EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUAINT SAYINGS (4)

Verse 6.—“My God.” Astonishing expression! Who shall dare to say to the Creator of the ends of the earth, the Majesty in the heavens, “My God”? An exile, a wanderer, an outcast; a man forsaken, despised, reviled; a soul cast down and disquieted: he shall dare. By what right? Of covenant.—Henry March.

Verse 6.—“Therefore will I remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill Mizar.” It is remarkable what course the Psalmist took to regain comfort; he would remember three experiments of his goodness—“the land of Jordan,” the land “of the Hermonites,” and “the hill Mizar.” First will I remember the land Jordan; that is, I will remember the great goodness of God in drying up the river Jordan, that so the tribes of Israel might pass over to the promised land: why, God that hath been good, will be good. Then, I will remember the land of the Hermonites; in that land were Sihon, king of the Amorites, and Og king of Bashan, were defeated; that you read of in Joshua xii. 1, 2. “Now these are the kings of the land, which the children of Israel smote, and possessed their land on the other side Jordan toward the rising of the sun, from the river Arnon unto Mount Hermon.” Mizar, some think to be a little hill near Mount Sinai, where the law was given. I will remember God’s goodness, in giving a law to his people. Here David would call to remembrance the goodness of God of old, to regain to him comfort and quietness in his mind.—Christopher Love.

Verse 6.—“The Hermons,” or the peaks or ridges of Hermon, the plural being used either because of the two peaks of the mountain (Wilson, “Land of the Bible”), or as I think probably, of the whole range of its snowy hights.—J. J. Stewart Perowne.

Verse 6.—“The Hermons,” i.e., as some suppose, Mount Hermon, and the other mountains upon that side of the river, just as Baalim means Baal, and other idols worshipped with him; or more probably Mount Hermon considered not as a single eminence, but a chain or range, like the Alps, the Alleghanies, etc.—J. A. Alexander.

Verse 6.—“From the hill.” He that has a rich life of past experience is thereby placed upon an eminence from which he may take a happy view of the path lying before him.—J. P. Lange’s Commentary.

Verse 7.—“Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts.” Here he has conjoined two awful and terrific phenomena of nature. It is a fact well ascertained by the evidence of travellers, that the falling of waterspouts is not uncommon on the coast of Judea. It should seem that they are occasioned by the congregating of great masses of cloud, whose waters concentrating to a point, pour themselves down in a tremendous column, accompanied with a roaring noise. Now, the image conceived in the mind of the Psalmist seems to be that of the rushing of this vast water-spout down into the sea, already agitated, and increasing the turbulence and disorder of its waves. An awful picture! Especially if there be added to it the ideas of a black tempestuous sky, and the deafening roar occasioned by the tumult. What would be the situation of a vessel in the midst of such a tempest, the deluge pouring down from above, and all around her the furious ocean heaving its tremendous surges—how ungovernable, how helpless, how next to impossible that she should escape foundering except by some almost miraculous interference. Yet to such a situation does David here compare the state of his soul when submersed, as it were, under a sea of afflictions; “all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.” How pungent must his sense of grief have been to occasion him to make use of such a comparison, so strongly expressive of the utmost danger and terror!—Henry March.

Verse 7.—“Deep calleth unto deep,” etc. The abyss above calls on the abyss below, in the voice of the droppings of thy waterspouts.—Targum.

Verse 7.—“Deep calleth unto deep.” So let prayer unto prayer, and faith unto faith, and one grace to the exercise of another. If we cannot prevail with God it may be the first time, yet we may the second; or if not then, the third.—Thomas Horton.

Verse 7.—“Deep calleth unto deep.” What’s that? Why, it is expressed in the verse before: “O God,” says he, “my soul is cast down within me.” “Down,” that is deep into the jaws of distrust and fear. And, Lord, my soul in this depth of sorrow, calls for help to thy depth of mercy. For though I am sinking and am going down, yet not so low but that thy mercy is yet underneath me. Do, of thy compassions, open those everlasting arms, and catch him that has no help or stay in himself. For so it is with one that is falling into a well or a dungeon.—John Bunyan.

Verse 7.—Here the Psalmist feels the spirit of bondage, which is wrath and fear; and he prays for the joy of God’s salvation, and to be upheld by God’s free spirit, which is the Holy Spirit, the spirit of love and power. He complains of “deep calling unto deep.” A soul in the horrible pit hears little else but the calls of law and justice for vengeance, which are always answered again by the accusations of Satan and conscience. The storms of Sinai, like a water-spout at sea, threaten the earthen vessel with a deluge of wrath, which would soon drown it in destruction and perdition. These waves of real, and some imaginary, displeasure (no less terrible than real), rolling over the poor creature, are ready to send the bark to the bottom. This is the terrible way in which some fallen and backsliding souls are purged and reclaimed, and especially such as have brought public scandal upon the gospel, and church of Christ.—William Huntington (1744-1813) in “Contemplations of the God of Israel.”

