse 2. Downsitting and uprising.
"Uprising" following "downsitting"
is in the order of right sequence; for action ought to follow
meditation. Jacob saw the angels ascending to God before they
descended to service among mortals. Hence we are taught first to
join ourselves to God by meditation, and afterwards to repair to
the aid of our fellows.—Thomas Le Blanc.
Verse 2. Uprising may respect either rising from
bed, when the Lord knows whether the heart is still with him
(Ps 139:18); what sense is had of the Divine protection and
sustentation, and what thankfulness there is for the mercies of
the night past; and whether the voice of prayer and praise is
directed to him in the morning, as it should be (Ps 3:5 5:3); or
else rising from the table, when the Lord knows whether a
man's table has been his snare, and with what thankfulness he
rises from it for the favours he has received. The Targum
interprets this of rising up to go to war; which David did, in
the name and strength, and by the direction of the Lord.—John
Gill.
Verse 2. Thou understandest my thought afar off.
"My thought": that is, every thought, though
innumerable thoughts pass through me in a day. The divine
knowledge reaches to their source and fountain, before they are
our thoughts. If the Lord knows them before their existence,
before they can be properly called ours, much more doth he know
them when they actually spring up in us; he knows the tendency
of them, where the bird will alight when it is in flight; he
knows them exactly; he is therefore called a
"discerner" or criticizer of the heart: Heb 4:2.—Stephen
Charnock.
Verse 2. Thou understandest my thought afar off.
Not that God is at a distance from our thoughts; but he
understands them while they are far off from us, from our
knowledge, while they are potential, as gardeners know what
weeds such ground will bring forth, when nothing appears. De
31:21. "I know their imagination which they go about, even
now, before I have brought them into the land which I sware":
God knew their thoughts before they came into Canaan, what they
would be there. And how can it be, but that God should know all
our thoughts, seeing he made the heart, and it is in his hand
(Pr 21:1), seeing, "we live, and move, and have our
being" in God (Ac 17:28); seeing he is through us all, and
in us all (Eph 4:6). Look well to your hearts, thoughts,
risings, whatever comes into your mind; let no secret sins, or
corruptions, lodge there; think not to conceal anything from the
eye of God.—William Greenhill.
Verse 2. Thou understandest my thought afar off.
Though my thoughts be never so foreign and distant from one
another, thou understandest the chain of them, and canst make
out their connexion, when so many of them slip my notice that I
myself cannot.—Matthew Henry.
Verse 2. My thought. The er, rea, which
we have rendered "thought", signifies also a friend
or companion, on which account some read—thou
knowest what is nearest me afar off, a meaning more to the
point than any other, if it could be supported by example. The
reference would then be very appropriately to the fact that the
most distant objects are contemplated as near by God. Some for "afar
off" read beforehand, in which signification the
Hebrew word is elsewhere taken; as if he had said, O Lord, every
thought which I conceive in my heart is already known to thee
beforehand.—John Calvin.
Verse 2. Thought. In all affliction, in all
business, a man's best comfort is this, that all he does and
even all he thinks, God knows. In the Septuagint we read
dialogiomous, that is, "reasonings." God knows all our
inner ratiocination, all the dialogues, all the colloquies of
the soul with itself.—Thomas Le Blanc.
Verse 2. Thou understandest my thought. Before
men we stand as opaque beehives. They can see the thoughts go in
and out of us, but what work they do inside of a man they cannot
tell. Before God we are as glass beehives, and all that our
thoughts are doing within us he perfectly sees and
understands.—Henry Ward Beecher.
Verse 2. Thou understandest my thought afar off.
"Man may not see thee do an impious deed;
But God thy very inmost thought can read."
—Plutarch.
Verse 2. Afar off. This expression is, as in Ps
138:6, to be understood as contradicting the delusion (Job
22:12-14) that God's dwelling in heaven prevents him from
observing mundane things.—Lange's Commentary.
Verse 2. Afar off. Both in distance, however
far off a man may seek to hide his thoughts from God; and in
time, for God knows the human thought before man conceives it in
his heart, in his eternal prescience. The Egyptians called God
the "eye of the world."—Thomas Le Blanc.
Verses 2-4. Do not fancy that your demeanour, posture,
dress, or deportment are not under God's providence. You deceive
yourself. Do not think that your thoughts pass free from
inspection. The Lord understands them afar off. Think not that
your words are dissipated in the air before God can hear. Oh,
no! He knows them even when still upon your tongue. Do not think
that your ways are so private and concealed that there is none
to know or censure them. You mistake. God knows all your
ways.—Johann David Frisch, 1731.
Verse 3. Thou compassest my path and my lying down,
etc. The words that I have read unto you, seem to be a metaphor,
taken from soldiers surrounding the ways with an ambush, or
placing scouts and spies in every corner, to discover the enemy
in his march; "Thou compassest my path": thou
hast (as it were) thy spies over me, wheresoever I go. By "path"
is meant the outward actions and carriage of his ordinary
conversation. By "lying down" is signified to
us the private and close actions of his life; such as were
attended only by darkness and solitude. In Ps 36:4, it is said
of the wicked that "he deviseth mischief upon his
bed", to denote not only his perverse diligence, but also
his secrecy in it: and God is said to "hide his children in
the secret of his pavilion", so that these places of rest
and lying down are designed for secrecy and withdrawing. When a
man retires into his chamber, he does in a manner, for a while,
shut himself out of the world. And that this is the fine sense
of that expression of lying down appears from the next
words, "Thou art acquainted with all my ways";
where he collects in one word what he had before said in two;
or, it may come in by way of entrance and deduction, from the
former. As if he should say, Thou knowest what I do in my
ordinary converse with men, and also how I behave myself when I
am retired from them; therefore thou knowest all my
actions, since a man's actions may be reduced either to his
public or private deportment. By the other expression of "my
ways" is here meant the total of a man's behaviour
before God, whether in thoughts, words, or deeds, as is manifest
by comparing this with other verses.—Robert South.
Verse 3. Thou compassest my path. This is a
metaphor either from huntsmen watching all the motions and
lurking places of wild beasts, that they may catch them; or from
soldiers besieging their enemies in a city, and setting round
about them.—Matthew Pool.
Verse 3. Thou compassest, or feignest,
or wannest, my path; that is, discuss or try out to the
utmost, even tracing the footsteps, as the Greek signifieth.
Compare Job 31:4.—Henry Ainsworth.
Verse 3. Thou art acquainted with all my ways.
God takes notice of every step we take, every right step, and
every by step. He knows what rule we walk by, what end we walk
toward, what company we walk with.—Religious Tract
Society's Commentary.
Verse 3. Art acquainted, as by most familiar
intercourse, as if thou hadst always lived with me Hebrew
and thus become entirely familiar with my ways.—Henry
Cowles.
Verse 3. The Psalmist mentions four modes of human
existence; stationis, sessionis, itionis, cubationis;
because man never stayeth long in one mood, but in every change
the eyes of the Lord cease not to watch him.—Geier.
Verse 4. For there is not a word in my tongue,
etc. The words admit a double meaning. Accordingly some
understand them to imply that God knows what we are about to say
before the words are formed on our tongue; others, that though
we speak not a word, and try by silence to conceal our secret
intentions, we cannot elude his notice. Either rendering amounts
to the same thing, and it is of no consequence which we adopt.
The idea meant to be conveyed is, that while the tongue is the
index of thought to man, being the great medium of
communication, God, who knows the heart, is independent of
words. And use is made of the demonstrative particle lo!
to indicate emphatically that the innermost recesses of our
spirit stand present to his view.—John Calvin.
Verse 4. For there is not a word in my tongue,
etc. How needful it is to set a watch before the doors of our
mouth, to hold that unruly member of ours, the tongue, as with
bit and bridle. Some of you feel at times that you can scarcely
say a word, and the less you say the better. Well, it way be as
well; for great talkers are almost sure to make slips with their
tongue. It may be a good thing that you cannot speak much; for
in the multitude of words there lacketh not sin. Wherever you
go, what light, vain, and foolish conversations you hear! I am
glad not to be thrown into circumstances where I can hear it.
But with you it may be different. You may often repent of
speaking, you will rarely repent of silence. How soon angry
words are spoken! How soon foolish expressions drop from the
mouth! The Lord knows it all, marks it all, and did you carry
about with you a more solemn recollection of it you would be
more watchful than you are.—Joseph C. Philpot.
Verse 4. When there is not a word in my tongue, O
LORD, thou knowest all; so some read it; for thoughts are
words to God.—Matthew Henry.
Verse 4. Thou knowest it. The gods know what
passes in our minds without the aid of eyes, ears, or tongues;
on which divine omniscience is founded the feeling of men that,
when they wish in silence, or offer up a prayer for anything,
the gods hear them.—Cicero.
Verse 5. Thou hast beset me behind and before,
etc. There is here an insensible transition from God's
omniscience to his omnipresence, out of which the Scriptures
represent it as arising. "Behind and before",
i.e., on all sides. The idea of above and below is
suggested by the last clause. "Beset", besiege,
hem in, or closely surround. "Thy hand", or the
palm of thy hand, as the Hebrew word strictly denotes.—Joseph
Addison Alexander.
Verse 5. Thou hast beset me behind and before.
What would you say if, wherever you turned, whatever you were
doing, whatever thinking, whether in public or private, with a
confidential friend telling your secrets, or alone planning
them—if, I say, you saw an eye constantly fixed on you, from
whose watching, though you strove ever so much, you could never
escape...that could perceive your every thought? The supposition
is awful enough. There is such an Eye.—De Vere.
Verse 5. Thou hast beset me behind and before.
One who finds the way blocked up turns back; but David found
himself hedged in behind as well as before.—John Calvin.
Verse 5. Thou hast...laid thine hand upon me.
As by an arrest; so that I am thy prisoner, and cannot stir a
foot from thee.—John Trapp.
Verse 5. And laid thine hand upon me. To make
of me one acceptable to thyself. To rule me, to lead me, to
uphold me, to protect me; to restore me; in my growth, in my
walk, in my failures, in my affliction, in my despair.—Thomas
Le Blanc.
Verse 6. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
etc. When we are about to look upon God's perfections, we should
observe our own imperfections, and thereby learn to be the more
modest in our searching of God's unsearchable perfection: Such
knowledge, saith David, is too high for me, I cannot
attain unto it. Then do we see most of God, when we see him
incomprehensible, and do see ourselves swallowed up in the
thoughts of his perfection, and are forced to fall in admiration
of God, as here. "Such knowledge is too wonderful for
me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it."—David
Dickson.
