Psalms 77

1. I WILL cry unto God with my voice; Even unto God with my voice, and he will give ear unto me. 2 In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord: My hand was stretched out in the night, and slacked not; My soul refused to be comforted. 3 I remember God, and am disquieted: I complain, and my spirit is overwhelmed. [Selah 4 Thou holdest mine eyes watching: I am so troubled that I cannot speak. 5 I have considered the days of old, The years of ancient times. 6 I call to remembrance my song in the night: I commune with mine own heart; And my spirit made diligent search. 7 Will the Lord cast off for ever? And will he be favourable no more? 8 Is his mercy clean gone for ever? Doth his promise fail for evermore? 9 Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies? [Selah 10 And I said, This is my infirmity; But I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High.

11. I will make mention of the deeds of the LORD; For I will remember thy wonders of old. 12 I will meditate also upon all thy work, And muse on thy doings. 13 Thy way, O God, is in the sanctuary [in holiness]: Who is a great god like unto God? 14 Thou art the God that doest wonders: Thou hast made known thy strength among the peoples. 15 Thou hast with thine arm redeemed thy people, The sons of Jacob and Joseph. [Selah 16 The waters saw thee, O God; The waters saw thee, they were afraid: The depths also trembled. 17 The clouds poured out water; The skies sent out a sound: Thine arrows also went abroad. 18 The voice of thy thunder was in the whirlwind; The lightnings lightened the world; The earth trembled and shook. 19 Thy way was in the sea, And thy paths in the great waters, And thy footsteps were not known. 20 Thou leddest thy people like a flock, By the hand of Moses and Aaron.

THE third chapter of Habakkuk should be read with this Psalm, to which it contains frequent allusions, and of which it is in some sense a continuation. The Psalm can scarcely be an imitation, its purpose and unity forbid such a supposition; but its spirit, and some phrases in it, may have so impressed themselves upon the national memory as to be repeated in later prophecy. The expressions in Habakkuk, which seem imitations of the Psalm, are fuller. G. H. S. J.

This Psalm is the record, first, of a sorrow long and painfully questioning with itself, full of doubts and fears, trying in vain to find in itself, or in the past, a light for the present; and then, of the triumph over that sorrow by the recollection of God’s love and power, as manifested in the early history of Israel. By whom the Psalm was written, or to what period of the history it is to be referred, it is now impossible to say.

But whenever and by whomsoever the Psalm may have been written, it clearly is individual, not national. The allusions to the national history may indeed show that the season was a season of national distress, and that the sweet singer was himself bowed down by the burden of the time, and oppressed by woes which he had no power to alleviate; but it is his own sorrow, not the sorrows of others, under which he sighs, and of which he has left the pathetic record. The Psalm falls naturally into two principal parts; the first (vs. 1-9), containing the expression of the Psalmist’s sorrow and disquietude; the second (vs. 10-20), telling how he rose above them. P.

The prophet, oppressed with a heavy weight of affliction, pathetically describes the conflicts and internal contests to which he is subjected, before he is enabled to rise from the depths of woe to any degree of hope or confidence. In the character of a suppliant, he first pours forth his earnest prayers to the God of his hope. He next endeavors to mitigate his sorrows by the remembrance of former times; but this, on the contrary, only seems to aggravate his sufferings, by the comparison of his present adversity with his former happiness. Again, recollecting the different methods by which the Almighty seeks the salvation of His people, appearing frequently to frown upon those “in whom He delighteth;” reconsidering also the vast series of mercies which He had bestowed upon His chosen people; the miracles which He had wrought in their favor; in a word, the goodness, the holiness, the power of the great Ruler of the universe; with all the ardor of gratitude and affection, he bursts forth into a strain of praise and exultation (vs. 13-19). In this passage we are at a loss which to admire most, the ease and grace with which the digression is made, the choice of the incidents, the magnificence of the imagery, or the force and elegance of the diction. Bishop Lowth.

2,3. It is no occasional petition hastily put up, but a struggle, like that of Jacob, through the livelong night. It is even a sorer conflict, for he has not found the blessing as Jacob did. He cannot be comforted. He would think of God, but even that thought brings him no strength; he looks within, and his sorrow deepens. V.

