A SERMON

ON

THE PSALMIST OF ISRAEL.

Of the value of the Psalms as the noblest and purest expression of devotiona feeling, there can be no better and no stronger proof than the extensive use of them among all classes. That book must be a Divine book which can touch the sympathies of all men in all times, and be equally acceptable to all, as the truest expression of joy and grief, of hope and despondency, of victory and resignation. The Psalms of David have been, from the time they were first written, the chosen vehicles of the various feelings which find a place in the heart of man. If the Jew rejoiced in the conquest over his national enemies, some Psalm of David offered the best and readiest mode of expressing his thanksgiving. If he was carried into captivity, Sing us one of the songs of Sion' indicated that his griefs found vent in a similar channel. At his birth, his marriage, or his grave, a Psalm of David was equally applicable, equally common. So it has since been among Christians. No occasion can

befall the life of a Christian man or that of his nation for which he does not find in the Psalms of David some suitable exponent of his feelings.

But these Psalms have another and a narrower use, one

not less interesting if not so important; one also from which they ought not to be severed. Nowhere else can we gain so clear and satisfactory an insight into the innermost life of David. Such a character as David is rare enough among the rulers of this world. It is not common for kings to be poets and musicians, least of all to commit to verse their most secret thoughts and aspirations; to find and feel that love which David felt towards the Ruler of all men-a love which kings need above all other men, and seek in vain among their subjects.

The Psalms in fact may be considered as a series of autobiographical poems, in which the most momentous events of David's life are recorded. No man's life could be more varied than that life. A keeper of a few sheep in the wilderness; then suddenly taken from a task of obscurity to be the darling hero of his nation; then made the son-in-law of Saul; then the leader of a political party, persecuted by his sovereign; then the successor to his throne; then established there with greater security than fell to the lot of any other king; then driven from it by his own son; then brought back by the unanimous voice of the people, whose hearts he bowed as that of one man. What varied experience! What vast temptations! How fragmentary and disconnected this life appears, when viewed merely by the light of external occurrences! How striking the contrast to this aspect when compared with that life as viewed in the Psalms! There, with all its changes of joy and sorrow, of triumph and defeat, of humiliation and glory, a substantial unity lies beneath it, binding all these apparently heterogeneous elements into one grand, harmonious whole.

Putting aside for the present the religious faith and loyalty so conspicuous in all David's character, one great constitutive element of that unity is to be found in his shepherd life. He is the only King of Israel whose early training had

been in the fields and the wilderness; not in the boisterous occupation of a huntsman or a herdsman, but in the more simple, meditative calling of a keeper of sheep. That is not precisely the quarter in which men look for kings, or from which they fetch their champions to fight against the Goliaths of this world. And though the occupation of David demanded the exercise of patience, courage, and forbearance; though there were wolves and robbers and lions from whom he must protect his flock; yet doubtless his brothers expressed the popular feeling as well as their own when they despised him as a simple uncouth rustic, when they rebuked him in those noted words expressive of their contempt for David and his calling: Why camest thou down hither, and with whom hast thou left those few sheep in the wilderness?'

Now it is this life with a few sheep in the wilderness that forms the basis and substantial unity of David's life and character. It never forsakes him; it is never forgotten. It continues as a golden thread throughout the various chequered scenes of his existence, from his boyhood to his grave. I do not say that it was essential to the development of his poetical character, for poets have been bred and brought up in cities; but it certainly was essential to that poetry of which David is the author. The frankness, the freshness the tenderness of his heart, the strong contrast afforded by David in these and other respects, not only to Oriental despots, but to Saul and his successors, plainly indicate that the shepherd life of David and the virtues developed by it are intimately linked together. Often in the weariness of rule and amidst the cares of royalty he must have reverted to those calm pleasures of his pastoral days-to the aloes by the river side, to the broad rock in the hot and thirsty land, to the valleys and green pastures, to the cedars of Libanus, to the fir-tree and the dwelling of the stork; to the

handful of corn on the top of the mountains, to the pastures clothed with flocks, to the trumpet song of one deep calling unto another. Often must the remembrance of these sights and sounds have rushed into his soul with all the perfume of pure and holy joys, not the less potent and enduring because they were fraught with remembrances of early boyhood; when, with the deep reverence of that age still upon him, this earth was full of wonders, and he walked with God as a friend. With the gladness that thus rushed through his heart came mingled visions of the Almighty. And if a pure, happy, and even poetical childhood be needful to the formation of true greatness of character, of all that is truly heroical, we may be sure that to David his days with his father's sheep in the wilderness were not the least valuable or least important. Thus the pure and ennobling delights of Nature grew with his growth and entwined themselves with the fibres of his being. Nor was Nature to David, as to many poets, a mere vision of delight—no more; nor was it, as to others, a dark enigma of metaphysical conceits to delude and betray; still less, as to his son Solomon, a subject for scientific speculation. Nature did not give back to him, as to others, the mere reflex of his own thoughts and imaginations, only tenfold more dark and portentous; but Nature was to David the mirror of God. He saw in her, not, as men do now, a wonderful order, an overruling Providence, a moral government of the world, but the marks and indications, the very voice of a personal God, revealing Himself to man, speaking to him in a language of love which could not be mistaken. Nature was the robe in which God apparelled Himself, and drew near to His creatures: His voice breaketh the cedar-trees; His voice shaketh the wilderness. The heavens declare His glory; the firmament showeth His handiwork. He stilleth the raging of the sea, the noise of its waves, and the madness of the people. He sitteth in the

heavens over all from the beginning; lo! He doth send out His voice, yea, and that a mighty voice.'

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Whilst other men, therefore, seek friends among their fellows to whom they may unbosom their joys or communicate their sorrows, David turned to God-turned to Him as a warm, present, personal friend, in all the occurrences of life. His language is so much governed by this feeling of Divine endearance, that it might be considered as too familiar, and even unorthodox, had not the present generation broken down all the strong meaning of His words into the devotional dust of vague generalities: Go not far from me, O God; my God, haste Thee to help me.' Will the Lord absent Himself for ever, and will He be no more entreated?' Among the gods there is none like unto Thee, O Lord; there is not one that can do as Thou doest.' And still more strongly than all: Hold not Thy tongue, O God of my praise; for the mouth of the ungodly is opened upon me.' In these (and how many more passages might be quoted!) God is presented in a light which must have seemed passing strange and familiar to David's contemporaries, as it would be to many at this day-passing strange, as compared with the general scope of prophetic vision revealed in the Old Testament, where God is made known in thunders and lightnings, as an avenger of evil, rather than in this endearing light, in which He presents Himself to the heart of David. What human love can express itself in terms more passionate and real than those employed by David? Thou, O Lord God, art the thing that I long for; Thou art my hope, even from my youth.' 'Cast me not away in the timeof age; forsake me not when my strength faileth me.' Whom have I in heaven but Thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison of Thee.' 'My flesh and my heart faileth; but God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever.' 'O God, Thou art my God, early will