Verse 6. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me.
Compared with our stinted knowledge, how amazing is the
knowledge of God! As he made all things, he must be intimately
acquainted, not only with their properties, but with their very
essence. His eye, at the same instant, surveys all the works of
his immeasurable creation. He observes, not only the complicated
system of the universe, but the slightest motion of the most
microscopic insect;—not only the most sublime conception of
angels, but the meanest propensity of the most worthless of his
creatures. At this moment he is listening to the praises
breathed by grateful hearts in distant worlds, and reading every
grovelling thought which passes though the polluted minds of the
fallen race of Adam...At one view, he surveys the past, the
present, and the future. No inattention prevents him from
observing; no defect of memory or of judgment obscures his
comprehension. In his remembrance are stored not only the
transactions of this world, but of all the worlds in the
universe;—not only the events of the six thousand years which
have passed since the earth was created, but of a duration
without beginning. Nay, things to come extending to a duration
without end, are also before him. An eternity past and an
eternity to come are, at the same moment, in his eye; and with
that eternal eye he surveys infinity. How amazing! How
inconceivable!—Henry Duncan (1774-1846), in "Sacred
Philosophy of the Seasons."
Verse 6. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me.
There is a mystery about the Divine Omnipresence, which we do
not learn to solve, after years of meditation. As God is a
simple spirit, without dimensions, parts, or susceptibility of
division, he is equally, that is, fully, present at all times in
all places. At any given moment he is not present partly here
and partly in the utmost skirt of the furthest system which
revolves about the dimmest telescopic star, as if like a galaxy
of perfection he stretched a sublime magnificence through
universal space, which admitted of separation and partition; but
he is present, with the totality of his glorious properties in
every point of space. This results undeniably from the simple
spirituality of the Great Supreme. All that God is in one place
he is in all places. All there is of God is in every place.
Indeed, his presence has no dependence on space or matter. His
attribute of essential presence were the same if universal
matter were blotted out. Only by a figure can God be said to be
in the universe; for the universe is comprehended by him. All
the boundless glory of the Godhead is essentially present at
every spot in his creation, however various may be the
manifestations of this glory at different times and places. Here
we have a case which ought to instruct and sober those, who, in
their shallow philosophy, demand a religion without mystery. It
would be a religion without God; for "who by searching can
find out God?"—James W. Alexander, in "The
(American) National Preacher", 1860.
Verse 7. Wither shall I go from thy spirit? By
the "spirit of God" we are not here, as in several
other parts of Scripture, to conceive of his power merely, but
his understanding and knowledge. In man the spirit is the seat
of intelligence, and so it is here in reference to God, as is
plain from the second part of the sentence, where by "the
face of God" is meant his knowledge or inspection.—John
Calvin.
Verse 7. Whither shall I go from thy spirit?
That is, either from thee, who art a spirit, and so canst pierce
and penetrate me; be as truly and essentially in the very bowels
and marrow of my soul, as my soul is intimately and essentially
in my body: "from thy spirit"; that is, from
thy knowledge and thy power; thy knowledge to detect and observe
me, thy power to uphold or crush me.—Ezekiel Hopkins,
1633-1690.
Verse 7. We may elude the vigilance of a human enemy
and place ourselves beyond his reach. God fills all
space—there is not a spot in which his piercing eye is not on
us, and his uplifted hand cannot find us out. Man must strike
soon if he would strike at all; for opportunities pass away from
him, and his victim may escape his vengeance by death. There is
no passing of opportunity with God, and it is this which makes
his long suffering a solemn thing. God can wait, for he has a
whole eternity before him in which he may strike. "All
things are open and naked to him with whom we have to
do."—Frederick William Robertson, 1816-1853.
Verse 7. Whither shall I go, etc. A heathen
philosopher once asked, "Where is God?" The Christian
answered, "Let me first ask you, Where is he not?"—John
Arrowsmith, 1602-1659.
Verse 7. Whither shall I flee from thy presence?
That exile would be strange that could separate us from God. I
speak not of those poor and common comforts, that in all lands
and coasts it is his sun that shines, his elements of earth or
water that bear us, his air we breathe; but of that special
privilege, that his gracious presence is ever with us; that no
sea is so broad as to divide us from his favour; that
wheresoever we feed, he is our host; wheresoever we rest, the
wings of his blessed providence are stretched over us. Let my
soul be sure of this, though the whole world be traitors to
me.—Thomas Adams.
Verse 7. Whither shall I flee? etc. Surely no
whither: they that attempt it, do but as the fish which swimmeth
to the length of the line, with a hook in the mouth.—John
Trapp.
Verse 7. Thy presence. The presence of God's
glory is in heaven; the presence of his power on earth; the
presence of his justice in hell; and the presence of his grace
with his people. If he deny us his powerful presence, we fall
into nothing; if he deny us his gracious presence, we fall into
sin; if he deny us his merciful presence, we fall into hell.—John
Mason.
Verse 7. Thy presence. The celebrated Linnaeus
testified in his conversation, writings, and actions, the
greatest sense of God's presence. So strongly indeed was he
impressed with the idea, that he wrote over the door of his
library: "Innocue vivite, Numen adest—Live
innocently: God is present."—George Seaton Bowes,
in "Information and Illustration, "1884.
Verses 7-11. You will never be neglected by the Deity,
though you were so small as to sink into the depths of the
earth, or so lofty as to fly up to heaven; but you will suffer
from the gods the punishment due to you, whether you abide here,
or depart to Hades, or are carried to a place still more wild
than these.—Plato.
Verses 7-12. The Psalm was not written by a Pantheist.
The Psalmist speaks of God as a Person everywhere present in
creation, yet distinct from creation. In these verses he says, "Thy
spirit...thy presence...thou art there...thy
hand...thy right hand...darkness hideth not from thee."
God is everywhere, but he is not everything.—William Jones,
in "A Homiletic Commentary on the Book of Psalms,"
1879.
Verse 8. If I make my bed. Properly, "If I
strew or spread my couch." If I should seek that as a place
to lie down.—Albert Barnes.
Verse 8. Hell in some places in Scripture
signifies the lower parts of the earth, without relation to
punishment: If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there; if I
make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. By "heaven"
he means the upper region of the world, without any respect to
the state of blessedness; and "hell" is the
most opposite and remote in distance, without respect to misery.
As if he had said, Let me go whither I will, thy presence finds
me out.—Joseph Caryl.
Verse 8. Thou art there. Or, more emphatically
and impressively in the original, "Thou!" That
is, the Psalmist imagines himself in the highest heaven, or in
the deepest abodes of the dead,—and lo! God is there also; he
has not gone from him! he is still in the presence of the
same God!—Albert Barnes.
Verse 8. Thou art there. This is not meant of
his knowledge, for that the Psalmist had spoken of before: Ps
139:2-3, "Thou understandest my thought afar off: thou art
acquainted with all my ways." Besides, "thou art
there"; not thy wisdom or knowledge, but thou, thy
essence, not only thy virtue. For having before spoken of his
omniscience, he proves that such knowledge could not be in God
unless he were present in his essence in all places, so as to be
excluded from none. He fills the depths of hell, the extension
of the earth, and the heights of the heavens. When the Scripture
mentions the power of God only, it expresses it by hand or arm;
but when it mentions the spirit of God, and doth not intend the
third person of the Trinity, it signifies the nature and essence
of God; and so here, when he saith, "Whither shall I go
from thy spirit?" he adds exegetically, "whither
shall I flee from thy presence?" or Hebrew, "face";
and the face of God in Scripture signifies the essence of God:
Ex 33:20,23, "Thou canst not see my face", and
"my face shall not be seen"; the effects of his power,
wisdom, providence, are seen, which are his back parts, but not
his face. The effects of his power and wisdom are seen in the
world, but his essence is invisible, and this the Psalmist
elegantly expresses.—Stephen Charnook.
Verse 9. The wings of the morning, is an
elegant metaphor; and by them we may conjecture is meant the
sunbeams, called "wings" because of their swift
and speedy motion, making their passage so sudden and
instantaneous, as that they do prevent the observation of the
eye; called "the wings of the morning" because
the dawn of the morning comes flying in upon these wings of the
sun, and brings light along with it; and, by beating and fanning
of these wings, scatters the darkness before it.
"Now", saith the Psalmist, "if I could pluck
these wings of the morning", the sunbeams, if I could imp
(graft) my own shoulders with them; if I should fly as far and
as swift as light, even in an instant, to the uttermost parts of
the sea; yea, if in my flight I could spy out some solitary
rock, so formidable and dismal as if we might almost call in
question whether ever a Providence had been there; if I could
pitch there on the top of it, where never anything had made its
abode, but coldness, thunders, and tempests; yet there shall thy
hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me."—Ezekiel
Hopkins.
Verse 9. The wings of the morning. This figure
to a Western is not a little obscure. For my part, I cannot
doubt that we are to understand certain beautiful light clouds
as thus poetically described. I have observed invariably, that
in the late spring time, in summer, and yet more especially in
the autumn, white clouds are to be seen in Palestine. They only
occur at the earliest hours of morning, just previous to and at
the time of sunrise. It is the total absence of clouds at all
other parts of the day, except during the short period of the
winter rains, that lends such striking solemnity and force to
those descriptions of the Second Advent where our Lord is
represented as coming in the clouds. This feature of his majesty
loses all its meaning in lands like ours, in which clouds are of
such common occurrence that they are rarely absent from the sky.
The morning clouds of summer and autumn are always of a
brilliant silvery white, save at such times as they are dyed
with the delicate opal tints of dawn. They hang low upon the
mountains of Judah, and produce effects of undescribable beauty,
as they float far down in the valleys, or rise to wrap
themselves around the summit of the hills. In almost every
instance, by about seven o'clock the heat has dissipated these
fleecy clouds, and to the vivid Eastern imagination morn has
faded her outstretched wings.—James Neil.
Verse 9. If I take the wings of the morning.
The point of comparison appears to be the incalculable velocity
of light.—Joseph Addison Alexander.
Verses 9-10. When we think that we fly from God, in
running out of one place into another, we do but run from one
hand to the other; for there is no place where God is not, and
whithersoever a rebellious sinner doth run, the hand of God will
meet with him to cross him, and hinder his hoped for good
success, although he securely prophesieth never so much good
unto himself in his journey. What! had Jonah offended the winds
or the waters, that they bear him such enmity? The winds and the
waters and all God's creatures are wont to take God's part
against Jonah, or any rebellious sinner. For though God in the
beginning gave power to man over all creatures to rule them, yet
when man sins, God giveth power and strength to his creatures to
rule and bridle man. Therefore even he that now was lord over
the waters, now the waters are lord over him.—Henry Smith.
