Meditations on the Twenty-Third Psalm

Ver. 5. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” The bereaved and benighted pilgrim now enters a new path of experience. He is emerging from the thick darkness of the valley. Light from on high is breaking through the clouds, and scattering its beams over his path. He only begins to realize what has happened, and to find out where he is. The departure of his fellow-pilgrim is no dream of the night, but a stern reality under the hand of the Lord. It meets him everywhere and in every form. He has never been this lonely way before, but the footsteps of many are found here, and of Him who knows from experience every step of the way, and how to succor those who are passing through these gloomy regions. Heb. 2:17, 18.
Happy thought! The dark and dreary valley, with its days and nights of heaviness, introduce, in due time, the exhausted pilgrim to the rich provisions of the Shepherd’s care, and to a more intimate acquaintance with Himself. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” He is still in the wilderness, and in the presence of his enemies, but divine refreshment is provided to strengthen him on his way, and in the presence of the Lord all enemies are powerless. Thus, the good Shepherd, when the first heat of the trial is over, causeth His weary ones to sit down under His protection, and partake of the rich repast, which He has dressed with His own hands. Blessed Lord, what thoughtful love and tender care are thine! In the day of nature’s extreme weakness, when there is not so much strength left as to see a friend, far less to encounter a foe, thou thinkest of us, and carest for us. Others may upbraid, but thou upbraidest not. Secured by thy presence, we sit in safety at thy table, feed on the bounties of thy love, and are hidden under the shadow of thy wing, from the assaults of our enemies.
Sayest thou, my soul, canst thou say, as many, that such a repast — such an expression of the Lord’s own deep sympathies, would amply repay all thy sore travel through the valley? I seek not so to balance things — I cannot — I dare not propose to my Lord another such journey through the desert for anything. Still, if He leads the way, there must be unspeakable blessedness to the soul in following Him. But there is no reason why the Christian should not be perfectly happy with the Lord, though in the depths of sorrow.
“The Lord is my shepherd,” he may well say at all times, “I shall not want.”
“Wherever He may guide me,
No want shall turn me back;
My shepherd is beside me,
And nothing can I lack.
His wisdom never faileth,
His sight is never dim,
He knows the way He taketh,
And I will walk with Him.”
But here it may be profitable to observe, in meditating on this new line of experience, that the good Shepherd is not now leading the soul beside the still waters, and the green pastures. No, He has done so already. He is now leading the soul into further and higher truth, and into a path of richer experience. As the babes, in the second chapter of John’s first epistle, know Abba, Father, and the forgiveness of sins, so the flock of the good Shepherd in our beautiful psalm, start on their journey in the knowledge of Himself, and of what He is to them, and of His grace and love in their salvation. But as we also read in the same chapter of “young men and fathers,” so here, some are led on to a more individual character of blessing. “Thou preparest a table before me........thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”
For example; the woman who came to Jesus, in the house of Simon, under deep distress of soul about her sins, He introduced at once, we may say, to the green pastures and still waters. He met her heart’s distress about sin with a plenary pardon — salvation and peace. He thus led her, without raising a single question as to the past or present, into the grace and love of His heart, and into the value and power of His cross. He made her, as it were, to lie down, to find perfect rest, in the green pastures, and beside the peaceful waters of His boundless mercy. Such is the Lord’s way in grace with every soul that comes to Him; and such is the inalienable heritage of every sheep and lamb of His flock. As to these things, there is no difference between the babes, young men, and fathers. One may know them better than another, and enjoy them more than another, but they are the same to all. And observe, further, He never needs to repeat these precious sayings. The word has gone forth from His mouth, and “the word of the Lord endureth forever.” When He has said, “Thy sins are forgiven, thy faith hath saved thee, go in peace,” these words endure forever. Just as the blood on the door posts never was repeated.
“Blest Lamb of God, thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till every ransomed saint of God
Be saved to sin no more.”
Let us now turn, in further illustration of the truth before us, to the bereaved sisters of Bethany. They, too, were in great distress, but of a very different kind to hers who bathed His feet with tears. It was no question with Martha and Mary as to forgiveness and justification, but of needed consolation and strength, in the hour of their deep sorrow, and of nature’s utter weakness. And, oh, what new treasures He opens out to them! The deep treasures of His love, tenderness, sympathies, power, and consolations. Oh, what sights they saw, what words they heard, and what blessings they received! “But for the death of their brother,” as one has sweetly said, “they might never have seen the Redeemer’s tears.” But this was not all, though these tears must be the wonder of heaven, and the deepest consolation of His bereaved ones in all ages. They are embalmed in the heart of sorrow. But the mourning sisters were also privileged to see, not only the most touching expression of His manhood, hut the crowning display of His Godhead. “Jesus wept” — “Lazarus, come forth.” And it was to them, in their deep sorrow, that He revealed the blessed truth — “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”
What glory to God, may we not say — what a telling forth of what our Jesus is — what comfort for the mourner — what blessing to Mary, flowed from the death of Lazarus. In a high and blessed sense, the soul has only to do with the Lord Himself at such a time. Experience becomes more and more a personal thing. Now, it is not so much the language of the soul — what great things the Lord has done for me, as, what the Lord Himself is to me. Communion is not only a real but a personal thing “Thou preparest a table before me.” “Thou” — “me.” And sweeter far than tongue can speak, or pen can write, is the refreshment which the Lord provides at such times. It comes with the unmistakable impression of His own hand.