Verse 7.—“Thy waterspouts,” Dr. Boothroyd translates צִנּוֹרֶיךָ, “thy cataracts.” In justification of which translation, he observes that the situation of David suggested this forcible image. He saw the torrents falling from the precipices, and heard them resounding, and as if calling to one another for assistance; so, says he, all thy waves, that is, afflictions and troubles, come upon me and overwhelm me.—John Morison.

Verse 7.—“Waterspouts.” Look at those clouds which hang like a heavy pall of sackcloth over the sea, along the western horizon. From them, on such windy days as these, are formed waterspouts, and I have already noticed several incipient “spouts” lengthening downward from their lower edge. These remarkable phenomena occur most frequently in spring, but I have also seen them in autumn. They are not accompanied with much rain; and between the dark stratum above and the sea, the sky is clear and bright. Here and there fragments of black vapour, shaped like long funnels, are drawn down from the clouds towards the sea, and are seen to be in violent agitation, whirling round on themselves as they are driven along by the wind. Directly beneath them the surface of the sea is also in commotion by a whirlwind, which travels on in concert with the spout above. I have often seen the two actually unite in mid air, and rush toward the mountains, writhing, and twisting, and bending, like a huge serpent, with its head in the clouds and its tail on the deep.

They make a loud noise, of course, and appear very frightful. “Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me,” said David, when his soul was cast down within him. But, though formidable in appearance, they do very little injury. I have never heard of more than one instance in which they proved destructive even to boats, though the sailors are extremely afraid of them. As soon as they approach the shore, they dissolve and disappear. That kind of waterspout which bursts on the mountains, generally in the dry months of summer, does immense mischief. In a few minutes the wadies along its track are swollen into furious rivers, which sweep away grain, olives, raisins, and every other produce of the farmer. I have frequently known them to carry off and drown flocks of sheep and goats, and even cows, horses, and their owners also.—W. M. Thomson.

Verse 7.—“All thy waves and thy billows.”

Verse 7.—“All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.”

Verse 8.—“Yet the Lord will command his lovingkindness.” His expression is remarkable; he does not say simply that the Lord will bestow, but, “command his lovingkindness.” As the gift bestowed is grace—free favour to the unworthy; so the manner of bestowing it is sovereign. It is given by decree; it is a royal donative. And if he commands the blessing, who shall hinder its reception?—Henry March.

Verse 8.—’Tis all one to a godly man, night or day. For what night can there be to him who hath God always with him, who is a sun to comfort him, as well as a shield to protect him (Ps. lxxxiv. 11); and the light of whose countenance, if it be but very little, is more comfortable than all things else whatsoever that the day can bring with it. He can say, “When I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me” (Mic. vii. 8); and “the Lord my God will enlighten my darkness.” Ps. xviii. 28. To tell you the truth, I think the night is the merriest time that the godly man hath, and the saddest for the wicked man (who, though he make use of darkness to hide his sin, yet is he afraid, because of that very thing in which his safety consists). For if a man be merry in good company, he must needs be more merry when he enjoys it better, and there is less to disturb his mirth. So as it is with a godly man in the night, when the greatest part of his hindrances are removed, and he can “delight himself in the Almighty” without disturbance. Job. xxvii. 10. David says that the Lord would indeed “command his lovingkindness in the daytime,” but “in the night (says he) his song shall be with me”—“his song,” as I think, not of thanksgiving, but of joy and exultation, such as God uses to give at that time. Job. xxxv. 10. In the daytime the soul is so taken up with base employments, so distracted with variety of sensible objects, and so busied with work for the body, that either she hath no leisure at all to do her own work (such as this joy is as much as anything), or she cannot do it so well as she would, or so well as she could in the night, when she hath less to do. I doubt not but the worldly and carnal man, now that I am talking so much of night and sleep, will be ready to say that I do but dream, and to answer me as the fellow did the hunter, when he bade him hear “what heavenly music his dogs made.” For I know he counts the music and songs that we speak of, nothing but a frenzy, or a fancy at the least, such as mad and diseased people have in their brain, while they imagine it to be in the air. But, as Peter said of those upon whom the Holy Ghost fell, “These men are not drunk, as ye suppose;” so may I reply to such men, No such matter, the godly are not mad, as ye suppose, for their songs are not works of their own fancy, not made of their own head, but set for them by God himself, “who giveth songs in the night.” Job. xxxv. 10.—Zachary Bogan.

Verse 8.—“And my prayer unto the God of my life.” Here may be seen that David’s religion was a religion of prayer after deliverance, as well as before. The selfish who cry out in trouble will have done with their prayers, when the trouble is over. With David it was the very reverse. Deliverance from trouble would strengthen his confidence in God, embolden his addresses to him, and furnish him with new arguments.... There is great need of prayer after deliverance; for the time of deliverance is often a time of temptation, the soul being elated, and thrown off its guard. At such seasons much of the joy that is felt may be merely natural, as David’s would probably be when rescued from that corroding care which injures the body as well as distresses the soul. There is danger of mistaking; of supposing it to be all spiritual, and hence of imagining the soul to be in a higher state of grace than it really is, and so, of being imperceptibly drawn into a state of false security. There is then especial need of that prayer. “Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe.” And with some peculiarly, who being of a sanguine constitution of mind, are in times of enjoyment, soon puffed up and brought into danger.—Henry March.