Verses 9-10.
Should fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam
Flames on the Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to me:
Since GOD is ever present, ever felt,
In the void waste as in the city full;
And where he vital breathes, there must be joy,
When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there with new powers,
Will rising wonders sing: I cannot go
Where universal love smiles not around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their sons:
From seeming evil still deducing good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progression.
—James Thomson, 1700-1748.
Verse 11. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover
me, etc. The foulest enormities of human conduct have always
striven to cover themselves with the shroud of night. The thief,
the counterfeiter, the assassin, the robber, the murderer, and
the seducer, feel comparatively safe in the midnight darkness,
because no human eye can scrutinize their actions. But what if
it should turn out that sable night, to speak paradoxically, is
an unerring photographer! What if wicked men, as they open their
eyes from the sleep of death, in another world, should find the
universe hung round with faithful pictures of their earthly
enormities, which they had supposed for ever lost in the
oblivion of night! What scenes for them to gaze at for ever!
They may now, indeed, smile incredulously at such a suggestion;
but the disclosures of chemistry may well make them tremble.
Analogy does make it a scientific probability that every action
of man, however deep the darkness in which it was performed, has
imprinted its image on nature, and that there may be tests which
shall draw it into daylight, and make it permanent so long as
materialism endures.—Edward Hitchcock, in "The
Religion of Geology," 1851.
Verse 12. The darkness hideth not from thee.
Though the place where we sin be to men as dark as Egypt, yet to
God it is as light as Goshen.—William Secker.
Verse 13. Thou hast possessed my reins. From
the sensitiveness to pain of this part of the body, it was
regarded by the Hebrews as the seat of sensation and feeling, as
also of desire and longing (Ps 72:21 Job 16:13 19:27). It is
sometimes used of the inner nature generally (Ps 16:7 Jer
20:12), and specially of the judgment or direction of reason (Jer
11:20 12:2).—William Lindsay Alexander, in Kitto's
Cyclopaedia.
Verse 13. Thou hast possessed my reins. The reins
are made specially prominent in order to mark them, the seat of
the most tender, most secret emotions, as the work of him who
trieth the heart and the reins.—Franz Delitzsch.
Verse 13. Thou hast covered me in my mother's womb.
The word here rendered cover means properly to
interweave; to weave; to knit together, and the literal
translation would be, "Thou hast woven me in my mother's
womb", meaning that God had put his parts together, as one
who weaves cloth, or who makes a basket. So it is rendered by De
Wette and by Gesenius (Lex.). The original word has,
however, also the idea of protecting, as in a booth or hut,
woven or knit together,—to wit, of boughs and branches. The
former signification best suits the connection; and then the
sense would be, that as God had made him—as he had formed his
members, and united them in a bodily frame and form before he
was born—he must be able to understand all his thoughts and
feelings. As he was not concealed from God before he saw the
light, so he could not be anywhere.—Albert Barnes.
Verse 14. I will praise thee, etc. All God's
works are admirable, man wonderfully wonderful. "Marvellous
are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well." What
infers he on all this? Therefore "I will praise
thee." If we will not praise him that made us, will he
not repent that he made us? Oh that we knew what the saints do
in heaven, and how the sweetness of that doth swallow up all
earthly pleasures! They sing honour and glory to the Lord. Why?
Because he hath created all things: Re 4:11. When we behold an
exquisite piece of work, we presently enquire after him that
made it, purposely to commend his skill: and there is no greater
disgrace to an artist, than having perfected a famous work, to
find it neglected, no man minding it, or so much as casting an
eye upon it. All the works of God are considerable, and man is
bound to this contemplation. "When I consider the
heavens", etc., I say, "What is man?." Ps 8:3-4.
He admires the heavens, but his admiration reflects upon man. Quis
homo? There is no workman but would have his instruments
used, and used to that purpose for which they were made...Man is
set like a little world in the midst of the great, to glorify
God; this is the scope and end of his creation.—Thomas
Adams.
Verse 14. I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
The term "fearful" is sometimes to be taken
subjectively, far our being possessed of fear. In this sense it
signifies the same as timid. Thus the prophet was directed to
say to them that were of a "fearful heart, be strong."
At other times it is taken objectively, for that property in an
object the contemplation of which excites fear in the beholder.
Thus it is said of God that he is "fearful in
praises", and that it is a "fearful thing to fall into
the hands of the living God." In this sense it is
manifestly to be understood in the passage now under
consideration. The human frame is so admirably constructed, so
delicately combined, and so much in danger of being dissolved by
innumerable causes, that the more we think of it the more we
tremble, and wonder at our own continued existence.
"How poor, how rich, how abject, how august,
How complicate, how wonderful is man!
How passing wonder he who made him such,
Who mingled in our make such strange extremes
Of different natures, marvellously mixed!
Helpless immortal, insect infinite,
A worm, a god—I tremble at myself!"
To do justice to the subject, it would be necessary to be
well acquainted with anatomy. I have no doubt that a thorough
examination of that "substance which God hath curiously
wrought" (Ps 139:15), would furnish abundant evidence of
the justness of the Psalmist's words; but even those things
which are manifest to common observation may be sufficient for
this purpose. In general it is observable that the human frame
abounds with avenues at which enter every thing conducive to
preservation and comfort, and every thing that can excite alarm.
Perhaps there is not one of these avenues but what may become an
inlet to death, nor one of the blessings of life but what may be
the means of accomplishing it. We live by inhalation, but we
also die by it. Diseases and death in innumerable forms are
conveyed by the very air we breathe. God hath given us a relish
for divers aliments, and rendered them necessary to our
subsistence: yet, from the abuse of them, what a train of
disorders and premature deaths are found amongst men! And, when
there is no abuse, a single delicious morsel may, by the evil
design of another, or even by mere accident, convey poison
through all our veins, and in one hour reduce the most athletic
form to a corpse.
The elements of fire and water, without which we could not
subsist, contain properties which in a few moments would be able
to destroy us; nor can the utmost circumspection at all times
preserve us from their destructive power. A single stroke on the
head may divest us of reason or of life. A wound or a bruise of
the spine may instantly deprive the lower extremities of all
sensation. If the vital parts be injured, so as to suspend the
performance of their mysterious functions, how soon is the
constitution broken up! By means of the circulation of the
blood, how easily and suddenly are deadly substances diffused
throughout the frame! The putridity of a morbid subject has been
imparted to the very hand stretched out to save it. The poisoned
arrow, the envenomed fang, the hydrophobic saliva, derive from
hence their fearful efficacy. Even the pores of the skin,
necessary as they are to life, may be the means of death. Not
only are poisonous substances hereby admitted, but, when
obstructed by surrounding damps, the noxious humours of the
body, instead of being emitted, are retained in the system, and
become productive of numerous diseases, always afflictive, and
often fatal to life. Instead of wondering at the number of
premature deaths that are constantly witnessed, there is far
greater reason to wonder that there are no more, and that any of
us survive to seventy or eighty years of age.
"Our life contains a thousand springs,
And dies if one be gone:
Strange that a harp of thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long."
Nor is this all. If we are "fearfully made"
as to our animal frame, it will be found that we are much more
so considered as moral and accountable beings. In what relates
to our animal nature, we are in most instances constructed like
other animals; but, in what relates to us as moral agents, we
stand distinguished from all the lower creation. We are made for
eternity. The present life is only the introductory part of our
existence. It is that, however, which stamps a character on all
that follows. How fearful is our situation! What innumerable
influences is the mind exposed to from the temptations which
surround us! Not more dangerous to the body is the pestilence
that walketh in darkness than these are to the soul. Such is the
construction of our nature that the very word of life, if heard
without regard becomes a savour of death unto death. What
consequences hang upon the small and apparently trifling
beginnings of evil! A wicked thought may issue in a wicked
purpose, this purpose in a wicked action, this action in a
course of conduct, this course may draw into its vortex millions
of our fellow creatures, and terminate in perdition, both to
ourselves and them. The whole of this process was exemplified in
the case of Jeroboam, the son of Nebat. When placed over the ten
tribes, he first said in his heart, "If this people
go up to sacrifice at Jerusalem, their hearts will turn to
Rehoboam; and thus shall the kingdom return to the house of
David." 1Ki 12:26-30. On this he took counsel, and made the
calves of Dan and Bethel. This engaged him in a course of
wickedness, from which no remonstrances could reclaim him. Nor
was it confined to himself; for he "made all Israel to
sin." The issue was, not only their destruction as a
nation, but, to all appearance, the eternal ruin of himself and
great numbers of Iris followers. Such were the fruits of an evil
thought! Oh, my soul, tremble at thyself! Tremble at the
fearfulness of thy situation; and commit thine immortal all into
his hands "who is able to keep thee from falling, and to
present thee faultless before the presence of his glory with
exceeding joy."—Andrew Fuller.
Verse 14. I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Never was so terse and expressive a description of the physical
conformation of man given by any human being. So "fearfully"
are we made, that there is not an action or gesture of our
bodies, which does not, apparently, endanger some muscle, vein,
or sinew, the rupture of which would destroy either life or
health. We are so "wonderfully" made, that our
organization infinitely surpasses, in skill, contrivance,
design, and adaptation of means to ends, the most curious and
complicated piece of mechanism, not only ever executed "by
art and man's device", but ever conceived by human
imagination.—Richard Warner, 1828.
Verse 14. I am wonderfully made. Take notice of
the curious frame of the body. David saith, "I am
wonderfully made"; acu pictus sum, so the Vulgate
rendereth it, "painted as with a needle", like a
garment of needlework, of divers colours, richly embroidered
with nerves and veins. What shall I speak of the eye, wherein
there is such curious workmanship, that many upon the first
sight of it have been driven to acknowledge God? Of the hand,
made to open and shut, and to serve the labours and ministries
of nature without wasting and decay for many years? If they
should be of marble or iron, with such constant use they would
soon wear out; and yet now they are of flesh they last so long
as life lasts. Of the head? fitly placed to be the seat of the
senses, to command and direct the rest of the members. Of the
lungs? a frail piece of flesh, yet, though in continual action,
of a long use. It were easy to enlarge upon this occasion; but I
am to preach a sermon, not to read an anatomy lecture. In short,
therefore, every part is so placed and framed, as if God had
employed his whole wisdom about it. But as yet we have spoken
but of the casket wherein the jewel lieth. The soul, that divine
spark and blast, how quick, nimble, various, and indefatigable
in its motions! how comprehensive in its capacities! how it
animates the body, and is like God himself, all in every part!