He who knows the end from the beginning, and sees what is coming, alone can make prevision. Nothing takes Him by surprise. The cloud that has darkened the heavens, and desolated the earth, He saw, before it was the size of a man’s hand. It may have come upon the pilgrim, suddenly, like a thunder-clap, so that, for the moment, he knew not where to look — what to say — or, what to do. He was overwhelmed — his soul was sinking-in deep waters. But there was one eye that saw what was coming, and prepared for it. And, oh, what a preparation is His! With wonder and amazement, the soul can only worship, in the presence of a love that has thought of everything, and provided for everything, even to the least thing. Adorable Lord, what grace is thine! what care for thy people! But, why wonder? No event, no circumstance in the event, could be too minute for Him who counts the hairs of our head, and suffers not a sparrow to fall to the ground without His providence.
ALONE UPON THE TROUBLED WATERS!
Take an illustration from Scripture of His present watchful care over His people; an illustration too, which is the result of His rejection on earth. (See Matt. 14:22, 36; also, Mark 6; John 6) “And straightway Jesus constrained his disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him unto the other side, while he sent the multitude away.” It turned out to be a dark and stormy night, and, to outward appearance, the disciples were left alone in the midst, of the raging billows. “The ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves; for the wind was contrary.” But there was no Jesus in the ship with them — no blessed master to compose their troubled minds, or encourage their drooping hearts. “And it was now dark, and Jesus was not there.” Had the night been calm and clear, they would not have felt His absence in the same way. But now everything seemed against them. The troubled sea — the stormy wind — the darkness of the night — the difficulty in rowing, and the Lord’s absence, made their position one of perplexity and distress. No doubt, they were ready to conclude, that not only had their Master forsaken them, but that the elements had conspired against them.
But where is the Lord all this time, and whither has He gone? Has He ceased to care for His disciples? or, is He not aware of their distress? He has gone to the place of power, and that power He is using on their behalf. From the mountain, whither He had gone to pray, His all-seeing eye is following them unweariedly. Not a single wave has touched the vessel without His measuring hand; and not a breath of wind, that He has not sent forth from its chambers. He is at the helm, we may say, both of the winds, the waves, and the vessel. His hand lays hold on everything — He rules over all. Never was He more near to His people, or they more dear to Him, than when they were passing through the storm, apparently alone.
The whole scene is a living picture of the richest instruction, and sweetest comfort, and of what has actually taken place. Personally, of course, the Lord and His disciples were apart, but in spirit and in power He was present with them. He permitted the storm to arise in His absence for the trial of their faith. And who does not find it hard now, to pull against a strong head wind? But so it is with the people of God in the present period. The world has crucified their Lord, and they have to cross the troubled sea of this life alone. The Church is as a widow and desolate, so that she is to keep up the remembrance of her Lord’s death, and her own identification with Him in it, according to His will, until He come. Her place of lonely widowhood is never to be forgotten. To deny it, would be to deny that her Lord was slain.
But let us return for a moment to the exquisite scene before us. Towards the close of that interesting day, the ancient prediction was fulfilled. “I will abundantly bless her provision; I will satisfy her poor with bread.” Thousands of the people were miraculously fed, and, as we read in John, they wanted to take Him by force and make Him a king. But Jesus perceiving this, “departed again into a mountain Himself alone.” The hour was not yet come for the crown of David to flourish on the head of his son and Lord. The people were in unbelief, and He would not be made a king to gratify their worldly desires. He departs from them, and goes up to a mountain to pray alone. He refuses to be king by the will of man, but He takes the place of priest before God. Blessed fruit of His rejection.
But here, carefully observe, and mark well, Ο my soul, the hand of the Master in drawing this beautiful picture. Before He ascends up on high, He dismisses the multitude, or the unbelieving nation. Then He gathers His disciples, or the believing remnant, into a ship, and launches them on a tempestuous sea alone. And now, He goes Himself to a mountain to make intercession for them. “And when he had sent the multitude away, he went up into a mountain apart to pray; and when the evening was come, he was there alone.” But during the long, dark night of His absence, His eye of love, which neither slumbers nor sleeps, followed His loved, though tossed and tried ones, all the way through the deep. Ο blessed Lord, what a night that was to thee! Its silent watches must have pictured to thy far-seeing eye these last eighteen hundred years and more. During the long dark night of man’s day, thy beloved ones have had to meet an opposing current in this evil age, which is indeed hard to strive against. But the morning watch brings relief. This dark and dreary night, with its toiling and rowing, will soon be past. “Surely I come quickly,” is the word of Jesus; and the Spirit speaks as if we could count on nothing more than “the twinkling of an eye,” between us and the coming of the Lord.
“And in the fourth watch of the night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea. And when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, ‘It is a spirit; and they cried out for fear.’ But straightway Jesus spake unto them, ‘Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.’ And Peter answered him, and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water. And he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water to go to Jesus. But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me. And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, Ο thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt? And when they were come into the ship, the wind ceased. Then they that were in the ship came and worshipped him, saying, Of a truth thou art the Son of God.” Peter may represent the Church. He leaves the position of the Jewish remnant, and goes out in faith to meet the Lord, without the support of nature. But he fails, as the Church has done; he fails, as she has done, through not keeping Christ and His word before him. He looked at the waves — the circumstances, in place of looking to the Lord. So long as Christ filled his eye, he imitated Him, and walked on the sea as He did. But the moment his eye is off Christ, and on the billows, he begins to sink. Faith can walk on rough waters as well as smooth, if the eye is kept on the Lord. The Lord had said “Come,” to Peter, and that was enough. He who created the elements, could make the sea a pavement for His servant. When Christ and His word are kept before the soul, we can walk on the rough sea of life as well as on the smooth waters.