In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord. Days of trouble must be days of prayer; especially when God seems to have withdrawn from us we must seek Him, and seek till we find Him. In the day of his trouble he did not seek for the diversion of business or recreation to shake off his trouble, but he sought God and His favor and grace. My hand was stretched out in the night, and ceased not; as speaking the incessant importunity of his prayers. H.—He was afflicted, but in his affliction he “remembered God.” Whatever doubts he entertained as to his own condition and the favor of God toward him, yet of the Being, the power and wisdom of God, he never doubted. This faith, which in his utmost extremity he held fast, proved to be his sheet-anchor, and saved him from the shipwreck which the storms and tempests raised in his own breast seemed to threaten. Bishop Sherlock.

There are moments in the life of all believers when God and His ways become unintelligible to them. They get lost in profound meditation, and nothing is left them but a desponding sigh. But we know that the Holy Spirit intercedes for believers with God when they cannot utter their sighs (Rom. 8 : 26). Tholuck.—It is in the experience of the Divine life that doubts melt away or can be held in quiet expectancy of a solution, and that we approach gradually to the calm of those that rest beneath the altar. The thought of God that for a while brings trouble shall be made the source of hope, the pledge that all with you and with His universe shall be ordered to a happy end; and even here, amid the trouble and struggle of earth, He can put into the mouth some notes of the praise of heaven. Ker.

“Selah” doth admonish and stir up the reader or hearer to mark what was said before it; for it is a word always put after very notable sentences. John Hooper.

4. When thou canst not sleep with thine eyes, labor to see Him that is invisible; one glimpse of that sight is more worth than all the sleep that thine eyes can be capable of. Give thyself up into His hands, to be disposed of at His will. What is this sweet acquiescence but the rest of the soul? which if thou canst find in thyself thou shalt quietly digest the want of thy bodily sleep. Bishop H.

5,6. The place of audible prayer is taken by quiet soliloquy; thinking over the matter he puts himself back into the days of old, the years of bygone times, which were so rich in proofs of the power and lovingkindness of the God who was then manifest, but who is now hidden; he calls to remembrance the better past of his people and of himself, inasmuch as now in the night he of set purpose calls back into his consciousness the time when joyous thankfulness impelled him to sing songs of praise. D.

If there are hours in our life when we know that there is a living God and an eternal world, it is in a crisis when we are compelled to cling to Him in the dark, and feel, as we cling, a strength beneath that lifts us up. It is then that God enters and heaven opens, and that we know what it is to have strength in weakness, and peace in trouble, and to bear a crushing load, and feel One bearing us. This is God’s way of help, so good for us, so glorifying to Himself, and whenever it comes, in whatever degree, it is “his song in the night.” The song in the night is not only this conscious feeling, it is the expression of it, to ourselves and others. It may not be loud—not even whispered in words—but it is a resignation to the will of God, that is calm and sweet, that speaks often loudest when the lips are dumb. The song tells of a coming end to darkness, for there is prophecy in it, and wherever there is this deepest harmony—the heart at one with God in sorrow—the highest hope is never far away. If you search the history of God’s dealings you will find that it has been His manner to give these songs in the deepest night to those who look to Him. In the time of Job He was known as “God our maker, who giveth songs in the night.” Asaph remembered his “song in the night, when he communed with his heart;” and what are David’s Psalms in trouble, but songs when God made “the very night to be light about him”? Paul and Silas found it in prison, when “they prayed and sang praises at midnight, and the prisoners heard them,” for He in whom they trusted made His comforts come gliding like His own angels through the prison bars, till strange sounds of song, such as dungeons had not known before, came floating to the wondering listeners. In privation, in bereavement, in desertion, in death, these utterances of confidence in God are written down for us. In the night of trial He has filled the history of His Church as full of songs beneath as of stars of promise above. They console the hearts of the singers and they rise to join the songs of the morning stars, to announce that a ransomed company is marching through the gloom, anticipating the time when they too “shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” Ker.

6. I commune with my own heart; my spirit made diligent search.** Make up your spiritual accounts daily; see how matters stand between God and your souls. Often reckonings keep God and conscience friends. Do with your hearts as you do with your watches, wind them up every morning by prayer, and at night examine whether your hearts have gone true all that day, whether the wheels of your affections have moved swiftly toward heaven. Call yourselves often to account; keep your reckonings even; that is the way to keep your peace. Watson.—The question is, what principle sets a work? If it be an inward principle of life, out of a sincere affection and love to God and His ordinances, it argueth that man hath some life of grace; but if it be some wind that bloweth on him—the wind of State, the wind of law, the wind of danger, of penalty, the wind of fashion or custom—to do as his neighbors do; if these or the like be the things that draw him thither, this is no argument of life at all; it is a dead piece of service. Day.