Who can trace the flights of reason? What a value hath God set
upon the soul! He made it after his image, he redeemed it with
Christ's blood.—Thomas Manton.
Verse 14. What is meant by saying that the soul is in
the body, any more than saying that a thought or a hope is in a
stone or a tree? How is it joined to the body? what keeps
it one with the body? what keeps it in the body? what prevents
it any moment from separating from the body? When two things
which we see are united, they are united by some connection
which we can understand. A chain or cable keeps a ship in its
place; we lay the foundation of a building in the earth, and the
building endures. But what is it which unites soul and body how
do they touch how do they keep together? how is it we do not
wander to the stars or the depths of the sea, or to and fro as
chance may carry us, while our body remains where it was on
earth? So far from its being wonderful that the body one day
dies, how is it that it is made to live and move at all? how is
it that it keeps from dying a single hour? Certainly it is as
uncomprehensible as anything can be, how soul and body can make
up one man; and, unless we had the instance before our eyes, we
should seem in saying so to be using words without meaning. For
instance, would it not be extravagant and idle to speak of time
as deep or high, or of space as quick or slow? Not less idle,
surely, it perhaps seems to some races of spirits to say that
thought and mind have a body, which in the case of man they
have, according to God's marvellous will.—John Henry
Newman, in Parochial Sermons, 1839.
Verse 14. Moses describes the creation of man (Ge
2:7): "The Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground,
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man
became a living soul." Now what God did then immediately,
he doth still by means. Do not think that God made man at first,
and that ever since men have made one another. No (saith Job),
"he that made me in the womb made him": Job 31:15.
David will inform us: "I am fearfully and wonderfully
made: marvellous are thy works", etc. As if he had
said, Lord, I am wonderfully made, and thou hast made me. I am a
part or parcel of thy marvellous works, yea, the breviate or
compendium of them all. The frame of the body (much more the
frame of the soul, most of all the frame of the new creature in
the soul) is God's work, and it is a wonderful work of God. And
therefore David could not satisfy himself in the bare
affirmation of this, but enlargeth in the explication of it in
Ps 139:15-16. David took no notice of father or mother but
ascribed the whole efficiency of himself to God. And indeed
David was as much made by God as Adam; and so is every son of
Adam. Though we are begotten and born of our earthly parents,
yet God is the chief parent and the only fashioner of us all.
Thus graciously spake Jacob to his brother Esau, demanding,
"Who are those with thee? And he said, The children which
God hath graciously given thy servant": Ge 33:5. Therefore,
as the Spirit of God warns, "Know ye that the Lord he is
God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves" (Ps
100:3); which as it is true especially of our spiritual making,
so 'tis true also of our natural.—Joseph Caryl.
Verse 14. Those who were skilful in Anatomy among the
ancients, concluded, from the outward and inward make of a human
body, that it was the work of a Being transcendently wise and
powerful. As the world grew more enlightened in this art, their
discoveries gave them fresh opportunities of admiring the
conduct of Providence in the formation of a human body. Galen
was converted by his dissections, and could not but own a
Supreme Being upon a survey of this his handiwork. There are,
indeed, many parts, of which the old anatomists did not know the
certain use; but as they saw that most of those which they
examined were adapted with admirable art to their several
functions, they did not question but those whose uses they could
not determine, were contrived with the same wisdom for
respective ends and purposes. Since the circulation of the blood
has been found out, and many other great discoveries have been
made by our modern anatomists, we see new wonders in the human
frame, and discern several important uses for those parts, which
uses the ancients knew nothing of. In short, the body of man is
such a subject as stands the utmost test of examination. Though
it appears formed with the nicest wisdom upon the most
superficial survey of it, it still mends upon the search, and
produces our surprise and amazement in proportion as we pry into
it.—The Spectator.
Verses 14-16. The subject, from Ps 139:14 and Ps
139:16 inclusive, might have been much more particularly
illustrated; but we are taught, by the peculiar delicacy of
expression in the Sacred Writings, to avoid, as in this case,
the entering too minutely into anatomical details.—Adam
Clarke.
Verse 15. My substance was not hid from thee,
etc. What deeper solitude, what state of concealment more
complete, than that of the babe as yet unborn Yet the Psalmist
represents the Almighty as present even there. "My
substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and
curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth."
The whole image and train of thought is one of striking beauty.
We see the wonderful work of the human body, with all its
complex tissue of bones, and joints, and nerves, and veins, and
arteries growing up, and fashioned, as it had been a piece of
rich and curious embroidery under the hand of the manufacturer.
But it is not the work itself that we are now called on to
admire. The contexture is indeed fearful and wonderful; but how
much more when we reflect that the divine Artificer wrought
within the dark and narrow confines of the womb. Surely the
darkness is no darkness with him who could thus work. Surely the
blackest night, the closest and most artificial recess, the most
subtle disguises and hypocrisies are all seen through, are all
naked and bare before him whose "eyes did see our
substance yet being imperfect." The night is as clear
as the day; and secret sins are set in the light of his
countenance, no less than those which are open and scandalous,
committed before the sun or on the house top. And if "in
his book all our members are written, which day by day were
fashioned, when as yet there was none of them", surely the
actions of these members, now that they are grown, or growing,
to maturity, and called upon to fulfil the functions for which
they were created, shall be all noted down; and none be
contrived so secretly, but that when the books are opened at the
last day, it shall be found written therein to justify or to
condemn us. Such is the main lesson which David himself would
teach us in this Psalm,—the omnipresence and omniscience
of Almighty God. My brethren, let us reflect for a little upon
this deep mystery; that he, "the High and Lofty One that
inhabiteth eternity" is about our path and about our bed,
and spies out all our ways; that go whither we will he is there;
that say what we will, there is not a word on our tongue but he
knoweth it altogether. The reflection is, indeed, mysterious,
but it is also most profitable.—Charles Wordsworth, in
"Christian Boyhood," 1846.
Verse 15. My substance was not hid from thee.
Should an artisan intend commencing a work in some dark cave
where there was no light to assist him, how would he set his
hand to it? in what way would he proceed? and what kind of
workmanship would it prove? But God makes the most perfect work
of all in the dark, for he fashions man in the mother's womb.—John
Calvin.
Verse 15. When I was made in secret, etc. The
author uses a metaphor derived from the most subtle art of the
Phrygian workman:
"When I was formed in the secret place,
When I was wrought with a needle in the depths of the
earth."
Whoever observes this (in truth he will not be able to
observe it in the common translations), and at the same time
reflects upon the wonderful mechanism of the human body; the
various implications of the veins, arteries, fibres, and
membranes; the "undescribable texture" of the whole
fabric—may, indeed, feel the beauty and gracefulness of this
well adapted metaphor, but will miss much of its force and
sublimity, unless he be apprised that the art of designing in
needlework was wholly dedicated to the use of the sanctuary,
and, by a direct precept of the divine law, chiefly employed in
furnishing a part of the sacerdotal habit, and the vails for the
entrance of the Tabernacle. Ex 28:39 26:36 27:16. Thus the poet
compares the wisdom of the divine Artificer with the most
estimable of human arts—that art which was dignified by being
consecrated altogether to the use of religion; and the
workmanship of which was so exquisite, that even the sacred
writings seem to attribute it to a supernatural guidance. See Ex
35:30-35.—Robert Lowth (1710-1787), in
"Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews."
Verse 15. Curiously wrought in the lowest part, of
the earth, that is, in the womb: as curious workmen, when
they have some choice piece in hand, they perfect it in private,
and then bring it forth to light for men to gaze at. What a
wonderful piece of work is man's head (God's masterpiece in this
little world), the chief seat of the soul, that cura Divini
ingenii, as Favorinus calls it. Many locks and keys argue
the value of the jewel that they keep, and many papers wrapping
the token within them, the price of the token. The tables of the
testament, first laid up in the ark, secondly, the ark bound
about with pure gold; thirdly, overshadowed with cherubim's
wings; fourthly, enclosed within the vail of the Tabernacle;
fifthly, with the compass of the Tabernacle; sixthly, with a
court about all; seventhly, with a treble covering of goats',
rams', and badgers' skins above all; they must needs be precious
tables. So when the Almighty made man's head (the seat of the
reasonable soul), and overlaid it with hair, skin, and flesh,
like the threefold covering of the Tabernacle, and encompassed
it with a skull and bones like boards of cedar, and afterwards
with divers skins like silken curtains; and lastly, enclosed it
with the yellow skin that covers the brain (like the purple
veil), he would doubtless have us to know it was made for some
great treasure to be put therein. How and when the reasonable
soul is put into this curious cabinet philosophers dispute many
things, but can affirm nothing of certainty.—Abraham
Wright.
Verse 15. In the lowest parts of the earth.
From this remarkable expression, which, in the original, and as
elsewhere used, denotes the region of the dead—Sheol,
or Hades—it would appear that it is not only his
formation in the womb the Psalmist here contemplates, but
also—regarding the region of the dead as the womb of
resurrection life—the refashioning of the body hereafter, and
its new birth to the life immortal, which will be no less "marvellous"
a work, but rather more so, than the first fashioning of man's
"substance." Confirmed by the words of Ps
139:18—"When I awake, I am still with thee"—the
same language before employed to express the resurrection hope,
Ps 17:15; when there shall be purposes and "precious
counsels" with respect to his redeemed, in anticipation of
which they may repeat this Psalm with renewed feelings of wonder
and admiration.—William De Burgh.
Verse 15-16. The word substance represents
different words in these verses. In Ps 139:15 it is "my
strength", or "my bones"; in Ps 139:16 the word
is usually rendered "embryo": but "clew"
(life a ball yet to be unwound) finds favour with great
scholars. In the lowest parts of the earth denotes no
subterranean limbo or workshop; but is a poetical parallel to
"in secret." Which in continuance were fashioned is
wrong. The margin, though also wrong, indicates the right way:
"my days were determined before one of them was."—David
M`laren, in "The Book of Psalms in Metre," 1883.
