EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUAINT SAYINGS

EXPLANATORY NOTES AND QUAINT SAYINGS.

Title.—Maschil. This is often prefixed to those Psalms in which David speaks of himself as being chastened by God, inasmuch as the end of chastisement is instruction.—Simon de Muis, 1587-1644.

Whole Psalm.—A prayer of the Man Christ in his humiliation, despised and rejected of men, when he was made sin for his people, that they might he made the righteousness of God in him, when he was about to suffer their punishment, pay their debt, and discharge their ransom.

Utter depravity of the inhabitants of Jerusalem; betrayment of Messiah by one of the twelve whom he had ordained to the apostolical office, and who was Messiah’s constant attendant in all his ministerial circuits.

Premature and punitive death of the traitor Judas, and of others banded together to crucify the Lord of glory.—John Noble Coleman, M.A., in “A Revision of the authorised English Versions of the Book of Psalms,” 1863.

Verse 1.—In the first clause he uses the word תְּפִלָּתִי, that he might indicate that he merely sought justice from God as a Judge; but in the second he implores the favour of God, that if perchance the prayer for justice be less becoming to himself as a sinner, God may not deny his grace.—Hermann Venema.

Verse 1.—“Hide not thyself from my supplication.” A figure taken from the conduct of a king who debars an offender from seeing his face (2 Sam. xiv. 24), or from an enemy, who conceals himself from the ox, etc.; that is, pretends not to see it, and goes away, leaving it (see Deut. xxii. 1, 3, 4; and Isa. lviii. 7); or, from a false friend, or an unkind person, who, foreseeing that he may be entreated by a miserable and needy man, will not let himself be seen, but seeks to make escape.—Martin Geier, 1614-1681.

Verse 2.—“I mourn.” As one cast down with sorrow, making a doleful noise.—Henry Ainsworth, 1622.

Verse 2.—“I mourn,” etc. A mourning suppliant shall neither lose his prayers nor his tears; for, “I mourn,” is brought for a reason of his hope that God shall attend and hear him.—David Dickson.

Verse 2.—“I mourn in my complaint.” The literal translation of these words is, I will suffer to wander in my thinking; i.e., I will let my mind wander, or my thoughts rove as they will.—J. A. Alexander.

Verse 2.—“In my complaint.” Saints have their complaints on account of their sins and corruptions, their barrenness and unfruitfulness, and the decay of vital religion in them, and because of the low estate of Zion, the declining state of the interest of Christ, and the little success of his gospel; and they mourn, in these complaints, over their own sins, and the sins of others, professors and profane, and under afflictions temporal and spiritual, both their own and the church’s. Christ also in the days of his flesh, had his complaints of the perverseness and faithlessness of the generation of men among whom he lived; of the frowardness, pride, and contentions, of his disciples; of the reproaches, insult, and injuries of his enemies; and of the dereliction of his God and Father; and he often mourned on account of one or other of these things, being a man of sorrows and acquainted with griefs.—John Gill.

Verse 2.—“In my complaint.” The word here employed commonly means discourse, meditation. It here occurs in the sense of complaint, as in Job vii. 13; ix. 27; xxi. 4; xxiii. 2; Ps. cxlii. 2; 1 Sam. i. 16. It is not used, however, to denote complaint in the sense of fault-finding, complaining, accusing, or the idea that we have been dealt with unjustly. This is not the meaning in this place or in the Scriptures generally. It is the language of a troubled, not of an injured spirit.—Albert Barnes, 1868.

Verse 2.—In confession, when the soul melts into a holy shame and sorrow for the sins he spreads before the Lord, he feels a holy smart and pain within, and doth not act a tragical part with a comical heart. Chrysostom saith, “To paint tears is worse than to paint the face.” Here is true fervency, “I mourn in my complaint and make a noise.” There may be fire in the pan when there is none in the piece; a loud wind but no rain with it. David made a noise with his voice, and mourned in his spirit.—William Gurnall, 1617-1679.

Verse 3.—“Because of the voice of the enemy,” there is their railing; “because of the oppression of the wicked,” there is their violent robbing him of his estate; “they cast iniquity upon me,” there are their slanderous traducings of him, and charging him with faults falsely; “in wrath they hate me,” there is their cruel seeking to kill.—David Dickson.

Verse 3.—“For they cast iniquity upon me.” They tumble it on me, as men do stones or anything else upon their besiegers, to endamage them; so did these sin, shame, anything, upon innocent David, to make him odious.—John Trapp.

Verse 4.—“Is sore pained,” or, trembleth with pain. The word usually meaneth such pains as a woman feeleth in her travail.—Henry Ainsworth.