7-9. He gives himself up to musing “in his heart,” i.e., in retirement within his inmost nature, inasmuch as he allows his thoughts to range unceasingly to and fro between the present and the past, and consequently his spirit begins to make scruples, his temptation grows in intensity. There now follow the doubting questions of the tempted one. D.

Saints in all ages have experienced fluctuating frames. Doubt and uncertainty take place of knowledge and truth; unbelief seems to prevail against faith, and they are ready to call all in question; not only past sweet experiences of God’s love to their souls, but the very existence of God’s promises, faithfulness, and truth. And they write many false and bitter things against themselves. “Woe is me, I am undone,” saith Isaiah. “Woe is me,” saith Jeremiah. “Without were fightings, within were fears,” say the apostles. And in this Psalm hope seems to be, as it were, giving up the ghost, and with languid, faint accents breathes, “Will the Lord cast off forever? will He be favorable no more? is His mercy clean gone forever? doth His promise fail forevermore? hath God forgotten to be gracious? hath He, in anger, shut up His tender mercies?” So you see, O tossed, tempted, tried believer, this is the way saints in all ages have gone to glory. Thou hast thy lot with them now; soon thou also shalt be where they are. How comforting, how heart-reviving to know that the Lord, “who sent redemption unto His people, will ever be mindful of His covenant, which standeth fast forever”! W. Mason.

8. God’s lovingkindness and God’s promise are the two props of his faith. P.—Cast not away your confidence because God defers His performances. Though providences run cross, though they move backward and forward, you have a sure and faithful Word to rely upon. Promises, though they be for a time seemingly delayed, cannot be finally frustrated. Dare not to harbor such a thought within yourselves. The being of God may as well fail as the promise of God. That which does not come in your time will be hastened in His time, which is always the best. Cruso.

9. In anger His tender mercies.** The words are evidently placed with design in juxtaposition, in order to heighten the contrast. Compare Hab. 3:2, “In wrath remember mercy,” where there is the same juxtaposition in the Hebrew. P.—Nay, verily, the Lord has not forgotten to be gracious, though He sometimes seems to hide His face; nor does He cease to rule the world, though He delays to interpose. The Father watches and preserves His child amid the fiercest fires of persecution; and although the furnace of the trial through which he comes be heated seven times more than usual, every degree of heat is counted, measured, regulated by the Lord Himself. Though He permits injustice, and even lets it grow to an extraordinary height, He yet employs it for a purpose that may well command our adoration and regard—the purifying and the perfecting of those who are His own. He lets the wickedness of men increase for a brief period, that He may suddenly abase them all the more; His words of comfort are withheld, just that, in His own time, He may speak far more forcibly by deeds. Van O.

10. And I said, this is my affliction, the years of the right hand of the Highest. This may be regarded as the turning-point of the entire composition. After all the repinings and misgivings just described, I said, at length, what I might and should have said before. My affliction, literally, my sickness, that specific form of suffering being put for suffering in general, as inflicted by the hand of God. The use of the word years seems to imply that the trial was one of long continuance. The Divine name or description (Most High) suggests the duty and necessity of yielding to His sovereign pleasure. A.

The thought is that the grief of the sufferer is intensified by the contrast between the present withdrawal of God’s favor, and His wonderful works of grace and power in the past. Yet he finds his greatest comfort in recalling them, and cherishes the hope that God will be equally gracious in the present sore need. De Witt.—All this that I have been asking myself, and saddening myself with asking, seems impossible, and yet it is this very change which perplexes me. And then (v. 11) he recovers himself, and passes from self-contemplation to record God’s wonders for His people. There recurs especially the one great deliverance never to be forgotten, the type and the pledge of all deliverances, whether of the nation or of the individual. On this he lays hold; by this he sustains his sinking faith. P.