But, oh, gracious Lord, thou art as ready to answer the cry of distress, as the voice of faith! But the honor that belongs to the walk of faith is lost. “And immediately Jesus stretched forth His hand, and caught him, and said unto him, Ο thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt? And when they were come into the ship the wind ceased. The Lord, in company with Peter, rejoins the disciples in the ship, and immediately the troubled waters are at rest. When the Lord and His heavenly Bride return to Israel, all their troubles and persecutions will be at an end. He will be owned and worshipped as their own Messiah, the son of David, the Son of God. “Then they that were in the ship came and worshipped him, saying of a truth thou art the Son of God.” But the blessing flows out unto all the earth.
“And when they were gone over, they came into the land of Gennesaret. And when the men of that place had knowledge of him, they went out into that country round about, and brought unto him all that were diseased, and besought him that they might only touch the hem of his garment; and as many as touched him were made perfectly whole.” Here we have a bright millennial scene. The Lord is received joyfully. The place of His former humiliation and rejection is now the scene of His power and glory. He has come down from the place of His intercession. His ancient people who were in deep waters, He immediately brings to a peaceful shore. In the world, which is filled with the works of Satan, He exercises His power in healing and blessing. He relieves a distressed and groaning creation. The trail of the serpent disappears, and joy and gladness, health and beauty, fill all lands. Hasten, Ο Lord, hasten in thy time, that promised, coming, happy day.
But, meanwhile, may those who are now toiling through the deep waters, in patience possess their souls. Surely, we know thee better than did thy disciples of old. Thy love has been fully manifested, and we know thine unfailing intercession for us at God’s right hand in heaven. The night may be dark, the billows high, the wind boisterous; circumstances may be cheerless, joyless, and gloomy, but “the night is far spent, the day is at hand.” “The coming of the Lord draweth nigh.” “Yet a little while, and he that shall come will come, and will not tarry.” The tempest-tossed vessel will soon reach the shores of eternal rest, and be welcomed by many who have been safely landed there before. Till then, Ο most gracious Lord, may our hands be kept steady at the oars, and our hearts confiding in thee, while we sleeplessly watch for the first radiance of the Morning Star.
Meditations on the Twenty-Third Psalm
“Thou anointest my head with oil” How sweetly conscious the pilgrim is of the Lord’s nearness to him! This is the strength of his heart. The honor conferred is great, and may be duly esteemed; but that which the heart loves most, is the presence of the Lord. Comparatively, it matters little who may be at a distance, or even opposed to us, when the Lord is near. In His presence we enjoy a rest from all that surrounds us, which we can find nowhere else, and which, we doubt not, partakes of the perfect rest above.
Is this, Ο my soul, thine own experience? Knowest thou the sweet peace and the quiet confidence which conscious nearness to the Lord gives? Surely, those who have experienced the power of that presence in days of weakness and trial, can never forget it. There is a way of learning such things, which neither time nor change of circumstances can efface, and which will be remembered with profit throughout eternity. But before the Lord teaches thus, the soul must be stripped of all self-dependence, and of everything that has its roots in nature. A destitution must be felt, that looks to the Lord alone, and welcomes the supplies as coming directly from Himself. Then, the arms that enfold the fainting one — the power that raises the stricken one, and the fullness that fills the emptied one, must ever be remembered, and remembered with adoring gratitude.
But may not a soul enjoy great nearness to the Lord, without having passed through trial, or known much of the difficulties of this present life? These, most surely, form no ground, but are often the occasion, of great conscious nearness. It is the happy privilege of all who through grace believe, to enjoy spiritual nearness to God in Christ, through the power of the Holy Ghost. This is their birthright. “Truly, our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.” We are not only pardoned, but reconciled. Though, strange to say, I have talked with many who knew their pardon, but were strangers to reconciliation. Such, of course, knew nothing of that personal nearness to Christ of which we are speaking. The sweet, happy, home feeling of reconciliation is unknown.
But why? it may be asked. Because the truth is not fully apprehended. And what is the truth? it may be further asked. As we are merely referring to the fact at present, we cannot go into the subject; but the reception of the prodigal son may be taken as an answer to the question, and as the divine illustration of the doctrine of reconciliation. The first thing the prodigal received from his Father was the kiss of peace — of reconciliation. He is the living picture of a soul quickened, pardoned, sealed, accepted, reconciled, worshipping. Was there one in all the Father’s house that felt more at home than the prodigal? Not one. He was there in the full credit of Christ — radiant in His beauty — exalted in His dignity, and adorned with the jewels of heaven. The Father in His love, we may say, knows not how much to make of him. But how few, alas, drink deeply at the fountain of the Father’s love! — a love that is unchangeable, and that is infinitely above robes, and rings, and fatted calves! Ο Father — Father of the Lord Jesus, give us to know more of the love that so receives, and who welcomes every returning prodigal! Ο give us to taste of this perfect peace— this perfect reconciliation — this happy, joyous worship!
But may every truly converted sinner now, read in the prodigal’s reception the history of his own? He ought to. The Father is not changed. And he may also connect with the love that receives, the love that seeks. So that he ought to rejoice in the love of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. And with the additional light of the epistles, we see even something more than in that ever fresh, ever precious fifteenth of Luke. The new ground, namely, the death and resurrection of Christ, and His exaltation to the right hand of God, is unfolded and expounded in the epistles. This is the entirely new ground on which the believer is placed in reconciliation with God. Hence the doctrine so fully taught in the epistles of our oneness with Christ, as the risen and exalted Man in glory. There we read that the Christian is in Christ Jesus — joined unto the Lord — seated together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus. Rom. 8:1; 1 Cor. 6:17; Eph. 2:6.
