EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUAINT SAYINGS (2)

Verse 2.—Let no one think these expressions of penitence (verses 1-4) overstrained or excessive. They are the words of the Holy Spirit of God, speaking by the mouth of the man after God’s own heart. If we were as repentant as David, we should bring home to ourselves his language; as it is, our affections are chilled, and therefore we do not enter into his words.... And let us observe how all the miseries are referred to their proper end. The sin is not bewailed merely on account of its ill effect on the guilty one, but on account of the despite done to God. The Psalmist’s first thought is the “anger” of the Lord, and his “hot displeasure.” It is not the “arrows” that afflict him so much as that they are God’s. “Thine arrows stick fast in me, and thy hand presseth me.” The reason why there is no health in his flesh is because of God’s displeasure. Such is true contrition, “not the sorrow of the world which worketh death, but the sorrow that worketh repentance not to be repented of.”—A Commentary on the Seven Penitential Psalms. Chiefly from Ancient Sources [by A. P. F.], 1847.

Verse 2.—“Thy hand presseth me sore.” Not the hand of Egypt or Ashur; then were it hand for hand, a duel of some equality: hand to hand; here forces and stratagems might achieve the victory: but “Thy hand.” The weight of a man’s blow is but weak, according to the force and pulse of his arm; as the princes of Midian answered Gideon, when he bade his son try the dint of his sword upon them; “Rise thou, and fall upon us: for as the man is, so is his strength.” Judges viii. 21. But “it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” Heb. x. 31. As Homer called the hands of Jupiter χείρες ἄεπτοι, hands whose praise could not be sufficiently spoken; which some read χείρες ἄαπτοι, hands inaccessible, irresistible for strength: all the gods in heaven could not ward a blow of Jupiter’s hand. This hand never strikes but for sin; and where sin is mighty his blow is heavy.—Thomas Adams.

Verse 3.—“Thine anger ... my sin.” I, alas! am as an anvil under two hammers; one of thine anger, another of my sin; both of them beating incessantly upon me; the hammer of thine anger beating upon my flesh and making that unsound; the hammer of my sin beating upon my bones and making them unquiet; although indeed both beat upon both: but thine anger more upon my flesh, as being more sensible; my sin more upon my bones, as being more obdurate. God’s anger and sin are the two efficient causes of all misery; but the procatartic[13] cause indeed is sin: God’s anger, like the house that Samson pulled upon his own head, falls not upon us but when we pull it upon ourselves by sin.—Sir Richard Baker.

Verse 3.—“My flesh ... my bones.” I know by the unsoundness of my flesh that God is angry with me; for if it were not for his anger my flesh would be sound: but what soundness can there be in it now, when God’s angry hand lies beating upon it continually, and never ceaseth? I know by the unquietness of my bones that I have sin in my bosom; for if it were not for sin my bones would be quiet. But what quietness can be in them now, when sin lies gnawing upon them incessantly with the worm of remorse? One would think my bones were far enough removed and closely enough hidden from sins doing them any hurt: yet see the searching nature, the venomous poison of sin, which pierceth through my flesh, and makes unquietness in my very bones. I know my flesh is guilty of many faults, by which it justly deserves unsoundness; but what have my bones done? for they minister no fuel to the flames of my flesh’s sensuality; and why then should they be troubled? But are not my bones supporters of my flesh, and are they not by this at least accessory to my flesh’s faults? As accessories, then, they are subject to the same punishment the flesh itself is, which is the principal.—Sir Richard Baker.

Verse 3.—“Neither is there any rest in my bones because of my sin.” A Christian in this life is like quicksilver, which hath a principle of motion in itself, but not of rest: we are never quiet, but as the ball upon the racket, or the ship upon the waves. As long as we have sin, this is like quicksilver: a child of God is full of motion and disquiet.... We are here in a perpetual hurry, in a constant fluctuation; our life is like the tide; sometimes ebbing, sometimes flowing; here is no rest; and the reason is because we are out of centre. Everything is in motion till it comes at the centre; Christ is the centre of the soul; the needle of the compass trembles till it comes to the North Pole.—Thomas Watson.

Verse 3.—Learn here of beggars how to procure succour and relief. Lay open thy sores, make known thy need, discover all thy misery, make not thy case better than it is. Beggars by experience find that the more miserable they appear to be, the more they are pitied, the more succoured; and yet the mercies of the most merciful men are but as drops in comparison of the oceans of God’s mercies; and among men there are many like the priest and Levite in the parable (Luke x. 30-32). that can pass by a naked, wounded man, left half dead, and not pity him nor succour him. But God, like the merciful Samaritan, hath always compassion on such as with sense of their misery are forced to cry out and crave help. Read how Job, chap. vi. and vii; David, Ps. xxxviii, 3, etc., Hezekiah, Isa. xxxviii. 10, etc., and other like saints, poured out their complaints before the Lord, and withal observe what mercy was showed them of the Lord, and you may have in them both good patterns how to behave yourselves in like cases, and good encouragement so to do. This is it which God expecteth of us, and whereunto he desireth to bring us, that seeing our own emptiness and insufficiency, and the impotency and disability of others to help us, we should in all humility fly to his mercy.—William Gouge.