Despondency of spirit and distrust of God under affliction are too often the infirmities of good people, and as such are to be reflected upon by us with sorrow and shame, as by the Psalmist here, This is my infirmity. When at any time it is working in us, we must thus suppress the rising of it, and not suffer the evil spirit to speak. We must argue down the insurrections of unbelief, as the Psalmist here, But I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High. He had been considering the years of ancient times (v. 5), the blessings formerly enjoyed, the remembrance of which did only add to his grief; but now he considered them as the years of the right hand of the Most High. That those blessings of ancient times came from the Ancient of days, from the power and sovereign disposal of His right hand, who is over all, God blessed forever, and this satisfied him; for may not the Most High with His right hand make what changes He pleases? H.

To how many of our thoughts, and feelings, and spiritual utterances may we apply these words: “This is my infirmity!” Of hard thoughts of God, of dark views of His providence, of distrustful feelings toward God, and often of corresponding thoughts and feelings toward men, we may say, “This is my infirmity.” And weakness of the body, faults in the spirit, and Satanic influence are the fountains and the causes of these utterances. The Psalmist resolves, as an antidote to despondency and fear, to bring the past and the present, recollections and existing consciousness, the day of his trouble and years of joyousness, the right hand of the Most High and his enemies and troubles—he resolves to bring them into comparison, to bring them together. “I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High.” S. Martin.—Not the moments, nor the hours, nor days of a few short afflictions, that His left hand hath dealt to me, but the “years of His right hand;” those long, large, and boundless mercies wherewith He hath comforted me. T. Adams.

It is the “infirmity” of a believer to be thinking of himself, and drawing false inferences (for all such inferences are necessarily erroneous) from what he sees or feels, as to the light in which he is beheld and estimated on the part of God. It is his strength, on the other hand, to remember the right hand of the Most High—to meditate upon the changeless truth and mercy of that God who has committed Himself in holiness to the believing sinner’s sure salvation, by causing the Son of His love to suffer in our stead. A. Pridham.—Each one of us in all the roughnesses of the road which we have to pass over may, after first acknowledging our own infirmity, repose our minds on the thought of God’s mercies to us in days gone by. Bishop H. Goodwin.

11. Remember Thy wonders. He does not mean to draw a distinction between the works and the wonders of God; but rather to state that all God’s works are wonders. All, whether in providence or grace—all God’s works are wonderful. If we take the individual experience of the Christian, it is all wonderful! Wonderful that the Spirit should strive with man; wonderful that God should bear with his backslidings; wonderful that God should love him notwithstanding his pollution; wonderful that God should persist in saving him in spite, as it were, of himself. Those who know anything experimentally of salvation through Christ, well know that the work is wonderful in its commencement, wonderful in its continuance, and they will need no argument to vindicate the transition from “works” to “wonders.” Melville.

12. His remembrance of the sublime deeds of Jehovah’s power and grace in the days of old will be prolonged and absorbing. He will meditate, will muse on these topics until they take possession of his soul and color all his thoughts and feelings. Chambers.—Meditation on Divine things makes them really profitable to us. In the mere apprehension of truth, whether through reading or hearing, there is little or no profit. The profit begins when that which is apprehended is so pondered as to become part and parcel of the man’s inner nature; just as food becomes of advantage to us when it is not only taken into the body but assimilated to it, and mixed with its substance. A man may run through a picture-gallery so as to see every painting it contains, and to derive from the sight a certain amount of pleasure; but he alone profits by such an exhibition who pauses and studies each worthy work of art, and gathers ideas from it which enrich his mind, or learns lessons from it which refine his taste, or which may guide his own efforts after excellence in art. “It is the settling of milk,” says an old writer, “that makes it turn to cream, and it is the settling of truth in the mind that makes it turn to spiritual nutriment.” W. L. Alexander.

By meditation do we ransack our deep and false hearts, find out our secret enemies, buckle with them, expel them, arm ourselves against their re-entrance. By this we make use of all good means, fit ourselves to all good duties; by this we descry all our weaknesses, obtain redress, prevent temptations, cheer up our solitariness, temper our occasions of delight, get more light into our knowledge, more heat to our affections, more life to our devotions. By this we grow to be—as we are—strangers upon earth; and, out of a right estimation of all earthly things, into a sweet fruition of invisible comforts. This alone is the remedy of security and worldliness, the pastime of saints, the ladder of heaven, and the best improvement of Christianity. Bishop H.—To set the crown on the head of the duty of meditation, add one thing over and above—let meditation be carried up to admiration; not only should we be affected, but rapt up with the beauties and transcendencies of heavenly things; act meditation to admiration, endeavor the highest pitch, as here the Psalmist in extolling the greatness and mercy of Jehovah. N. Ranee.