But we return to the question of our experimental nearness to the Lord. True enough, it is our blessed privilege to know our place of nearness to Him, spiritually, and His presence with us, at all times, and under all circumstances; but who can speak of it? Rather let us meditate on the experience of the man of faith, as recorded by the Holy Spirit. Much of the experience of this psalm will apply to Christ Himself, in His path down here, and to those, in all ages, who follow in His footsteps. It is the path of a godly man, under the eye and the unfailing care of Jehovah. There is suffering and humiliation, honor and glory in the way. The former for a time, the latter forever.
But however much the Lord may be known and enjoyed in the simplicity of faith, it was by the way of Marah’s bitter waters, and the dark shadows of death, that our pilgrim reached the King’s table, and became an honored guest in His banqueting house. It is better that the sufferings should be first and the glory after, than that the glory should be first and the sufferings after.
While the pilgrim is still seated at the table which the Lord prepared for his refreshment, new honors and richer blessings await him. The host, we may say, according to Eastern custom, now rises from his seat, and pours the fragrant oil on the head of his guest. In oriental nations, this is esteemed a mark of the very highest honor, and is usually reserved for distinguished guests and strangers. The oil is mingled with the most costly perfumes, so that the banqueting hall is filled with its sweet odors. It is not unusual, on certain occasions, for the servant to anoint the head of each guest, but when the master himself performs this service on some favored one, what must his honor be! Yet faith can say of Him who is King of kings and Lord of lords, “Thou anointest my head with oil.” No servant is employed on this occasion, the Royal Host takes the place of servant Himself.
It is quite evident from what our Lord says in the house of Simon, that this custom prevailed amongst the Jews: “My head with oil thou didst not anoint; but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment.” What self-righteousness so ungraciously withheld, the poor penitent supplied. The Pharisee did not think He was worthy of a little water for His feet, far less the costly oil for His head. But who ever heard of self-righteousness having either oil for the head, water for the feet, or the kiss of gracious welcome for the lowly Son of man? But the humble penitent finds them all. The fountains of her heart are broken up to bathe His feet with tears. Like a man, who once said to the writer, after the word had reached his heart, and who could scarcely speak from emotion, “I seem to have got a well in my heart, and it is constantly springing up to my head.” This woman, too, found a well — a springing well in her heart; and also the means of finding the costly ointment, and every other tribute of respect for the Savior of her soul. Oh! what a scene! what a lesson! A poor, fallen, degraded sinner — an outward breaker of the law, enters the abode of man’s righteousness, bows at the feet of the Son of David, and carries off the blessing in the very face, and from the very center of the Pharisee’s vain glory. She is enriched with, the noblest prize that soul ever found, while the chiefs of the people, who refused to bow to Jesus, are left poor and miserable, and blind and naked. “For every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.”
The practice of anointing is frequently spoken of in Scripture. The holy oil was largely used in the Jewish worship. Their prophets, priests, and kings, were consecrated, and inaugurated with it. It formed an important ingredient in the offerings; even the vessels of the tabernacle were to be anointed with the “holy anointing oil.” As compounded according to divine directions (Exod. 30), it was, no doubt, an expressive type of the Holy Spirit in His many and various operations; and its noiseless flow through the golden pipes, (Zech. 4) may represent His silent, unseen working in the soul.
But the anointing of the head, as in our beautiful psalm, is more the emblem of a personal blessing, than of a ceremonial observance. The man of God, in the beginning of the psalm, under the similitude of the sheep and its shepherd, speaks of his perfect confidence in Jehovah; and that confidence never fails him; it characterizes the psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” He is led forth by his shepherd’s hand to the green pastures, and beside the still waters. But a day comes when a dark cloud passes over the whole scene. He goes through sorrow and suffering, though the hand that strikes be unseen. Death crosses his path and leaves its dark shadows behind. The once joyous, peaceful, happy scene is turned into a vale of tears. Still, the Lord is there, and His presence is enjoyed. “Thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” And now the figure is changed — changed from the emblem of a sheep confiding in a shepherd, to an invited guest at the King’s entertainment.
“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.” The “table,” may be the symbol of the soul’s communion with the Lord Himself. It may be employed here to set forth a richer, fuller character of communion with Him. As He says elsewhere, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.” Rev. 3:20.
The anointing of the head, seems to partake more of an open, public expression of the Lord’s favor; and in this distinguishing blessing, the anointed one is brought into blessed fellowship with the Master Himself. He was anointed, not with the oil of the sanctuary, but with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven. “And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water; and, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him.” (Matt. 3:16.) We elsewhere read, that “God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Ghost and with power.” And again, “Thou hast loved righteousness, and hated iniquity; therefore God, even thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.” Acts 10:33; Heb. 1:9.
Most marvelous indeed is the blessing to our souls that shines under the emblem of anointing. Here we are said to be the “fellows” of Christ; and as man, we know, He is addressed as the “fellow” of the Jehovah of hosts! (Zech. 13) What a link! thou mayest well exclaim, Ο my soul, what a link between us and the living God! It is also said of all Christians, “ But ye have an unction from the Holy One.” And that, “He which stablisheth us with you in Christ, and hath anointed us, is God.” (1 John 2:20 Cor. 1:21.) True, most true, He is anointed with the oil of gladness above his “fellows;” still, we are His “fellows.” The Spirit of truth affirms it, we believe it, and the day will declare it.