Verse 16. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet
being unperfect, etc. From whence we may learn, first, not
to be proud of what we are; all's the work of God. How beautiful
or comely, how wise or holy soever you are, 'tis not of
yourselves. What hath any man, either in naturals or
supernaturals, which he hath not received? Secondly, despise not
what others are or have, though they are not such exact pieces,
though they have not such excellent endowments as yourselves;
yet they are what God hath made them. Thirdly, despise not what
yourselves are. Many are ashamed to be seen as God made them;
few ale ashamed to be seen what the devil hath made them. Many
are troubled at small defects in the outward man; few are
troubled at the greatest deformities of the inward man: many buy
artificial beauty to supply the natural; few spiritual, to
supply the defects of the supernatural beauty of the soul.—Abraham
Wright.
Verse 16. My substance yet being unperfect. One
word in the original, which means strictly anything rolled
together as a ball, and hence is generally supposed to mean
here the foetus or embryo. Hupfeld, however, prefers to
understand it of the ball of life, as consisting of a number of
different threads ("the days" of Ps 139:16—see
margin) which are first a compact mass as it were, and which are
then unwound as life runs on.—J.J. Stewart Perowne.
Verse 16. A skilful architect before he builds draws a
model, or gives a draught of the building in his book, or upon a
table; there he will show you every room and contrivance: in his
book are all the parts of the building written, while as yet
there are none of them, or before any of them are framed and set
up. In allusion to architects and other artisans, David speaks
of God, In thy book all my members were written; that is,
Thou hast made me as exactly as if thou hadst drawn my several
members and my whole proportion with a pen or pencil in a book,
before thou wouldst adventure to form me up. The Lord uses no
book, no pen to decipher his work. He had the perfect idea of
all things in himself from everlasting; but he may well be said
to work as by pattern, whose work is the most perfect
pattern.—Joseph Caryl.
Verse 17. How precious also are thy thoughts unto
me, etc. So far from thinking it a hardship to be subject to
this scrutiny, he counts it a most valuable privilege. However
others may regard this truth, "to me", my
judgment and my feelings, "how costly" valuable
"are thy thoughts", i.e. thy perpetual
attention to me.—Joseph Addison Alexander.
Verse 17. How precious also are thy thoughts unto
me, O God! How cold and poor are our warmest thoughts
towards God! How unspeakably loving and gloriously rich are his
thoughts towards us! Compare Eph 1:18: "The riches of the
glory of his inheritance in the saints."—A.R. Fausset.
Verse 17. How precious...how great is the sum of
them? Our comforts vie with the number of our sorrows, and
win the game. The mercies of God passed over in a gross sum
breed no admiration; but cast up the particulars, and then
arithmetic is too dull an art to number them. As many dusts as a
man's hands can hold, is but his handful of so many dusts; but
tell them one by one, and they exceed all numeration. It was but
a crown which king Solomon wore; but weigh the gold, tell the
precious stones, value the richness of them, and what was it
then?—Thomas Adams.
Verses 17-18. Behold David's love to God; sleeping and
waking his mind runs upon him. There needs no arguments to bring
those to our remembrance whom we love. We neglect ourselves to
think upon them. A man in love wastes his spirits, vexes his
mind, neglects his meat, regards not his business, his mind
still feels on that he loves. When men love that they should
not, there is more need of a bridle to keep them from thinking
of it, than of spurs to keep them to it. Try thy love of God by
this. If thou thinkest not often of God, thou lovest him not. If
thou canst not satisfy thyself with profits, pleasures, friends,
and other worldly objects, but thou must turn other businesses
aside, that thou mayest daily think of God, then thou lovest
him.—Francis Taylor, in "God's Glory in Man's
Happiness," 1654.
Verses 17-18. Mercies are either ordinary or
extraordinary—our common necessaries, or the remarkable
supplies which we receive now and then at the hand of God. Thou
must not only praise him for some extraordinary mercy, that
comes with such pomp and observation that all thy neighbours
take notice of it with thee, as the mercy which Zacharias and
Elizabeth had in their son, that was noised about all the
country (Lu 1:65); but also for ordinary every day mercies: for
first, we are unworthy of the least mercy (Ge 32:10), and
therefore God is worthy of praise for the least, because it is
more than he owes us. Secondly, these common, ordinary mercies
are many. Thus David enhances the mercies of this kind,—O
God, how great is the sum of them. "If I should count
them, they are more in number than the sand; when I wake I am
still with thee." As if he had said, There is not a point
of time wherein thou art not doing me good; as soon as I open my
eyes in the morning I have a new theme, in some fresh mercies
given since I closed them over night, to employ my meditations
that are full of praise. Many little items make together a great
sum. What is lighter than a grain of sand, yet what is heavier
than the sand upon the seashore? As little sins (such as vain
thoughts and idle words), because of their multitude, arise to a
great guilt, and will bring in a long bill, a heavy reckoning at
last; so, ordinary mercies, what they want in their size of some
other great mercies, have compensated it in their number. Who
will not say that a man shows greater kindness in maintaining
one at his table with ordinary fare all the year than in
entertaining him at a great feast twice or thrice in the same
time?—William Gurnall.
Verse 18. They are more in number than the sand.
Pindar says, that sand flies number (Olymp. Ode 2). The
Pythian oracle indeed boastingly said, I know the number of the
sand, and the measure of the sea (Herodot. Clio. l. i. c.
47). It is to this that Lucan may refer when he says, measure is
not wanting to the ocean, or number to the sand (Pharsal.
l. 5, v. 182).—Samuel Burder.
Verse 18. If I should count them, they are more in
number than the sand.
If all his glorious deeds my song would tell,
The shore's unnumbered stones I might recount as well.
—Pindar, B.C. 518-442.
Verse 18. When I awake, I am still with thee.
It is the great advantage of a Christian, which he has above
other men, that he has his friends always about him, and (if the
fault be not his own) need never to be absent from them. In the
friendship and converse of the world, we use to say,
"Friends must part", and those who have delight and
satisfaction in one another's society must be content to leave
it, and to be taken off from it. But this is the privilege of a
believer that undertakes communion with God, that it is possible
for him always to be with him. Again, in human converse and
society we know it is ordinary for friends to dream that they
are in company with one another; but when they awake they are a
great way off. But a Christian that converses with God, and has
his thoughts fastened upon him, when he awakes he is still with
him, which is that which is here exhibited to us in the example
of the prophet David. A godly soul should fall asleep in God's
arms, like a child in the mother's lap; it should be sung and
lulled to sleep with "songs of the night." And this
will make him the fitter for converse with God the next day
after. This is the happiness of a Christian that is careful to
lie down with God, that he finds his work still as he left it,
and is in the same disposition when he rises as he was at night
when he lay down to rest. As a man that winds up his watch over
night, he finds it going the next morning; so is it also, as I
may say, with a Christian that winds up his heart. This is a
good observation to be remembered, especially in the evening
afore the Sabbath.—Thomas Horton, —1673.
Verse 18. When I awake, I am still with thee.
It is no small advantage to the holy life to "begin the day
with God." The saints are wont to leave their hearts with
him over night, that they may find them with him in the morning.
Before earthly things break in upon us, and we receive
impressions from abroad, it is good to season the heart with
thoughts of God, and to consecrate the early and virgin
operations of the mind before they are prostituted to baser
objects. When the world gets the start of religion in the
morning, it can hardly overtake it all the day; and so the heart
is habituated to vanity all the day long. But when we begin with
God, we take him along with us to all the business and comforts
of the day; which, being seasoned with his love and fear, are
the more sweet and savoury to us.—Thomas Case
(1598-1682), in the Epistle Dedicatory to "The Morning
Exercise."
Verse 18. When I awake. Accustom yourself to a
serious meditation every morning. Fresh airing our souls in
heaven will engender in us a purer spirit and nobler thoughts. A
morning seasoning will secure us for all the day. Though other
necessary thoughts about our calling will and must come in, yet
when we have dispatched them, let us attend to our morning theme
as our chief companion. As a man that is going with another
about some considerable business, suppose to Westminster, though
he meets with several friends on the way, and salutes some, and
with others with whom he has some affairs he spends some little
time, yet he quickly returns to his companion, and both together
go to their intended stage. Do thus in the present case. Our
minds are active and will be doing something, though to little
purpose; and if they be not fixed upon some noble object, they
will, like madmen and fools, be mightily pleased in playing with
straws. The thoughts of God were the first visitors David had in
the morning. God and his heart met together as soon as he was
awake, and kept company all the day after.—Stephen Charnock.
Verse 19. Depart from me therefore, ye bloody men.
The expression, "bloody men", or "men
of blood", includes not only homicides, who shed human
blood, but all other wicked and evil doers, who injure, or seek
to injure others, or who slay their own souls by sin, or the
souls of others by scandal; all of whom may be truly called
homicides; for hatred may be called the mainspring of homicide,
and thus St. John says, "Whoso hateth his brother is a
homicide."—Robert Bellarmine.
Verse 19. Therefore. When we have a controversy
with the wicked we should take heed that private spleen do not
rule us, but that only our interest in God's quarrel with them
doth move us, as the Psalmist doth here.—David Dickson.
Verse 20. Thine enemies take thy name in vain.
In every action three things are considerable,—the end,
the agent, the work. These three duly weighed, we
shall soon see what it is to take God's name in vain.
1. That which hath no end proposed or is done to no end, may
truly be said to be done in vain. As the sowing of seed without
reaping the fruit, the planting a vineyard without a vintage, or
feeding a flock without eating the milk of it. These are labours
in vain. So he that taketh the name of God to no end, neither to
God's glory, nor the private or public good, taketh it in vain. Cui
bono? is a question in all undertakings. If to no good, as
good and better not undertaken at all; it is to no end, it is in
vain. If a man have well fashioned legs, and they be lame, frustra
pulchras habet tibia claudus, the lame man hath them in
vain. The chief end, therefore, in taking this name must be,
a) The glory of God, otherwise we open our mouths in vain, as
it is in Job. God is willing to impart all his blessings to us,
and requires nothing of as again but glory, which if we return
not, he may say, as David did of Nabal, for whom he had done
many good turns, in securing his shepherds and flocks, etc.; and
when he desired nothing but a little meat for the young men he
denied it: All that I have done for this fellow is in vain; in
vain have I kept all he hath. So, God having done so much for
us, and expecting nothing but the glory of his name, if we be
defective herein, he may well say all that he hath done for us
is in vain.
b) Next to God's glory is the good of ourselves and others;
and so to take God's name without reference to this end, if we
neither promote our own good nor the good of others, it is in
vain, ex privatione finis, because it wants a right end;
therefore Saint Paul rejoiced, having by his preaching laboured
for the saving of souls,
c) rejoice, saith he, that I have not run in vain, neither
laboured in vain.
