PSALM CII.

THE DIVINE MEMORIAL.

No finer tribute could be paid to a good man's devotion than the reassuring message addressed to Cornelius, the Roman centurion, that his spiritual attitude in prayer, and its practical result in almsgiving, had come up before Jehovah as a sweet-smelling savour, and been accepted at the Divine footstool as the devout soldier's "memorial " (Acts X. 4). Nevertheless, the thought of the present psalm is deeper. The Psalmist is thinking, not so much of the outstanding characteristics of a man, as of the revealed will and character of Jehovah, Israel's God. He has His " memorial," not less than the most devoted of His worshippers; and both in motive and actual realisation, that memorial is charged with the deepest interest and instruction for all. Hence while using the phraseology of Lam. v. 19, the Psalmist introduces a change which is a sufficient indication of his standpoint. Instead of the term "throne," he substitutes "memorial" in verse 12, and exclaims —

"But Thou, Jehovah, sittest enthroned for ever.

And Thy memorial unto all generations."

The verse, as thus adapted, may be carried as a lamp throughout the entire psalm, until each thought and phrase is illumined by the brilliance of its light

1. The Discipline of the Individual.

This is the prevailing note in verses 1-11, though some of the expressions may be equally well referred to the discipline of the exilic Church: especially the appalling figure in verse 10 —

"Thou hast taken me up, and cast me away'' —

i.e. caught me up as in a whirlwind and swept me away into this far-off land of exile, where I lie broken by the storm, a byword among the heathen! The metaphor, as thus explained, may be illustrated by Job xxx. 22, though in the latter passage the description of utter desolation is carried a step further —

"Thou liftest me up to the 'Wind . . .

And dissolvest me in the roar of the storm.''

No figure, indeed, could be too overwhelming to portray the hapless condition of Israel in that far-ofF land. She had verily been whirled away in the hurricane of God's righteous anger, and there, by the waters of Babylon, she had become the derision and execration of the stranger. So we read in verse 8 —

"Mine enemies reproach me all the day long.

They that are mad against me do curse by me."

And yet in these introductory verses there is a deeper truth than the thought of Israel as a church. There is the individualising of the national woes. There is the gathering of the Church's perplexities into the consciousness of the individual heart For even in exile the Church was made up of individual Israelites; and it is only as the individual member, in any age, identifies himself with the Church, and is willing to espouse her cause and to bear her burdens, that the set time for remembering Zion can in any sense be accelerated or the promise of a new era be fulfilled. Hence, in the plaintive strains of these opening verses, it is the personal, rather than the national, consciousness that is struggling for expression. The Psalmist, as an individual Israelite, has made the Church's perplexities his own.

"I keep vigil: and am become

Like a solitary bird upon the housetop."

Indeed, the sense of his solitude and suffering is so profound, that he practically exhausts his store of imagery in trying to depict his lonely and hapless condition. Not only had he been cast into a fiery furnace (ver. 3) whose scorching flame had licked up his vital energy, reducing him to exhaustion and emaciation (4, 5); but he was left alone like solitude-loving birds which inhabit dark and desolate ruins (6, 7), where his only sustenance was ashes and tears (ver. 9), and where his days were running their swift course like the lengthening shadow on the sundial, while he himself could only be compared to the parched and withered grass (ver. 11).

It was a dark picture: and yet the deepest touch has still to be added. It was because of Jehovah's indignation and wrath (ver. 10). The bitterest drop in his cup was neither the sadness nor the solitude: it was the fact that he was conscious of being under the righteous displeasure of the Lord. This was a darkness that might be felt Well might he liken himself to the night-owl, uttering weird and mournful cries among the ruins, or to the solitary, nocturnal bird that sits upon the housetop awake, while every one in the house below is asleep; for he, alas, was also surrounded by ruins — the ruins of his shattered hopes — and as far as he could pierce the darkness of the night, there was only the blackness of despair settling irrevocably upon his spirit The lengthening shadow on the dial was only too prophetic of the end. His sun ere long would dip beneath the horizon, and he would be left alone with the stars.