As the anointed kings and priests of our God and Father, we shall, ere long, be associated with our blessed Lord, in His dominion and glory. We shall then be the public companions of Him, under whose hand will be the whole government of the heavens and the earth. “And I saw thrones, and they sat upon them, and judgment was given unto them.....they shall be priests of God and of Christ, and shall reign with him a thousand years.” (Rev. 20) But let it not be thought that our reigning, or companionship with Christ, terminates with the thousand years. True, that will be the end of the time-period of the reign; and then Christ will deliver up the kingdom to God, even the Father, when he shall have put down all rule and all authority and power. For he must reign till he hath put all enemies under his feet.” (1 Cor. 15) But our reigning with Christ will just be, as it were, commencing then; for we “shall reign in life by one, Jesus Christ.” (Rom. 5:17.) Our eternal life, and our reign with Christ, are co-equal.
Blessed Lord! what love! what a prospect! what can we say? Ο give us to walk worthy of the holy oil of our God that is upon us! Meantime, we can only worship and adore in the presence of such grace. In truth we may say, “My cup runneth over.”
“HAIL, to the Lord’s Anointed! Great David’s greater Son:
When to the time appointed, the rolling years have run,
He comes to break oppression, to set the captive free;
To take away transgression, and rule in equity.
*****
For Him shall praise unceasing, and daily vows ascend;
His kingdom still increasing — a kingdom without end.
The tide of time shall never His covenant remove;
His name shall stand forever. His great best name of love.”

Meditations on the Twenty-Third Psalm
“My cup runneth over.” What a happy state to be in! The blessing of the King’s guest is now unmeasured. He who was, a little while ago, amidst the deepest shades of the valley, is now in the scene of highest joy, and receiving the most public assurance of the Lord’s favor. Nevertheless, we must not forget, that the valley may be as strong an expression of the Lord’s favor as the banquet, though the results in experience be so widely different. Now, the cup of joy is flowing over. But this joy is only in the Lord. The whole scene below may be as joyless as ever. These two things are perfectly’ consistent in christian experience, and well known to many. Earth’s scenes may henceforth be joyless, though full of mercies, while the heart is in the boundless joys of the Lord. Everything around may be tinged with the dark shade of disappointment, bereavement; or with the most crushing, abiding trial; while all above is calm, cloudless, unmingled joy — standing before God in the full credit of Christ, and in the sweet confidence that we are the children whom He loves, the heart overflows with joyous praise.
This is the genuine fruit, Ο my soul, of being at the King’s entertainment. But how could it be otherwise? Seated at the King’s table — partaking of the repast which His own hand had dressed — the head anointed with the odoriferous oil — the cup filled to overflowing with the King’s choicest wine; what else, tell me, could a soul say in such circumstances, than “my cup runneth over?” — my joy — my blessing — my happiness, is full— yea, more than full; I can only love and praise.
From this expressive image thou mayest learn, Ο my soul, what worship is. And rest assured, that nothing is of more importance to the Christian, and nothing more honoring to God, He is robbed of His glory when His children fail to worship Him. The true principle and character of worship are seen here. How full and instructive is this remarkable Psalm! And in how many points it applies to the blessed Lord Himself. Oh! how full was His cup of joy, and of sorrow too, when down here as the dependent Man, confiding in Jehovah’s care! But what wonderful experience for a sinner saved by grace to be able to say, when in deep, deep waters, “Μy cup of joy is full, my cup of sorrow too.” Such was always the portion of the Lord’s cup, as the Man of sorrows. But He knew both perfectly. What a blessing to have fellowship with Him! What a privilege, however painful for the present, to taste His cup of sorrow, as well as His cup of joy — to know something of His earthly sorrows, and of His heavenly joys; of the cup of wrath, which He drank for us, we can never taste. “It is finished.” It is drained to its dregs. But of His cup of joy we shall drink forever; Hallelujah! “Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord,” will be His welcome greeting by and by. Not merely, observe, my soul, into the joy of heaven, or of angels, but into the joy of thy Lord.
“We adore thee evermore; Hallelujah!
Savior, for thy boundless grace; Hallelujah!
For the cross, whereby to us, Hallelujah!
Sure is made eternal bliss; Hallelujah!
From sin’s cruel slavery; Hallelujah!
For thine all-atoning blood, Hallelujah!
Which hath brought us nigh to God; Hallelujah!”
What, then, thou mayest still inquire, Ο my soul, is the spiritual meaning of this emblem? We believe it represents a soul in the true spirit and act of worshipping. We know no other four words in Scripture, which so emphatically express
Meditations on the Twenty-Third Psalm
It may be well, before closing our meditations on the cup of joy, to dwell a little on its contrast, the cup of sorrow. In the saint’s experience, the latter often goes before and accompanies the former. The one being natural, and the other spiritual, both may be full at the same time. It is only while in the body and on the earth that we can meet with the cup of sorrow. It will be unmingled joy in heaven. There, we shall be met at the threshold with “Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.” Then we shall drink, and drink forever, of the Master’s own cup. We shall drink from the same fountain as Christ Himself. Having the same life, we shall have the same relish for the joys, the employment, and the blessedness of heaven; though not, of course, to the same degree.
Without this divine nature there can be no relish for divine things. To mere human nature the light of heaven would be more intolerable than the darkness of hell. Oh! what a thought! An immortal soul so driven to despair through a sense of guilt in the presence of holiness, as to seek a shelter in the depths of darkness — as to cry “to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb.” (Rev. 6:16.) But even now when the gospel of God’s grace is preached to sinners, it is said of such, “And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.” (John 3:19.) Ο that all such might be induced now to come to the light — the light of eternal love — the light of the cross of Jesus — the light of the boundless grace of God! Come! Ο sinner, come! Better far be revealed now in the light of the glorious gospel where all is grace and love — where thy many sins can be pardoned, and where eternal life is received as the gift of God, than be revealed before the face of the Judge, when the door of mercy is closed. Why not come? Is there not a terrible sting in sin, even now, when the pleasure of it is past? Hast thou not tasted this, Ο my fellow-sinner? How many are maddened to deeds of violence through the remorse and bitterness of sin, when the pleasure that led on to it is turned into gall and wormwood? But what must its bitterness be in that place where hopeless despair seizes the soul in all its dread reality? There, nothing but the sin and the sting remain, with the fearful conviction that no relief can ever come.