2. In the agent the heart and soul is to be
considered, which in the person acting is the chief mover. If
the soul be Rachah, vain and light, as when we take God's
name without due advice and reverence, though we propound a
right end, yet we take his name in vain. Therefore the wise man
advises "not to be rash with our mouth" (Ec 5:2); and
the Psalmist professes that his heart was fixed when he praised
God (Ps 57:7): the heart ought to be fixed and stablished by a
due consideration of God's greatness when we speak of him. This
is opposed to rashness, inconstancy, and lightness, such as are
in chaff and smoke, which are apt to be carried away with every
blast, and such as are so qualified do take God's name in vain.
3. In the work itself may be a twofold vanity, which
must be avoided. Firstly, Falsehood. Secondly, Injustice.
a) If it be false, then is it also vain, as theirs in
Isa 28:15: "We have made a covenant with death, and with
hell are we at agreement; when the overflowing scourge shall
pass through, it shall not come unto us: for we have made lies
our refuge, and under falsehood have we hid ourselves." And
this is that actio erroris, work of error, of which
Jeremiah speaketh. Vanitas opponitur veritati, vanity is
opposed to verity and truth; therefore a thing is said to be
vain when it is false or erroneous. "They are vanity, the
work of errors", saith the prophet (Jer 10:15); and as
there is truth in natural things, so is there a truth in moral
things, which if it be wanting, our speech is vain.
b) If unjust it is vain too. "If I be wicked, why
then labour I in vain?" saith holy Job 9:29; and, "The
very hope of unjust men perisheth", saith the wise man (Pr
11:7); and, "They walk in a vain shadow, and disquiet
themselves in vain" (Ps 39:6). If justice be wanting in our
actions, or truth in our assertions and promises, they are vain;
and to use God's name in either is to take his name in vain. So
that if either we take the name of God to no end, but make it
common, and take it up as a custom till it come to a habit, not
for any good end; or if our hearts be not stable or fixed, but
light and inconstant when we take it; or if we take it to colour
or bolster up any falsehood or any unjust act, we take it in
vain, and break the commandment.—Lancelot Andrews.
Verse 21. Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate
thee? The simple future in the first clause comprehends
several distinct shades of meaning. Do I not, may I not, must I
not, hate those hating thee? Hate them, not as man hates, but as
God hates.—Joseph Addison Alexander.
Verse 21. Do not I hate them, O LORD, that hate
thee? Can he who thinks good faith the holiest thing in
life, avoid being an enemy to that man who, as quaestor, dared
to despoil, desert, and betray? Can he who wishes to pay due
honours to the immortal gods, by any means avoid being an enemy
to that man who has plundered all their temples?—Cicero.
Verse 21. And am not I grieved with those that rise
up against thee? The expression here—"grieved"—explains
the meaning of the word "hate" in the former
member of the verse. It is not that hatred which is followed by
malignity or ill will; it is that which is accompanied with
grief, pain of heart, pity, sorrow. So the Saviour looked on
men: Mr 3:5:—"And when he had looked round about on them
with anger, being grieved for the hardness of
their hearts." The Hebrew word used here, however, contains
also the idea of being disgusted with; of loathing; of
nauseating. The feeling referred to is anger—conscious
disgust—at such conduct; grief, pain, sorrow, that men should
evince such feelings towards their Maker.—Albert Barnes.
Verse 21. Am not I grieved? etc. Acted upon by
mingled feelings of sorrow for them, and loathing at their evil
practices. Thus our Lord "looked round about on them with anger,
being grieved for the hardness of their hearts": Mr
3:5.—French and Skinner.
Verse 21. It is said that Adam Smith disliked nothing
more than that moral apathy—that obtuseness of moral
perception—which prevents man from not only seeing clearly,
but feeling strongly, the broad distinction between virtue and
vice, and which, under the pretext of liberality, is all
indulgent even to the blackest crimes. At a party at Dalkeith
Palace, where Mr.——, in his mawkish way, was finding
palliations for some villainous transactions, the doctor waited
in patient silence until he was gone, then exclaimed: "Now
I can breathe more freely. I cannot bear that man; he has no
indignation in him."
Verses 21-22. A faithful servant hath the same
interests, the same friends, the same enemies, with his master,
whose cause and honour he is, upon all occasions, in duty bound
to support and maintain. A good man hates, as God himself doth;
he hates not the persons of men, but their sins; not what God
made them, but what they have made themselves. We are neither to
hate the men, on account of the vices they practise; nor to love
the vices, for the sake of the men who practise them. He who
observeth invariably this distinction, fulfils the perfect law
of charity, and hath the love of God and of his neighbour
abiding in him.—George Horne.
Verses 21-22. First, we must hate the company and
society of manifest and obstinate sinners, who will not be
reclaimed. Secondly, all their sins, not communicating with any
man in his sin, we must have no fellowship (as with the workers
so) with the unfruitful works of darkness. Thirdly, all
occasions and inducements unto these sins. Fourthly, all
appearances of wickedness (1Th 5:22), that is, which men in
common judgment account evil; and all this must proceed from a
good ground, even from a good heart hating sin perfectly, that
is all sin, as David, "I hate them with perfect
hatred", and not as some, who can hate some sin, but
cleave to some other: as many can hate pride, but love
covetousness or some other darling sin: but we must attain to
the hatred of all, before we can come to the practice of this
precept (Jude 1:23); besides that, all sins are hateful even in
themselves.—William Perkins, 1558-1602.
Verse 21, 24. The temper of mourning for public sins,
for the sins of others, is the greatest note of sincerity. When
all other signs of righteousness may have their exceptions, this
temper is the utmost term, which we cannot go beyond in our self
examination. The utmost prospect David had of his sincerity,
when he was upon a diligent enquiry after it, was his anger and
grief for the sin of others. When he had reached so far, he was
at a stand, and knew not what more to add "Am not I grieved
with those that rise up against thee? I hate them with perfect
hatred: I count them mine enemies. Search me, O God, and know my
heart: try me, and know my thoughts: and see if there be any
wicked way in me." If there be anything that better can
evidence my sincerity than this, Lord, acquaint me with it;
"know my heart", i.e., make me to know it. He
whose sorrow is only for matter confined within his own breast,
or streams with it in his life, has reason many times to
question the truth of it; but when a man cannot behold sin as
sin in another without sensible regret, it is a sign he hath
savingly felt the bitterness of it in his own soul. It is a high
pitch and growth, and a consent between the Spirit of God and
the soul of a Christian, when he can lament those sins in others
whereby the Spirit is grieved; when he can rejoice with the
Spirit rejoicing, and mourn with the Spirit mourning. This is a
clear testimony that we have not self ends in the service of
God; that we take not up religion to serve a turn; that God is
our aim, and Christ our beloved.—Stephen Charnock.
Verse 22. I hate them with perfect hatred. What
is "with a perfect hatred"? I hated in them
their iniquities, I loved thy creation. This it is to hate with
a perfect hatred, that neither on account of the vices thou hate
the men, nor on account of the men love the vices. For see what
he addeth, "They became my enemies." Not only
as God's enemies, but as his own too doth he now describe them.
How then will he fulfil in them both his own saying, "Have
not I hated those that hated thee, Lord", and the
Lord's command, "Love your enemies"? How will
he fulfil this, save with that perfect hatred, that he hate in
them that they are wicked, and love that they are men? For in
the time even of the Old Testament, when the carnal people was
restrained by visible punishments, how did Moses, the servant of
God, who by understanding belonged to the New Testament, how did
he hate sinners when he prayed for them, or how did he not hate
them when he slew them, save that he "hated them with a
perfect hatred"? For with such perfection did he hate
the iniquity which he punished, as to love the manhood for which
he prayed.—Augustine.
Verse 23. Try me. True faith is precious; it is
like gold, it will endure a trial. Presumption is but a
counterfeit, and cannot abide to be tried: 1Pe 1:7. A true
believer fears no trial. He is willing to be tried by God. He is
willing to have his faith tried by others, he shuns not the
touchstone. He is much in testing himself. He would not take
anything upon trust, especially that which is of such moment. He
is willing to hear the worst as well as the best. That preaching
pleases him best which is most searching and distinguishing: Heb
4:12. He is loath to be deluded with vain hopes. He would not be
flattered into a false conceit of his spiritual state. When
trials are offered, he complies with the apostle's advice, 2Co
13:5.—David Clarkson.
Verse 23. What fearful dilemma have we here? The
Holiest changeth not, when he comes a visitant to a human heart.
He is the same there that he is in the highest heaven. He cannot
look upon sin; and how can a human heart welcome him into its
secret chambers? How can the blazing fire welcome the quenching
water? It is easy to commit to memory the seemly prayer of an
ancient penitent, Search me, O God, and know my heart; try
me, and know my thoughts. The dead letters, worn smooth by
frequent use, may drop freely from callous lips, leaving no
sense of scalding on the conscience; and yet, truth of God
though they are, they may be turned into a lie in the act of
utterance. The prayer is not true, although it is borrowed from
the Bible, if the suppliant invite the All seeing in, and yet
would give a thousand worlds, if he had them, to keep him out
for ever.
Christ has declared the difficulty, and solved it: "I am
the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father,
but by me." When the Son has made the sinner free, he is
free indeed. The dear child, pardoned and reconciled, loves and
longs for the Father's presence. What! is there neither spot nor
wrinkle now upon the man, that he dares to challenge inspection
by the Omniscient, and to offer his heart as Jehovah's dwelling
place? He is not yet so pure; and well he knows it. The groan is
bursting yet from his broken heart: "O wretched man that I
am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" Many
stains defile him yet; but he loathes them now, and longs to be
free. The difference between an unconverted and a converted man
is not that the one has sins, and the other has none; but that
the one takes part with his cherished sins against a dreaded
God, and the other takes part with a reconciled God against his
hated sins. He is out with his former friends, and in with his
former adversary. Conversion is a turning, and it is one turning
only; but it produces simultaneously and necessarily two
distinct effects. Whereas his face was formerly turned away from
God, and toward his own sins; it is now turned away from his own
sins, and toward God. This one turning, with its twofold result,
is in Christ the Mediator, and through the work of the Spirit.
As long as God is my enemy, I am his. I have no more power to
change that condition than the polished surface has to refrain
from reflecting the sunshine that falls upon it. It is God's
love, from the face of Jesus shining into my dark heart, that
makes my heart open to him, and delight to be his dwelling
place. The eyes of the just Avenger I cannot endure to be in
this place of sin; but the eye of the compassionate Physician I
shall gladly admit into this place of disease; for he comes from
heaven to earth that he may heal such sin sick souls as mine.
