Gleanings in the Psalms

Verses 13-14. “Like as a father pitieth his children, so the lord pitieth them that fear him. For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust.” To those who truly reverence his holy name, the Lord is a father and acts as such. These he pities for in the very best of men the Lord sees much to pity, and when they are at their best state, they still need his compassion. Fathers feel for their children especially when they are in pain, they would like to suffer in their stead, their sighs, and groans cut them to the quick: thus, sensitive towards us is our Heavenly Father. We do not adore a god of stone, but the living God who is tenderness itself. His pity never fails to flow, and we never cease to need it. “He knoweth our frame.” He knows how we are made, for he made us. Our make and build, our constitution and temperament, our prevailing infirmity, and most besetting temptation he well perceives, for he searches our inmost nature. “He remembereth that we are dust.” Made of dust, dust still, and ready to return to dust. We have sometimes heard of “the Iron Duke,” and of Iron constitutions, but the words are soon belied, for the Iron Duke is dissolved, and other men of like vigour are following to the grave, where “dust to dust” is an appropriate requiem.

Verse 17. “But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children’s children.” The “pity” that the heavenly Father exercises towards His children is nowhere more clearly realised than in His mercy towards them. It is the mercy of God that determines the whole turning point for us from our lost condition to our state in grace and glory. By nature, we are dead in trespasses and sins, and the children of wrath, even as others; “But God,” says Paul, “who is rich in mercy;” and on that the whole tables swings round. No wonder Matthew Henry saw in the prodigal’s father a vivid picture of the heavenly Father going out to meet the returning sinner: - “His father saw him: there were eyes of mercy. He ran to meet him; there were legs of mercy. He put his arms round his neck; there were arms of mercy. He kissed him; there were kisses of mercy. He said to him; there were words of mercy. Bring hither the best robe; there were deeds of mercy. And put it on; there were wonders of mercy. All mercy! Oh, what a God of mercy He is.”

Verse 17. “But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting …” From everlasting, by predestination: to everlasting, by glorification. The one without beginning, the other without end.

Verse 22. “Bless the Lord, all his works in all places of his dominion: bless the Lord, O my soul.” We are very much struck by this sudden transition from “all his works in all places of his dominion” to the psalmist himself, a solitary individual. Of course, he had already included himself; he had included himself when he had summoned all God’s works in all places of his dominion to bless the Lord. But it seems as if a sudden fear had seized him – the fear of the possibility of omitting himself, or, the consciousness that in summoning others to praise and bless God, he must not forget himself. The activity of calling others must not make him sluggish in the duty or ready to take it for granted that he might not be neglectful in that very thing that he was pressing on others. And we have a great subject of discourse here. Solomon has said, “They make me the keeper of the vineyards, but mine own vineyard have I not kept.” Alas! How possible, how easy to take pains for others, and to be neglectful of one’s self. But let the pains that we take for others be the reason by which we persuade ourselves. How important that, if with the psalmist, we call on all God’s works in all places of his dominions to bless the Lord; how important, I say, that we add to that call – like persons bent on self-examination and fearful of self-deceit. – “Bless the Lord O my soul.”

And so, the psalmist finishes as he began:-