Why not then, my fellow-sinner, be entreated to come to Jesus now — just now? If so guilty — so far down in the social scale, that thou art ashamed of thyself in the presence of others — yet thou mayest freely, trustingly come to Jesus. Thou wilt be welcome there. And rest assured of a present pardon, salvation, and acceptance, through his precious blood. Such was the experience of the woman that was a sinner, and of the penitent thief on the cross; and such may be thine. He who died on the cross for thee and me, is surely fit to be trusted. And say, would He have died for us if He had not loved us? Oh! lift thine eyes to that cross, and see His unquenchable love bleeding there! Seekest thou another sign save the sign of the cross? God forbid! The great reality in the universe, is the love of Jesus! Heaven, earth, and hell, for a time, were all against the sinner’s Substitute. All refuge failed Him. (Psalm 142:4.) But then it was that His love burst forth through every weight and pressure in all its native strength and glory. Many waters could not quench His love, no floods could drown it; though He could say, in spirit, “the waters compassed me about, even to the soul: the depths closed me round about, the weeds were wrapped about my head.” (Jonah 2:5.) Again, and again, we would ask thee — Wilt thou, dost thou, value the love that willingly passed through all this suffering for the chief of sinners? And, with what end in view, thinkest thou? That they might one day share with Him His throne in glory. Do lean all thy weight on Jesus — trust all to Him. His eye can never grow dim — His arm can never become feeble — His heart can never turn cold. For time and for eternity, thou art only safe and happy in trusting Him.
But see, Ο my soul, how far thou hast wandered from the footsteps of the flock — from their joys and sorrows. Well, be it so. The Good Shepherd was content to leave the ninety-and-nine that were secure, and go far into the wilderness after a single lost sheep, and seek until He found it.
We were speaking of the two-fold aspect of the Christian’s experience. The cup of natural sorrow, and the cup of spiritual joy. He may know, at times, what it is to have both cups filled to overflowing. The poor human heart may be so broken with sorrow, that it cannot look up; strength, motive, object, as to this life, may be gone. At such a moment he feels a pressure as if he were down and could never rise up again. And surely, but for the Lord’s helping hand, he must have gone a step beyond the rallying point. Such is the crushing, exhausting weight of human sorrow — and such, the Lord’s loved ones may be allowed to experience. The blessed Lord Himself as the Man of sorrows, had deeper experience therein than any of His people ever can have. And now as the living Head, and great High Priest of His people, He knows how to succor, and raise up, the sorrow-stricken soul.
Just at this point, the Lord may so reveal Himself to the soul as to draw the eye away from its own sorrow, and turn aside the keen edge of its anguish. Not that the trial is removed, or less; nay, it may be deepening, and that which is dreaded may be unmistakably drawing near. But the soul, we may say, is now in two regions—two states of being. In nature, amidst the desolations of earth; in faith, amidst the unchangeable realities of heaven. Both are real; but the spiritual joy changes the character of the earthly sorrow, and strengthens to bear it. Quietness of soul being restored, it now remembers, that the happy soul is only called up to wait with the Lord, and to enjoy a quiet time with Him before the public display of His glory. But, oh! what experience; and how real! To have poured out, at the same moment, a full cup of joy, and a full cup of sorrow too! The latter, we know, shall ere long be clean forgotten; but the former will be remembered throughout eternity, as one of the strongest, sweetest expressions of the Savior’s compassion, love, and tender sympathy.
In Rom. 5:1-11 we have this line of christian experience clearly set before us. It may be profitable to glance at it for a moment. To have a personal and spiritual acquaintance with these eleven verses, is a rich inheritance to the soul. “Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.” In these two verses, the full blessing of the soul, with reference to the past, the present, and the future, is summed up. The work of Christ is the basis of it all. “Who was delivered for our offenses, and was raised again for our justification.”
As to the past, in the case of every believer, all is blotted out — all connected with the old man came to its end, in God’s sight, on the cross. Both the root and fruit of sin were judged there. All that needed putting away, was put away, according to the claims of God’s glory and the sinner’s need. Hence, the Christian is now one with Christ in resurrection. Death, judgment, the world, sin, and Satan, are behind him. On this ground — the ground of death and resurrection, there is perfect peace for the Christian — peace with God. “Being justified by faith we have peace with God.” As to the present, we are introduced to the full favor of God. Our standing is in grace. “We have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand.” And as to the future, we “rejoice in hope of the glory of God.” We are placed between the cross and the crown; our yesterday was Calvary, our tomorrow is glory.