When a disciple desires to be searched by the living God, he
does not thereby intimate that there are no sins in him to be
discovered: he intimates rather that his foes are so many and so
lively, that nothing can subdue them except the presence and
power of God.—William Arnot (—1875), in "Laws
from Heaven for Life on Earth."
Verses 23-24. There are several things worthy of
notice in the Psalmist's appeal, in the words before us.
First, notice the Psalmist's intrepidity. Here is a
man determined to explore the recesses of his own heart. Did
Bonaparte, did Nelson, did Wellington, ever propose to do this?
Were all the renowned heroes of antiquity present, I would ask
them all if they ever had courage to enter into their own
hearts. David was a man of courage. When he slew a lion in the
way, when he successfully encountered a bear, when he went out
to meet the giant Goliath, he gave undoubted proofs of courage;
but never did he display such signal intrepidity as when he
determined to look into his own heart. If you stood upon some
eminence, and saw all the ravenous and venomous creatures that
ever lived collected before you, it would not require such
courage to combat them as to combat with your own heart. Every
sin is a devil, and each may say, "My name is Legion, for
we are many." Who knows what it is to face himself? And
yet, if we would be saved, this must be done.
Secondly, notice the Psalmist's integrity. He wished
to know all his sins, that he might be delivered from them. As
every individual must know his sins at some period, a wise man
will seek to know them here, because the present is the only
time in which to glorify God, by confessing, by renouncing, by
overcoming them. One of the attributes of sin is to hide man
from himself, to conceal his deformity, to prevent him from
forming a just conception of his true condition. It is a solemn
fact, that there is not an evil principle in the bosom of the
devil himself which does not exist in ours, at the present
moment, unless we are fully renewed by the power of the Holy
Spirit. That these evil principles do not continually develop
themselves, in all their hideous deformity, is entirely owing to
the restraining and forbearing mercy of God.
Thirdly, notice the Psalmist's wisdom. He presents his
prayer to God himself. God is the only Being in the universe
that knows himself—that peruses himself in his own light. In
the same light he sees all other beings; and hence it follows
that, if other beings see themselves truly, it must be in the
light of God. If the sun were an intelligent being, I would ask
him, "How do you see yourself? In your own light?" And
he would reply, "Yes." "And how do you see the
planets that are continually revolving around you?"
"In my own light also, for all the light that is in them is
borrowed from me."
You will observe that the Psalmist begins with his
principles: his desire is to have these tried by a competent
judge, and to have every thing that is evil removed from them.
This is an evidence of his wisdom. The heart and its thoughts
must be made right, before the actions of the life can be set
right. Those who are most eminent for piety are most conversant
with God; and, for this reason, they become most conversant with
themselves. David says, elsewhere, "Who can understand his
errors? Cleanse THOU me from secret faults." And Job
says, "If I wash myself with snow water, and make me never
so clean, yet shalt THOU plunge me in the ditch, and mine own
clothes shall abhor me." When these holy men perused
themselves in God's light, they saw their sins of omission and
commission, and prayed earnestly to be delivered from all.—William
Howels, 1832.
Verses 23-24. The text is a prayer, and it indicates,
as we think, three great facts in regard to the suppliant: the
first, that David thoroughly wished to become acquainted with
himself; the second, that he felt conscious that God could see
through all disguises; and the third, that he desired to
discover, in order that by Divine help he might correct,
whatsoever was wrong in his conduct. Now, the first inference
which we draw from the text, when considered as indicating the
feelings of the petitioner is, that he was thoroughly honest,
that it was really his wish to become acquainted with his own
heart. And is there, you may say, anything rare or remarkable in
this? Indeed we think there is. It would need, we believe, a
very high degree of piety to be able to put up with sincerity
the prayers of our text. For, will you tell me that it does not
often happen, that even whilst men are carrying on a process of
self examination, there is a secret wish to remain ignorant of
certain points, a desire not to be proved wrong when interest
and inclination combine in demanding an opposite verdict? ...In
searching into yourselves, you know where the tender points are,
and those points you will be apt to avoid, so as not to put
yourselves to pain, nor make it evident how much you need the
caustic and the knife. Indeed, we may be sure that we state
nothing but what experience will prove, when we declare it a
high attainment in religion to be ready to know how bad we
are...And this had evidently been reached by the Psalmist, for
he pleads very earnestly with God that he would leave no recess
of his spirit unexplored, that he would bring the heart and all
its thoughts, the life and all its ways, under a most searching
examination, so that no form and no degree of evil might fail to
be detected.—Henry Melvill.
Verses 23-24. Self examination is not the simple thing
which, at first sight, it might appear. No Christian who has
ever really practised it has found it easy. Is there any
exercise of the soul which any one of us has found so
unsatisfactory, so almost impossible, as self examination? The
fact is this, that the heart is so exceedingly complicated and
intricate, and it is so very near the eye which has to
investigate it, and both it and the eye are so restless and so
shifting, that its deep anatomy baffles our research. Just a few
things, here and there, broad and open, and floating upon the
surface, a man discovers; but there are chambers receding within
chambers, in that deepest of all deep things, a sinner's heart,
which no mere human investigation ever will reach, ...it is the
prerogative of God alone to "search" the human
heart. To the child of God—the most intimate with himself in
all the earth—I do not hesitate to say—"There are sins
latent at this moment in you, of which you have no idea; but it
only requires a larger measure of spiritual illumination to
impress and unfold them. You have no idea of the wickedness that
is now in you." But while I say this, let every Christian
count well the cost before he ventures on the bold act of asking
God to "search" him. For be sure of this, if you do
really and earnestly ask God to "search" you,
he will do it. And he will search you most searchingly; and if
you ask him to "try" you, he will try
you,—and the trial will be no light matter!
I am persuaded that we often little calculate what we are
doing—what we are asking God to do—when we implore him to
give us some spiritual attainment, some growth in grace, some
increase in holiness, or peace. To all these things there is a
condition, and that condition lies in a discipline, and that
discipline is generally proportionate to the strength and the
measure of the gift that we ask. I do not know what may have
been the state of the Psalmist at the period when he wrote this
Psalm; but I should think either one of Saul's most cruel
persecutions, or the rebellion of his son Absalom, followed
quick upon the traces of that prayer, Search me, O God, and
know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts, etc. Still,
whatever his attainment, every child of God will desire, at any
sacrifice, to know his own exact state before God; for, as he
desires in all things to have a mind conformed to the mind of
God, so he is especially jealous lest he should, by any means,
be taking a different view, or estimate, of his own soul from
that which God sees it.—Condensed from James Vaughan.
Verses 23-24. Hypocrisy at the fashionable end of the
town is very different from hypocrisy in the city. The modish
hypocrite endeavours to appear more vicious than he really is,
the other kind of hypocrite more virtuous. The former is afraid
of everything that has the show of religion in it, and would be
thought engaged in many criminal gallantries and amours which he
is not guilty of. The latter assumes a face of sanctity, and
covers a multitude of vices under a seeming religious
deportment. But there is another kind of hypocrisy, which
differs from both of these: I mean that hypocrisy by which a man
does not only deceive the world, but very often imposes on
himself; that hypocrisy which conceals his own heart from him,
and makes him believe he is more virtuous than he really is, and
either not attend to his vices, or mistake even his vices for
virtues. It is this fatal hypocrisy and self deceit which is
taken notice of in those words, "Who can understand his
errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults."
These two kinds of hypocrisy, namely, that of deceiving the
world, and that of imposing on ourselves, are touched with
wonderful beauty in the hundred and thirty-ninth Psalm. The
folly of the first kind of hypocrisy is there set forth by
reflections on God's omniscience and omnipresence, which are
celebrated in as noble strains of poetry as any other I ever met
with, either sacred or profane. The other kind of hypocrisy,
whereby a man deceives himself, is intimated in the two last
verses, where the Psalmist addresses himself to the great
Searcher of hearts in that emphatic petition; "Try me, O
God, and seek the ground of my heart: prove me, and examine my
thoughts. Look well if there be any way of wickedness in me, and
lead me in the way everlasting."—Joseph Addison
(1672-1719), in "The Spectator."
Verses 23-24. How beautiful is the humility of David!
He cannot speak of the wicked but in terms of righteous
indignation; he cannot but hate the haters of his God; yet, he
seems immediately to recollect, and to check himself—"Try
me, O Lord, and seek the ground of my heart."
Precisely in the same spirit of inward humility and self
recollection, Abraham, when pleading before God in prayer for
guilty depraved Sodom, fails not to speak of himself, as
being dust and ashes: Ge 18:27.—James Ford, 1871.
Verses 23-24. Why did David pray thus to God, Search
me, O God, and know my heart, having said before, in the
first verse, "Thou hast searched me, and known me"?
Seeing David knew that God had searched him, what needed he to
pray that God would search him? why did he beg God to do that
which he had done already? The answer is at hand. David was a
diligent self searcher, and therefore he was so willing to be
searched, yea, he delighted to be searched by God; and that not
(as was said) because himself had done it already, but also
because he knew God could do it better. He knew by his own
search that he did not live in any way of wickedness against his
knowledge, and yet he knew there might be some way of wickedness
in him that he knew not of. And therefore he doth not only say, "Search
me, O God, and know my thoughts"; but he adds, "See
if there be any wicked way (or any way of pain and grief)
in me"; (the same word signifies both, because wicked
ways lead in the end to pain and grief); "and lead me in
the way everlasting." As if he had said, Lord, I have
searched myself, and can see no wicked way in me; but, Lord, thy
sight is infinitely clearer than mine, and if thou wilt but
search me thou mayest see some wicked way in me which I could
not see, and I would fain see and know the worst of myself, that
I might amend and grow better; therefore, Lord, if there be any
such way in me, cause me to know it also. O take that way out of
me, and take me out of that way; "lead me in the way
everlasting." David had tried himself, and he would
again be tried by God, that he, being better tried, might become
yet better. He found himself gold upon his own trial and yet he
feared there might be some dross in him that he had not found;
and now he would be retried that he might come forth purest
gold. Pure gold fears neither the furnace nor the fire, neither
the test nor the touchstone; nor is weighty gold afraid of the
balance. He that is weight will be weight, how often soever he
is weighed; he that is gold will be gold, how often soever he is
tried, and the oftener he is tried the purer gold he will be;
what he is he will be, and he would be better than he is.—Joseph
Caryl.
Verse 24. See if there be any wicked way in me.