13. O God, in holiness is Thy way. What Mighty (One) is great like God? The common version, in the sanctuary, yields a good sense; but the other is entitled to the preference on account of Ex. 15: 11, to which place there is evident allusion. Holiness here means the Divine perfection, all that distinguishes the Maker from His creatures. Thy way, i.e., Thy mode of dealing with Thy creatures, and particularly with Thy people. The use of the name El is again significant. Who is there like God, even among the mightiest and most exalted beings? A.

Is holy; literally, “is in holiness,” not as others, “in the sanctuary,” for the Psalmist, though speaking generally of God’s redeeming love and power, is evidently thinking chiefly of the deliverance from Egypt, on which he afterward dwells. In this and the next verse there is an allusion to Ex. 15: 11: “Who is like unto Thee, O Jehovah, among the gods? Who is like Thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders?” P.—This manifest allusion demands that the same word here should take the same sense as there. Moreover, it would be difficult to find any pertinent sense for the passage in these words—“Thy way is in the temple”—since the context refers to the glorious miracles wrought of God in the redemption of His covenant people. But nothing could be more pertinent than to say: Thy ways are altogether holy, wrought in pure and perfect holiness, i.e., in supreme justice and benevolence—those great moral qualities which in their perfection distinguish the Infinite God from all the noblest creatures of earth. So also in greatness none can compare with Him. C.

14. Not only Israel, but Egypt, Bashan, Edom, Philistia, and all the nations had seen Jehovah’s power. It was no secret in the olden time, and to this day it is published abroad. God’s providence and grace are both full of displays of His power; He is in the latter peculiarly conspicuous as “mighty to save.”

Who will not be strong in faith when there is so strong an arm to lean upon? Shall our trust be doubtful when His power is beyond all question? S.

15. Thou hast redeemed. A word especially applied to the deliverance from Egyptian bondage. “The word ‘redemption,’ which has now a sense far holier and higher,” says Dean Stanley, “first entered into the circle of religious ideas at the time when God ‘redeemed His people from the house of bondage.’”

16-20. There follows now a description of the manner in which the redemption (v. 15) was accomplished in the passage of the Red Sea. In vs. 17, 18, the rain, the thunder and lightning, and the earthquake, are features of the scene not mentioned in the history in Exodus. Both Philo and Josephus add this circumstance in their narrative of the event. “The passage, as thus described,” says Dean Stanley, “was effected, not in the calmness and clearness of daylight, but in the depth of midnight, amid the roar of the hurricane, which caused the sea to go back—amid a darkness lit up only by the broad glare of the lightning, as the Lord looked out of the thick darkness of the cloud.” He then quotes these verses of the Psalm. This is one of those instances in which we obtain valuable incidental additions, by means of the psalmists and prophets, to the earlier narratives. P.

The poet describes it as if he were present: the waters convulsed to their very depths, the skies pouring out their streams, the earth quaking, the heavens gleaming and the thunder roaring. Amid such commotions in the world of nature, above and below, Jehovah marched through the sea, making a passage for His redeemed. His person and His working were invisible, but the result was manifest. The passage was accomplished safely. Chambers.

16. The waters saw Thee. The waters of the Red Sea are here beautifully represented as endued with sensibility, as seeing, feeling, and being confounded, even to the lowest depths, at the presence and power of their great Creator, when He commanded them to open a way and to form a wall on each side until His people were passed over. Bishop Horne.

18. The earth feared and became still, says Psalm 76:9; the earth trembled and shook, says Psalm 77:18. This common thought is the string upon which these two Psalms are strung. In general it may be said of this Psalm that the singer flees away from the sorrowful present into the memory of the years of the days of old, and consoles himself more especially with the picture of the deliverance from Egypt, so rich in wonders. D.

It was only God marching along the sea and making His pathway in the great waters, when in His pillar of fire and cloud He led the way for the hosts of Israel through the sea. From this conception of God it was but an easy transition of thought to say that His footsteps leave no trace behind. How soon the waters close over those supposed foot-prints of the Almighty! So the majesty and glory of His mighty works, who shall fully comprehend? They are indeed ineffably glorious, and the thought of them lifts us up from our despondency and compels us to feel that if this great God is our Friend, we can have nothing to fear; if He be the God of Zion, then Zion is forever safe under His wing and strong in His power to save. C.