Be it so. Even if the stars could only remind him of Jehovah's sleepless indignation, he might nevertheless find in that awe-inspiring conception the surprising promise of a better dawn. Jehovah's indignation was simply another form of Jehovah's faithfulness, and faithfulness in turn is only another name for covenant love. Only let the distressed soul gaze long enough at the stars that were thus guarding his sleepless nights; and he might yet learn the lesson which Jeremiah learned in the Parable of the Almond Branch (chap. i. 1 1- 1 2) — the lesson of Jehovah's unceasing watchfulness. The prophet might only gaze for a moment on the beautiful flowers of the almond tree; but when was there an instant in the history of Israel that the God of their fathers was not watching over His word to perform it? The Divine Watcher of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps. And even if the performance of that word meant, and could only mean, the punishment of all ungodliness, what then?

"Did I meet no trials here,

     No chastising by the way,

Might I not with reason fear

     I should be a castaway?

 

Others may escape the rod,

     Sunk in earthly vain delight;

But the true-born child of God,

     Must not, would not, if he might."

In fine, the very depth of the Psalmist's trial was a part of the Lord's memorial. It was chastisement, the proof of His love.

2. The Restoration of the Church.

"Thou shalt arise, and have mercy upon Zion:

For the time to favour her, yea, the set time is come."

This also was a part of the Divine memorial; and it was well for the Psalmist that he had identified himself with the Church's perplexities, for in so doing he was now to discover that he had taken the one step necessary for entering into the fulness of the Church's reward. The anguish of despair was now to be supplanted by the rapture of a Divine expectancy. In other words, the cause of a stricken Zion is never espoused in vain. She always gives more than she gets.

With the thought of chastisement, for instance, the sufferer has been led to raise his eyes to heaven, and immediately everything is altered. The wail of penitence is phanged into a song of rapturous praise. For enthroned on the skyline of the everlasting hills, he beholds a vision, peerless and soul-subduing in its sublimity, concerning which he might have said, in the language of £• B. Browning—

"There sittest Thou, the satisfying One,

With blood for sins, and holy perfectings

For all requirements — while the archangel, raising

Toward Thy face his full ecstatic gazing,

Forgets the rush and rapture of his wings!"

He beholds Jehovah, the Ruler of heaven and earth and the Disposer of human destiny, and realises in the light of that Divine unveiling, not simply that all is well with the world, but in a special sense that all must be well with the Church. For with a flash of spiritual insight he is able to read the two things together — Jehovah's sovereignty over all, and that which was the basal fact in Israel's history, the covenant relationship inaugurated at Sinai and solemnly ratified by blood. This is the reason why the thought of a " throne " instinctively passed over into the conception of a "memorial," and that the language of verse 12 was deliberately coined to express the illuminating change. The Psalmist was listening to the never-to-be-forgotten teaching of Ex. iii. 15, " This is my name for ever, and this is my memorial unto all generations. . .  Jehovah, the God of your fathers, hath sent me unto you."

Everything was possible in the light of that Divine truth. It was even possible that God's set time to remember Zion had at last arrived. God's faithfulness to the covenant was an essential element in that hope. He was not unmindful of His covenant promise; and, therefore, the Hebrew captives could say —

"Thou shalt arise, and have mercy upon Zion:

 . . . Yea, the set time is come."

The main proof that Jehovah was about to comfort Jerusalem was lying nearer the hearts of the weeping captives than they deemed. The Psalmist found it in the yearning love of the captives themselves. Even by the waters of Babylon they were thinking of Zion. They had affection for her ruins, and were moved with pity for her dust And it cannot be emphasised too strongly that when good men thus begin to lay to heart the weight of the Church's calamity, this is the unfailing spiritual token that Jehovah himself has already begun to work. The stirring of love and pity in the hearts of the exiles is a real presage of the dawn," like the keen morning air stirring the sleeping flowers before sunrise.'* Yes, even in exile, the captives were feeling the thrill of the homing instinct; and, therefore, they could say, like Dr. Matheson in reference to his own blindness, that while he was " overtaken by the night, he was yet confident of the morning."