This is true christian condition; not experience, but faith. Being justified, having peace, standing in grace, waiting for glory. Experience flows from this condition. The Spirit, of God having conducted the Christian to the very height of his condition, as a new man in Christ, and even given him a glimpse of the glory behind the veil, He brings him back, as it were, to taste, in experience, the trials of this life. Still he can glory. He glories in the depths as well as on the heights. None can glory in tribulation as those who are rejoicing in the immediate hope of the glory of God. So it was with the great apostle, who was “caught up to the third heavens.” There he found Christ as the only ground of his glorying; but when down here again, and in tribulation through “a thorn in the flesh,” he found the same Christ in the depths with him. “Most gladly therefore,” he exclaims, “will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” And such experience we also find in the eleven verses before us. “And not only so, but we glory in tribulation also; knowing that tribulation worketh patience f and patience, experience; and experience, hope; and hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us.” Thus the wheels of his soul are set in motion, and, through deep exercise, he again, we may say, reaches the heights. He has now the blessed enjoyment of the love of God shed abroad in his heart, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. What a blessed state of soul to be in, though under the very shadow of death! But this is not all; he has more to learn in this vale of tears, he must go through another kind of experience. The Christian is again brought back, not to the lesson of tribulation, but to an experimental acquaintance with the depths of his own moral ruin. What he was, as without strength, ungodly, a sinner, and an enemy, he is now taught; but he learns these humiliating truths in the light of God’s perfect love, and the Savior’s perfect work, and the Holy Spirit’s presence. And mark now, Ο my soul, the point he reaches by this process; higher he can never be raised. “But we also joy in God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Surely, joying in God Himself, surpasses all our enjoyment of the things he gives.
Well mayest thou wonder, Ο my soul, at what may be known, experienced, and enjoyed by the poor pilgrim saint in the wilderness. In the eyes of men he may appear a heartless, soulless, joyless, undefinable inhabitant of earth. But oh! what depths he penetrates — what heights he scales — what sights he sees — what power he commands, and what glory gilds his path! With him, it is glory on the threshold of heaven, and glory in the valley of humiliation. He knows the history of the future better than the past, and divine light sheds its rays on the present. Ah! poor, blind, dead world, thou knowest not this mysterious man! Oh! that thou wouldst but come to Him who is the light of life, and the light of men. Grace has no evil eye: what it has it longs for thee to share. It preaches, prays, watches, that thou mayest know and love the only Friend of sinners. Were one candle to light a dozen, its own light would be undiminished, but the united light is stronger and better. Now, just now, cast in thy lot with those who are walking in the light of the Lord; and may thine own path be as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.
“Though in my flesh dwell no good thing,
Yet Christ in me I joyful sing,
Sin I confess, and I deny;
For, though I sin, it is not I.

I sin against, and with, my will:
I’m innocent, yet guilty still.
Though fain I’d be the greatest saint,
To be the least I’d be content.

My lowness may my height evince,
I’m both a beggar and a prince;
With meanest subjects I appear,
With kings a royal scepter bear.

I’m both unfettered and involved;
By law condemned, by law absolved;
My guilt condignly punished see,
Yet I the guilty one go free.

My gain did by my loss begin;
My righteousness commenced by sin;
My perfect peace by bloody strife;
Life is my death, and death my life.

I am not worth one dusty grain,
Yet more than worlds of golden gain;
Though worthless, I myself indite,
Yet shall as worthy walk in white.”
The Believer’s Riddle, Ralph Erskine.
Meditations on the Twenty-Third Psalm
Ver. 6. “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever” We have just seen, that in the riches of christian experience, the pilgrim saint becomes intimately acquainted both with joy and sorrow. This we have been! taught both in the school of God, and by His written word.
And here I would have thee carefully note, Ο my soul, in thy meditations, that the pilgrim is now seen, not, as it were, with a cup in each hand, but with a guardian angel on each side. “Surely,” he says, “goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” And mark well the first word he utters in this bursting forth of his heart’s fullness; “Surely.” Is not this an appropriate, a triumphant note of faith, after such deep and varied experience? There are no doubts, no fears, no uncertainty here. A quiet, happy confidence fills the soul; it is the full assurance of faith. It reminds one of the last word that the blessed Lord dropped into the ear of His Bride before He went away. “Surely,” He says, “Surely I come quickly.” Oh! that it had dropped into her heart, and maintained its right place there, until His return! The word of the Lord in the heart, and the Person of the Lord before the mind, will alone give the experience, faith, and victory of the Twenty-third Psalm.
How conscious the man of God is, as he journeys along, of the dignity of his companions. He is accompanied with royal honors. Not indeed like earth’s mighty ones, with steel-clad attendants, which dazzle the human eye; but with the goodness and mercy of the living God. Such, we may say, is the pilgrim’s body-guard as he journeys through the wilderness. And when faith has said this, what more can it say? Could heaven itself furnish more suitable companions for this checkered scene? Impossible! They are ever in attendance, always ready, equal to every emergency, more than a match for every foe; they are noble, high-born, invincible; yet gentle and kindly as the pure love of heaven. And this is no fancy picture; nothing can be more real to faith. “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.”
Do think of this, Ο my soul; here pause a little; meditate; let thy thoughts dwell on this blessed truth. Beware of thinking too much of thine own condition — thine own circumstances; but think rather, of thy heavenly attendants, “goodness and mercy:” and still more, think of Him who sends them, and for so long a time — “All the days of thy life.” Canst thou speak any more of feeling, as it were, alone in this world? Faith sees these messengers of love sent down from heaven, to guard and follow thee all thy pilgrim days. But why, it may be asked, fix on goodness and mercy? Because, “goodness” meets all our need; and “mercy” forgives all our faults. It is only with such that we can get along. The Good Shepherd has trod the sheep’s path Himself, and He knows best what they need: not that He needed, in all respects, what we need; no, He was “without sin.” But, as a man, He has walked the path, under Jehovah’s care, along which His sheep and Iambs are now passing. He goes before His flock; they follow Him.