God’s way is in the “sea.” He walks where we cannot always trace His footsteps. God moves mysteriously by times, as we all know. There are ways of God which are purposely to try us. And there we often find ourselves at a loss. If we are occupied with the sea itself, and with trying to scan God’s footsteps there, then “they are not known.” But confidence in God Himself is always the strength of faith. Anon.—The book of Providence is not so easily read as that of Nature; its wisdom in design and perfection in execution are by no means as plain. Here God’s way is often in the sea, His path in the mighty waters, and His footsteps are not known. But that is because the scheme of providence is not, like creation, a finished work. Guthrie.

There must be mystery in religion—a religion which lies between the finite and the infinite. Take away mystery, and we should tear out a page of evidence. But there is more hiddenness about the providence of God than’ there is about the grace of God. He has revealed much more clearly what He does and what He wills about our souls than about our bodies. As respects God’s hidden ways, there are one or two things which we ought to consider. God never meant you to understand them. We are to seek the solution of hard problems, and the quelling of our fears, and the answer to our doubts, not in the events themselves, but in the character of God; not in the book of present history, but in the volume of the Scriptures. Faith has its helps. As we live on, many things which were once fearful, involved, and hard come out kind, simple, and plain; we see, if not all, yet some of the reasons; and we are satisfied where we were once most dissatisfied. The past stands sponsor for the future. J. V.

All that is mysterious is not true, but the highest truth, the truth of God’s being and action revealed to the finite thought of man, is necessarily mysterious. It comes to us as we can bear it, shrouded beneath symbols and encased in formulae. The true, living, incomprehensible Creator is mysterious even amid His largest and most condescending revelations; and the created mind to which He discovers Himself knows full well that this very note of mystery marks the mighty interval which separates His infinity from its own finiteness. H. P. L.

We strive to know God by what He does. We question the import of events as they pass before us. We struggle to know why God does as He does here and now. This wild turmoil of earth, this conflict of good and evil, and this bearing down often of good by the evil, these sufferings which cover the earth as with a pall, these early and sudden deaths, this long delay to answer prayer, this slow advance of the kingdom of God, if it advance at all, these crushing woes that come upon portions of our race, this apparent indifference of God to them all—we stand up before these dark mysteries of God and question them; but they are dumb, “They answer not again.” “God’s ways are in the sea, and His paths in the great waters, and His footsteps are not known.” But whatever may be the cause why we know not now, we shall know hereafter if we trust here. The dark doings in God’s providence will all be solved before or at the judgment of the great day. Up to that time neither the progress of the human soul, nor the light of heaven, nor the instruction of angels or of men made perfect, will make all the dark things light. That day will reveal them. We shall see that all that has happened to us has been designed to stimulate or to encourage us; to wean us from earth and to draw us to heaven. The light of heaven itself will show us that God hath led us by a right, and by the best possible way to a city of habitation. Time is the night, eternity is the day of God. Let us trust Him where we cannot know. We shall know when it will be best to know. J. Drummond.

20. This verse stands in beautiful and touching contrast with the last. In that we have portrayed the majesty, the power, the unsearchable mystery of God’s ways; in this, His tender and loving care for His people, as that of a shepherd for his flock. P.

Thou leddest Thy people. The true philosophy of life is summed up here, in simply following God. Not that we ought not to make plans, nor to try to carry them out. Every earnest man will do that, only there is wisdom in holding our plans loosely, and subject to God’s modification. Too often we are fettered by our plans; our minds are bent on carrying out our life along those lines, and when God proceeds to change those lines, they are so rigid that there is a good deal of friction and pain attending the change. A plan assumes a future and involves forecast; and forecast is just the point where we are weakest, and the future the very thing about which we are most uncertain. Therefore, as a matter of ordinary probability, our plans will change; it is not to be supposed that we shall forecast the same things which Infinite Wisdom will forecast for us. It is wisdom to accept this fact, especially since we see it constantly illustrated in experience. V.