Verse 4.—“For mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as an heavy burden they are too heavy for me.” David proceeds to a reason why his prayer must be vehement, why these miseries of his are so violent, and why God’s anger is permanent, and he finds all this to be, because in his sins, all these venomous qualities, vehemence, violence, and continuance, were complicated, and enwrapped; for he had sinned vehemently, in the rage of lust, and violently, in the effusion of blood, and permanently, in a long and senseless security. They are all contracted in this text into two kinds, which will be our two parts in handling these words: first, the Supergressæ super, “Mine iniquities are gone over my head,” there is the multiplicity, the number, the succession, and so the continuation of his sin; and then, the Gravatæ super, “My sins are as a heavy burden, too heavy for me,” there is the greatness, the weight, the unsupportableness of his sin. St. Augustine calls these two distinctions or considerations of sin, ignorantiam, et difficultatem; first that David was ignorant, that he saw not the tide, as it swelled up upon him, abyssus abyssum, depth called upon depth; and all thy waters, and all thy billows are gone over me (says he in another place); he perceived them not coming till they were over him, he discerned not his particular sins then when he committed them, till they came to the supergressæ super, to that height that he was overflowed, surrounded, his iniquities were gone over his head; and in that St. Augustine notes ignorantiam, his unobservance, his inconsiderations of his own case; and then he notes difficultatem, the hardness of recovering, because he that is under water hath no air to see by, no air to hear by, he hath nothing to reach to, he touches not ground, to push him up, he feels no bough to pull him up, and therein that further notes difficultatem, the hardness of recovering. Now Moses expresses these two miseries together, in the destruction of the Egyptians, in his song, after Israel’s deliverance and the Egyptians’ submersion, “The depths have covered them” (there is the supergressæ super, their iniquities, in that punishment of their iniquities were gone over their heads), and then, they sank into the bottom like a stone (says Moses), there is the gravatæ super, they depressed them, suppressed them, oppressed them, they were under them, and there they must lie. The Egyptians had, David had, we have, too many sins to swim above water, and too great sins to get above water again when we are sunk.—John Donne.

Verse 4.—“As an heavy burden they are too heavy for me.” No strength is so great but it may be overburdened: though Samson went light away with the gates of Gaza, yet when a whole house fell upon him it crushed him to death. And such, alas! am I; I have had sin as a burden upon me ever since I was born, but bore it a long time as light as Samson did the gates of Gaza; but now that I have pulled a whole house of sin upon me, how can I choose but be crushed to death with so great a weight? And crushed, O my soul, thou shouldst be indeed, if God for all his anger did not take some pity on thee, and for all his displeasure did not stay his hand from further chastening thee.—Sir Richard Baker.

Verse 4.—It is of singular use to us, that the backslidings of the holy men of God are recorded in Holy Writ. Spots appear nowhere more disagreeable than when seen in a most beautiful face, or on the cleanest garment. And it is expedient to have a perfect knowledge of the filthiness of sin. We also learn from them to think humbly of ourselves, to depend on the grace of God, to keep a stricter eye upon ourselves, lest perhaps we fall into the same or more grievous sins. Gal. vi. 1.—Herman Witsius, D.D., 1636-1708.

Verses 4, 5.—It is only when we can enter into all that is implied here that we begin to see our exceeding sinfulness. There is a certain feeling of sin which does not interfere with our pride and self-respect. We can have that sort of feeling, and say pretty earnestly, “Mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as an heavy burden they are too heavy for me.” But it is otherwise with us when we get to know ourselves better and to feel ourselves loathsome in our wickedness, when our folly and meanness and ingratitude oppress us, and we begin to loathe ourselves, and can enter into verse five. Our wounds, once an object of self-pity, and something in which we could claim sympathy and healing from our friends, have become “corrupt,” because of the meanness and folly we feel to be in us. We hide them now, for if they were seen, would not “lovers and friends stand aloof from our sore?” Then we are silent except to God, “For in thee, O Lord, do I hope: thou wilt hear, O Lord my God,” verse 15. O love of God that turns not away! O blessed Jesus, that turned not away from the leprous man that fell upon his face and said, “If thou wilt, thou canst make me clean,” but put forth thine hand and touched him, saying, “I will: be thou clean,” to whom can we go but unto thee!—Mary B. M. Duncan.

Verse 5.—“My wounds stink and are corrupt,” etc. These expressions seem to be in a great measure figurative, and significant rather of the diseased state of his mind than of his body.—William Walford.

Verse 5.—“My wounds stink and are corrupt.”—I know, O Lord, I have done most foolishly, to let my sores run so long without seeking for help; for now, “My wounds stink and are corrupt,” in as ill a case as Lazarus’ body was when it had been four days buried; enough to make any man despair that did not know thee as I do. For, do not I know, that nullum tempus occurrit tibi; do not I know thou hast as well wisdom to remedy my foolishness as power to cure my wounds? Could the grave hold Lazarus when thou didst but open thy mouth to call him forth? No more can the corruption of my sores be any hindrance to their healing when thy pleasure is to have them be cured. Although, therefore, I have done my own discretion wrong to defer my care, yet I will not do thy power wrong to despair of thy cure: for, how should I despair, who know thee to be as powerful as thou art merciful; if I may not rather say, to be as merciful as thou art powerful!—Sir Richard Baker.