There are three things connected with the Lord our Shepherd, which all the sheep of His pasture should know well. 1. He has gone through, in experience, the bitterest trials of the wilderness; so that He knows every step, every difficulty, every danger of the way, from having walked it Himself. 2. He died for the sheep. Having first gone over their path, He laid down His life for them. 3. He arose again from the dead to fold, watch over, and nourish the flock for which He died. Thus He is qualified in every way to be the Shepherd of God’s sheep. Hence the beautiful doxology, “Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is well-pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ; to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.” Heb. 13:20, 21.
In this beautiful sixth and closing verse, our pilgrim, whom we have followed so far and so closely both in his joys and in his sorrows, may be said to have reached a moral eminence, from which he surveys the past, the present, and the future. He is placed, as it were, at the center of a circle. If we speak of christian position, the Christian, we know, is in Christ, and He is the center of all blessing and glory. And here, in this privileged place, the believer speaks only of goodness and mercy as to the whole of his wilderness life. He knows what joys and sorrows are. His experience has been great. He knows the green pastures and the quiet waters. He has tasted, too, the bitter waters of Marah, and waded through their depths. The shadows of death have darkened his path, and spread their gloom over everything in the valley. And he knows too, the rich provisions of the King’s table — the royal banquet — the anointed head, and the overflowing cup. Nevertheless, in reviewing the past, in surveying the present, he can truly say, “Goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life.” And in looking on to the future, the affection of the child, the love of home, can only see a Father’s house: “And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever”
“Goodness and mercy all my life
Shall surely follow me:
And in God’s house for evermore
My dwelling-place shall be.”
Our fellow pilgrim, with whom we must soon part, is now calmly and triumphantly anticipating his last change. His heart, with the prospect, overflows with joy and praise. All is bright; but the looked-for hour of his departure is the brightest of all, and certainly must be the happiest. Thus should it be with all Christians, and especially with those who have been taught of God, “To wait for his Son from heaven.” This is the true hope of the Church; not death, though that may take place before the Lord comes. When the great truth of the Lord’s second coming has its right place in the heart, the desire to depart becomes more the power of affection, than the bare belief of a doctrine. The Lord Himself, personally, is known and loved; and the heart longs to be with Him. It matters little whether the way be through the portals of death, or, with all saints, rapt in clouds to meet Him in the air. (1 Thess. 1:9, 10. 4:13-18.) Those who are taken home before the rapture, have the advantage of knowing the Lord in that separate state. This will be additional, and precious experience.
The position of the waiting Christian in this world, may be one of great interest and usefulness; and the ties that bind him to it, may be many and tender; still, when the eye of faith looks across the boundary line, and sees who are there, and what is there, the heart instinctively longs to join the happy throng. The loved one, or the many loved ones who have gone before, are especially thought of, though, there, the joy of each will be the joy of all. True, there will be individuality — perfect identity, but a perfect blessedness common to all.
“We look to meet our brethren
From every distant shore; —
Not one shall seem a stranger,
Though never seen before:
With angel hosts attending,
In myriads through the sky; —
Yet ‘midst them all, Thou only,
Ο Lord, wilt fix the eye.”
And what grace, we may say, notwithstanding all our murmurings, to make the closing scene of our wilderness journey, the happiest, the calmest, and the brightest! Here the soul is near the Lord, and grace shines — faith triumphs — glory dawns — and praise abounds. Placed, as it were, on the margin of the two worlds, and seeing everything in the light of God’s presence, divine goodness — unmixed goodness, crowns the whole path. Even as to his darkest earthly days, the pilgrim can see nothing now but the goodness and mercy of God. Everything is now lost sight of, but the constant, unfailing care of the Lord our Shepherd. He speaks only of the goodness that so wonderfully met all his daily need, and of the mercy that met all his daily failure.
But now the end comes — the scene closes — the Father’s house is full in view. One eye alone is bright in that social circle — one heart alone is rejoicing. “I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” As one not long ago said to a tender-hearted parent, who was greatly overcome with what seemed a last farewell: “Father — can’t you — spare me? I am only — going to Jesus — and you —shall soon follow.” Such were the soothing and remarkable words of a dear daughter who had reached the interesting age of nineteen, to an affectionate father. But who was calm — who was bright, in that touching scene? She only; and many other similar words she said, but these were uttered with a look of tender sympathy for her dear father, as she observed him sink down in his chair to give vent to a flood of tears. She now sought to comfort him who had so often read and prayed by her bedside. What grace from God! What mercy to a father — to a family! His be all the praise. It is but the deep, tender sympathy of the Good Shepherd, as He folds the lamb in His bosom.
And now, after many an hour’s meditation with deep and mingled feelings, over our beautiful Twenty-third Psalm, we must leave it for other themes; but its lessons, in connection with a Father’s hand, remain. He can engrave on the tablets of the heart, that which no waste of time can ever efface. The recollections of the past may draw a shade over the present, but the future is all, and only bright. The great thought in the closing words of the psalm is home. All the vicissitudes of the wilderness are over; and the only thought that now fills the mind is home — an eternal, happy home. “I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” There, the worn and weary pilgrim finds his perfect rest; there, the one who was a stranger on earth, finds his heavenly home; and there, the servant whose work is finished, enters into the joy of his Lord.
“There at our Savior’s side,
In heaven our home!
We shall be glorified;
Heaven is our home!
There with the good and blest,
Those we love most and best,
We shall forever rest,
In heaven our home!”
The Lord grant, that both reader and writer may, in due time, reach that happy home! Of all thoughts — of all words, what can be sweeter to the heart than “Home, sweet home?” And, even now, may all who have followed us in our studies through the psalm, be able, in blessed experience, to say, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”