Verse 4.—“The terrors of death are fallen upon me.” “My heart,” said the afflicted Psalmist, “is sore pained within me;” and though I am repeatedly assured of my interest in the divine love and favour, yet now “the terrors of death are fallen upon me.” The case of David is so far from being peculiar to himself, that it portrays in the most striking colours, a state of mind to which many of the most exemplary Christians are frequently, if not constantly, subject. Many, whose hopes are placed on the right foundation, even Christ Jesus, and whose conduct is uniform and consistent, are yet harassed almost continually by the tormenting fears of death.... It will be an interesting and useful enquiry to examine into the real causes of a fear, which cultivates melancholy and despondency on the one hand and destroys our happiness on the other. To effect this design I shall consider, I. The various causes of the fear of death. II. The arguments calculated to remove it. There are few, indeed, so hardened in the slavery of vice, or so utterly regardless of every admonition, as to consider the awful period of dissolution without some emotions of terror and dismay. There is something so peculiarly awful in the idea of a change hitherto unknown, and of a state hitherto untried, that the most hardy veterans have owned its tremendous aspects.... One of the first causes of the fear of death is conscious guilt. The most hardened are conscious of many things which they may not readily confess; and the most self-righteous is conscious of many crimes which he artfully studies to conceal. Whilst the Christian is looking only to his own habits and temper, he may and will be always wretched; but if he looks to the great Surety, Christ Jesus, his gloomy prospect will soon be turned to joy. An attachment to this world is also a (second) cause of the fear of death. A principle of self-preservation is also a (third) cause of the fear of death. That our bodies, which are pampered by pride and nourished by indulgence, should be consigned to the silent grave, and become even the food of worms, is a humbling reflection to the boasted dignity of man. Besides, nature revolts at the idea of its own dissolution; hence a desire of preserving life, evidently implanted in us. The devil is also (fourthly) often permitted to terrify the consciences of men, and thereby increase at least the fear of death. Unbelief is also a (fifth) cause of the fear of death. Were our faith more frequently in exercise, we should be enabled to look beyond the dreary mansions of the grave with a hope full of immortality. Our fears of death may be often caused by looking for that perfection in ourselves, which we shall never easily discover. II. Consider the arguments calculated to remove the fear of death. It may be necessary to premise that the consolations of religion belong only to real Christians; for the wicked have just reason to dread the approach of death. But to such as are humbled under a sense of their own unworthiness, and who have fled to Christ for pardon and salvation, they have no cause to apprehend either the pain or the consequences of death; because first, the sting of death is taken away. Secondly, because death is no longer an enemy but a friend. Instead of threatening us with misery, it invites us to happiness. Thirdly, the safety of our state is founded on the oath, the purpose, and promise of God. A fourth argument calculated to remove the fear of death, is the consideration of the benefits resulting from it. The benefits which believers receive from Christ at the resurrection also, is a fifth argument calculated to remove the fear of death.—Condensed from a Sermon by John Grove, M.A., F.A.S., 1802.

Verses 4, 5.—In the version of the Psalter used in the Prayer-book, this verse stands with a more homely and expressive simplicity, “My heart is disquieted within me, and the fear of death is fallen upon me. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and an horrible dread hath overwhelmed me.” The fear of death is upon all flesh. It is no sign of manhood to be without it. To overcome it in the way of duty is courage; to meet death with patience is faith; but not to fear it is either a gift of special grace, or a dangerous insensibility. No doubt great saints have been able to say, “I have a desire to depart.” And many have rushed to martyrdom, as to the love and bosom of their Lord; but for the rest, the multitude of his flock, who are neither wilful sinners, nor to be numbered among the saints, the thought of death is a thought of fear. We see that, on the first feeling of their having so much as set foot in the path leading to the grave, even good men feel the “terror of death,” “a horrible dread,” which makes every pulse to beat with a hurried and vehement speed. Their whole nature, both in body and in soul, trembles to its very centre; and their heart is “disquieted,” “sore pained,” within them....

Let us see what are the causes or reasons of this “fear of death.” The fact must needs be a consciousness of personal sinfulness. A sense of unfitness to meet God, our unreadiness to die, a multitude of personal faults, evil tempers, thoughts, and inclinations; the recollection of innumerable sins, of great omissions and lukewarmness in all religious duties, the little love or gratitude we have to God, and the great imperfection of our repentance; all these make us tremble at the thought of going to give up our account. We feel as if it were impossible we could be saved. Shame, fear, and a “horrible dread,” fall upon us.—Henry Edward Manning, M.A., 1850.

Verse 5.—“Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me.” In this pitiful condition of mind, learn, that it is not a thing inconsistent with godliness to be much moved with fear in time of danger; natural affections are not taken away in conversion, but sanctified and moderated.—Daniel Dickson.

Verse 5.—“Fearfulness.” How natural is this description! He is in distress, he mourns, makes a noise, sobs and sighs, his heart is wounded, he expects nothing but death; this produces fear, this produces tremor, which terminates in that deep apprehension of approaching and inevitable ruin that overwhelms him with horror. No man ever described a mounded heart like David.—Adam Clarke.

Verse 6.—“And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest.” Wherever the Psalmist cast his eye, the inscription was vanity and vexation. A deluge of sin and misery covered the world, so that like Noah’s dove he could find no rest for the sole of his foot below, therefore does he direct his course toward heaven, and say, “Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away and be at rest;” but rest is not a denizen of this world, nothing but the heaven of heavens is at rest, and here does he fix only.—Thomas Sharp (1630-1693), in “Divine Comforts.”

Verse 6.—“Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest,” King David, though for innocency not only a dove, but the phœnix of doves, and so a notable type of Christ, upon whom the Holy Ghost descended in the shape of a dove, yet was his whole life nothing else but bellum sine induciis, a perpetual persecution without intermission. Such was also the portion of Christ the Lord of David; and such to the world’s end will ever be the lot of those that are the heritage of Christ. My text imports no less; which, taken historically, is the voice of David pursued by his enemies; prophetically, the voice of Christ at his passion; mystically, the voice of that mystical dove, the innocent soul, surrounded and environed with the snares of death; even generalis quædam querela (saith Pellican), a general complaint of the malice of the wicked persecuting the righteous. For (alas that it should be! yet so it is)—