The closing verse is a sort of finale. Like a flock God led His people by Moses and Aaron to the promised goal. At this favorite figure, which is as it were the monogram of the Psalms of Asaph and his school, the poet stops, losing himself in the history of the redemption wrought in the days of old, a history which affords him great comfort and is to him a prophecy of the future that lies behind the bitter and grievous years of the present. D.

He says not, Moses and Aaron led the people of Israel, but, Thou leddest the people, and that Thy people, by the hand of Moses and Aaron. Great was the power of these two men; nevertheless neither of them was the shepherd of the sheep, but each was a servant to the one and only true Shepherd, to whom the sheep exclusively belonged. Nor yet was either the leader of the sheep, but the Shepherd Himself was present and led His own flock, to whom these two acted as servants. There are therefore three things to be learned from this passage: First, the sheep do not belong to the servants, but to the true Shepherd. Secondly, the true Shepherd is the leader of His own sheep. Thirdly, the office of Moses and Aaron was to attend to this duty, that the Lord’s sheep should be properly led and pastured. So Christ Himself leads the sheep, His own sheep, and for this work He employs the ministry of His servants. Musculus.

The Psalmist has reached the climax of his strain, he has found relief from his sorrow by forcing his thoughts into another channel, by dwelling on all God’s mightiest wonders of old; but there he must end. There are seasons when even the holiest faith cannot bear to listen to words of reasoning; though it can still find a support whereon to rest, in the simple contemplation, in all their native grandeur, of the deeds that God hath wrought. Thrupp.

So ends the Psalm. The one great example is given, and that is enough. All is included in that; and the troubled, desponding spirit has found peace and rest in the view of God’s redemption. “He loses himself, as it were, in the joyful recollection.” So may every sorrowful spirit now find peace and rest in looking, not to itself, not even to God’s dealings with itself, but to the cross of Christ. P.

Now as to the practical application of these inspiring facts, it was but a natural and easy inference that this same God must be still as mighty to save His people as ever—as strong against His enemies in the age of this Psalm, as when He cast Pharaoh and all his host into the depths of the sea as a stone is sunk into the mighty waters. The same great God who never lacked resources to humble the proudest nations of the ages long ago may be trusted to do all He wills in the ages present or future. That wisdom and power which stand out sublimely prominent in the great deeds of the ancient times will always be equal to any demand through all the ages. His troubled and discouraged people may safely banish their fears and give to this great God their humble confidence under whatever calamities, through whatever straits. Is anything too hard for such a God? C.

Luther was once in earnest prayer over some matter of great moment, desiring to know the mind of God in it, and it seemed as though he heard God say to him, “I am not to be traced;” and some one, commenting on this, adds, “If God is not to be traced, He is to be trusted.” The writer of this Psalm has evidently reached very satisfactory conclusions on this subject. He is in great trouble and darkness; he is tempted to doubt the goodness of the Lord; he asks, “Hath God forgotten to be gracious?” But he reaches into the cloud which veils the Divine dealings, and draws strength and comfort out of it. He says, “This is my infirmity, but I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High;” those very years when He veiled Himself in darkness, yet amid thunders and hurricane led His people through the dark and dreadful sea. “Thy way was in the sea, and Thy path in the great waters, and Thy footsteps were not known. Thou leddest Thy people like a flock.” And the secret of this confidence is revealed in the thirteenth verse, in the words, “Thy way, O God, is in the sanctuary;” or, as the best interpreters now render it, “Thy way is in holiness.” Put these two thoughts together, and one explains the other. Thy way is in the sea, dark, mysterious, dreadful; but Thy way is in holiness; in perfect wisdom inspired by perfect love, and therefore a way of truth, leading up through the darkness into the eternal light. No matter how strange the way, if it be a way of holiness. What kind of a way that is Isaiah tells us. It is a clean way; “the unclean shall not pass over it.” It is a plain way for the trusting spirit; “The wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein.” It is a safe way: “No ravenous beast shall go up thereon.” It is a way for redeemed men, redeemed from the world’s economy of sight and sense, and translated into the kingdom and life of faith; they shall walk there, yea, though it lie through the midst of the sea, with songs in the night and with everlasting joy upon their heads. No matter how deep the mystery, provided God’s holiness is behind it. If any one less than God invite us to follow him into the dark, we may rightly tremble; but if He leadeth His own people like a flock, what matters it by what ways? So long as holiness leads, Asaph and Paul may unite in saying, “We know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose,” not their own purpose. V.