"The wind grew cold, a change was in the sky,

And in deep silence did the dawn draw nigh."

And the new era, as thus anticipated, was full of promise for the Hebrew captives. By the use of perfect tenses they transport themselves into the future, and paint the story of their restoration as a fully realised fact.

"The Lord hath built up Zion,

He hath appeared in His glory,

He hath regarded the prayer of the destitute,

And hath not despised their prayer."

If the Israelites in Babylon were like condemned captives, languishing in prison, and doomed to perish in that exile land, unless Jehovah should speedily interpose in their favour; they nevertheless beheld with the eye of faith that the interposition had been effected, that Jehovah had intervened in their behalf, and that now from the vantage-ground of their own restoration the eagle-like wings of their faith must be ready for a wider and vaster flight The ingathering of Israel was but the prelude to the ingathering of the nations. All nations were to come and bless themselves in Abraham's seed. This, indeed, was the ultimate design of what they had learned to call the Lord's memorial; and, therefore, as the final stage in the working out of this fundamental conception, we have —

3. The Perfecting of the World.

"Si monumentum requiris, circumspice" — who has not read the well-known epitaph over the inner north doorway of St. Paul's? No other monument is needed. No other relic would suffice. The completed structure, in all its massive splendour, is the only worthy memorial of Sir Christopher Wren. And the teaching of the present psalm is somewhat similar. It would say, with our own Tennyson:—

"One God, one law, one element,

And one far-off Divine event,

To which the whole creation moves."

And when that august goal has been reached, and all "the peoples are gathered together to serve the Lord" (ver. 22), well may a celestial voice be heard, saying, " If you wish to see His memorial, look around." For when at the close of the world*s great drama, the morning stars sing together, as at the beginning, and all the sons of God shout for joy, a glorified humanity will lift up its eyes on the finished structure, and confess that in all its massive grandeur no other monument is required, that this is His memorial to all generations — Jehovah, the God of Israel, hath done all things well. But how is that august goal to be reached? Is it by frail human effort, by the laws and processes of external nature, or by the intervention and might of Jehovah? The concluding verses of this psalm give no uncertain answer. It is not by the exercise of frail human effort. Thrust back once more into the misery of his present, the Psalmist can only complain, as in verse 23 —

"My strength hath He weakened in the way;

And my days hath He shortened.''

Frail man! What is his life but the lengthening shadow on the sundial? Or the heavens and the earth I What measure of abiding trust can Israel repose upon them? Alas, they, too, shall perish and come to an end, as if smitten by the same fatal blight of mortality.

"Yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment;

As a vesture shalt Thou change them, and they shall be changed."

But in contrast with both, read verse 27. Turning away from man and nature alike, the Psalmist catches hold of God*s skirts and prays —

"But Thou art He; and Thy years shall have no end."

He falls back on the personality and immortality of Israel's God, and feels that in these he has the promise and pledge of his own. From of old, O Jehovah, Thou didst say as Thine age-long memorial, " I will be that I will be": and that is the undecaying hope of Thy people still. They can take refuge in the ever-widening sweep of Thy Divine purposes, and sum up all their confidence, as they now conclude this psalm, saying —

"The children of Thy servants shall continue.

And their seed shall be established before Thee."

This is sinking the individual not simply in the fortunes of the Church, but in the greatness and glory of the Church's Head: and as Jesus taught his disciples long after, this is the one approved method for finding and enjoying all. For when the individual, the Church, and the nations lift up their eyes amid the glories of the completed structure it will be to confess that the sovereignty and faithfulness of Israel's God have been, at last, supremely vindicated; and that now in the rapture of an abiding trust, each child of the kingdom may say—

"But Thou, Jehovah, sittest enthroned for ever;

And Thy memorial unto all generations."