This is a beautiful and impressive prayer for the
commencement of every day. It is, also, a great sentiment to admonish
us at the beginning of each day. There is the way of unbelief
within, to which we are very prone. There is the way of vanity
and pride, to which we often accustom ourselves. There is the
way of selfishness in which we frequently walk. There is
the way of worldliness we often pursue—empty pleasures,
shadowy honours, etc. There is the way of sluggishness.
What apathy in prayer, in the examination and application of
God's Word, we manifest! There is the way of self dependence,
by which we often dishonour God and injure ourselves. There is,
unhappily, the way of disobedience, in which we often
walk. At any rate, our obedience is cold, reluctant,
uncertain—not simple, entire, fervent. How necessary is it,
then, to go to God at once, and earnestly to prefer the
petition, "Lord, see if there be any wicked way in
me." Let nothing that is wrong, that is opposed to thy
character, repugnant to thy word, or injurious and debasing to
ourselves, remain, or be harboured within us.—Condensed
from T. Wallace, in "Homiletic Commentary."
Verse 24. See if there be any wicked way in me.
To what a holiness must David have attained ere he could need,
if we may so speak, Divine scrutiny, in order to his being
informed of errors and defects! Is there one of us who can say
that he has corrected his conduct up to the measure of his
knowledge, and that now he must wait the being better informed
before he can do more towards improving his life? I do not know
how to define a higher point in religious attainment than
supposing a man warranted in offering up the prayer of our text.
I call upon you to be cautious in using this prayer. It is easy
to mock God, by asking him to search you whilst you have made
but little effort to search yourselves, and perhaps still less
to act upon the result of the scrutiny.—Henry Melvill.
Verse 24. See if there be any wicked way in me,
etc.—
Think and be careful what thou art within,
For there is sin in the desire of sin:
Think and be thankful, in a different case,
For there is grace in the desire of grace.
—John Byron, 1691-1763.
Verse 24. The way everlasting. Way of eternity,
or of antiquity, the old way, as Jer 6:16; meaning the
way of faith and godliness, which God taught from the beginning,
and which continueth for ever; contrary to "the way of the
wicked", which perisheth: Ps 1:6.—Henry Ainsworth.
HINTS TO THE VILLAGE PREACHER
Verses 1, 23. A matter of fact made a matter of
prayer.
Verse 1.
1. A cheering thought for sinners. If God knew them not
perfectly, how could he have prepared a perfect salvation for
them?
2. A comfortable truth for saints. "Your heavenly Father
knoweth that ye have need of all these things."—G.R.
Verses 1-5. In these verses we have God's Omniscience,
1. Described.
a) As observing minute and comparatively unimportant actions:
"My downsitting and uprising."
b) As taking note of our thoughts and the motives behind
them: "Understandest my thought."
c) As investigating all our ways: "Thou compassest",
etc.; better rendered, "Thou triest my walking and lying
down", i.e., my activities and restings.
d) Accurately estimating every word at the instant of its
utterance: "For there is not a word", etc.
e) As being "behind" men, remembering their past,
and "before" men, acquainted with their future:
"Thou hast beset me", etc.
f) As every instant holding men under watchful scrutiny:
"And laid", etc.
2. Personally realized and pondered: "Thou hast searched
me." Me and my run through the whole set of
statements. Thus felt and used, the fact of God's omniscience,
a) Begets reverence.
b) Inspires confidence.
c) Produces carefulness of conduct.—J.F.
Verse 2-4. The knowledge of God extends,
1. To our movements, our "down sitting and
uprising"—when we sit down to read, write, or converse,
and when we rise up to active service.
2. To our thoughts: "Thou understandest my thoughts afar
off." What they have been, what they now are, what they
will be, what under all circumstances they would have been. He
who made minds knows what their thoughts will be at all times,
or he could not predict future events, or govern the world. He
can know our thoughts without being the Author of them.
3. To our actions: Ps 139:3. Every step we take by day, and
all we purpose to do in wakeful hours of the night: all our
private, social, and public ways, are compassed or sifted by
him, to distinguish the good from the bad, as wheat from the
chaff.
4. To our words: Ps 139:4. It has been said that the words of
all men and from all time are registered in the atmosphere, and
may be faithfully recalled. Whether it be so or not, they are
phonographed in the mind of God.—G.R.
Verse 2. (first clause). The importance of the
commonest acts of life.
Verse 2. (second clause). The serious nature of
thoughts. Known to God; seen through, their drift perceived; and
attention given to them while as yet in the distance.
Verse 3. The encircling Presence, in our activities,
meditations, secrecies, and movements.
Verse 4.
1. Words on the tongue first in it, and in that stage
known to God.
2. Words on the tongue very numerous, yet all known.
3. Word on the tongue have wide meaning, yet known
"altogether."
Lesson: Take heed of your words not yet spoken.
Verse 5. A soul captured. Stopped, overtaken,
arrested. What has it done? What shall it do?
Verse 6.
1. God imperfectly known to man.
2. Man perfectly known to God. It has been said that wise men
never wonder; to us it appears they are always wondering.—G.R.
Verse 6. Theme: the facts of our religion, too
wonderful to understand, are just those in which we have most
reason to rejoice.
1. Prove it.
a) The incomprehensible attributes of God give unspeakable
value to his promises.
b) The Incarnation is at once the most complete and most
endearing manifestation of God we possess, yet it is the most
inexplicable.
c) Redemption by the death of Christ is the highest guarantee
of salvation we can conceive; but who can explain it?
d) Inspiration makes the Bible the word of God, though none
can give an account of its mode of operation in the minds of
those "moved by the Holy Ghost."
e) The resurrection of the body, and its glorification,
satisfy the deepest yearning of our soul (Ro 8:23 2Co 5:2-4);
but none can conceive the how.
2. Apply its lessons.
a) Let us not stumble at doctrines simply because they are
mysterious.
b) Let us be thankful God has not kept back the great
mysteries of our religion simply because there would be some
offended at them.
c) Let us readily receive all the joy which the mysteries
bring, and calmly wait the light of heaven to make them better
understood.—J.F.
Verses 7-10.
1. God is wherever I am. I fill but a small part of space; he
fills all space.
2. He is wherever I shall be. He does not move with me, but I
move in him. "In him we live, and move", etc.
3. God is wherever I could be. "If I ascend to
heaven", etc. "If I descend to Sheol", etc. If I
travel with the sunbeams to the most distant part of the earth,
or heavens, or the sea, I shall be in thy hand. No mention is
here made of annihilation, as though that were possible; which
would be the only escape from the Divine Presence; for he is not
the God of the dead, of the annihilated, in the Sadducean
meaning of the word, but of the living. Man is always somewhere,
and God is always everywhere.—G.R.
Verse 8. The glory of heaven and the terror of hell: "Thou."
Verses 9-10.
1. The greatest security and encouragement to a sinner
supposed.
a) The place—the remotest part of the sea; by which you are
to understand the most obscure nook in the creation.
b) His swift and speedy flight after the commission of sin,
to this supposed refuge and sanctuary: "If I take the wings
of the morning."
2. This supposed security and encouragement is utterly
destroyed (Ps 139:10).
—See Flavel's "Seaman's Preservative in Foreign
Countries."
Verses 11-12. Darkness and light are both alike to
God.
1. Naturally. "I form the light, and I create the
darkness."
2. Providentially. Providential dispensations that are dark
to us are light to him. We change with respect to him, not he to
us.
3. Spiritually. "Let him that walketh in darkness",
etc. "Yea, though I walk", etc. He went before them in
a pillar of cloud to guide them by day, and a pillar of fire to
guide them by night. It was the same God in the day cloud and in
the night light.—G.R.
Verse 14. I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
This is true of man in his fourfold state.
1. In his primitive integrity.
2. In his deplorable depravity.
3. In his regeneration.
4. In his fixed state in hell or heaven.
—W.W.
Verses 17-18. The Psalm dilates upon the omniscience
of God. In no mournful manner, but the reverse.
1. God's thoughts of us.
a) How certain.
b) How numerous.
c) How condescending.
d) How tender.
e) How wise.
f) How practical.
g) How constant.
2. Our thoughts upon his thoughts.
a) How late and yet how due to the subject.
b) How delightful.
d) How consoling.
e) How strengthening to faith.
f) How arousing to love.
3. Our thoughts upon God himself.
a) They place us near God.
b) They keep us near God.
c) They restore us to him. We are with God when we awake from
sleep, from lethargy, from death.
Verses 17-18.
1. The saint precious to God. He thinks of him tenderly; in
countless ways; perpetually.
2. God precious to the saints. Noting God's loving
kindnesses, numbering them, newly awakening to them.
3. The mingling of these loves: "I am still with
thee."—W.B.H.
Verse 18. When I awake I am still with thee.
1. Awaking is sometimes, yea, most commonly, taken in the natural
signification, for the recovery from bodily sleep.
2. Morally, for recovery from sin.
3. Mystically; "when I shall awake", that
is, from the sleep of death.—T. Horton.
Verse 18. A Christian on Earth still in Heaven
(an Appendix to "A Christian on the Mount; or, A Treatise
concerning Meditation"), by Thomas Watson, 1660.
Verse 18. I am still with thee.
1. By way of meditation.
2. In respect to communion.
3. In regard of action, and the businesses which are done by
us.—T. Horton.
Verse 19.
1. The doctrine of punishment the necessary outcome of
omniscience.
2. Inevitable judgment an argument for separation from
sinners.—W.B.H.
Verse 20. Two scandalous offences against God.
1. To speak slanderously of him.
2. To speak irreverently of him. These are committed only by
his enemies.
Verses 21-22.
1. Such hatred one need not be ashamed of.
2. Such hatred one should be able to define:
"grieved."
3. Such hatred one must labour to keep right. "Perfect
hatred" is a form of hate consistent with all the virtues.
Verses 23-24. The language,
1. Of self examination.
a) As in the sight of God.
b) With a desire for the help of God: Ps 139:23. Look me
through, and through, and tell me what thou thinkest of me.
2. Of self renunciation: "See if", etc. (Ps
139:24); any sin unpardoned, any evil disposition unsubdued, any
evil habit unrestrained, that I may renounce it.
3. Of self dedication: "Lead me", etc.: a
submission entirely to divine guidance in the future.—G.R.
Verse 24.
1. The evil way. Naturally in us; may be of different kinds;
must be removed; removal needs Divine help.
2. The everlasting way. There is but one, we need leading in
it. It is the good old way, it does not come to an end, it leads
to blessedness without end.
Verse 24. (last clause).—See "Spurgeon's
Sermons," No. 903: "The Way Everlasting."