Earth’s Vanities and Heaven’s Verities

Earth's Vanities and Heaven's Verities

(No. 2346)

A SERMON INTENDED FOR READING ON LORD'S DAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1894.

DELIVERED BY C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON, ON THURSDAY EVENING NOVEMBER
7, 1889.

"Surely every man walks in a vain show: surely they are disquieted in
vain: he heaps up riches and knows not who shall gather them. And now,
Lord, what wait I for? My hope is in You. Deliver me from all my
transgressions: make me not the reproach of the foolish." Psalm 39:6-8.

These are solemn words. Sometimes we have a more joyful theme than
this, but I believe that, spiritually, as well as naturally, it is
better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting. A
meditation of a quiet kind, on things not as they are in fiction, but
as they prove to be in fact, is always salutary. There is a great mass
of sorrow in the world and all of us meet with something, every now and
then, to calm our spirit and cool our blood. So, tonight, if we think a
little of the fleeting character of this world, and of the real world
where certainty, alone, is to be found–and if we school ourselves to
learn facts and realities, by the blessing of God's Spirit–we may go
away even more lastingly refreshed than if our hearts were made to leap
for joy by meditation upon some transporting theme.

I will have no further preface. There is too much in the text, itself,
to allow time for a lengthy introduction. Therefore, notice, first,
that David records his view of human life–"Surely every man walks in a
vain show: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heaps up riches and
knows not who shall gather them." Then, next, David expresses his own
emotions in contemplation of these things–"And now, Lord, what wait I
for? My hope is in You." And, then, in the third place, David offers an
appropriate and necessary prayer, for he cries, "Deliver me from all my
transgressions: make me not the reproach of the

foolish."

I. First, then, let us notice that in our text DAVID RECORDS HIS VIEW
OF HUMAN LIFE.

You will notice that he puts, "surely," twice over in this verse, and
with the, "verily," of the fifth verse, which has the same meaning, but
might have been translated, "surely," he has uttered the same word
three times, "surely, surely, surely," or, if you please, "verily,
verily, verily." He half reminds us of his greater Son, the Son of
David, whose speech was often emphasized with that sacred assuring
word, "Verily, verily, I say unto you." David here seems to tell us
that there is nothing sure except that nothing is sure. "Surely," he
says, "nothing on earth is sure. Verily there is not verity, or
happiness, anywhere here below." There is a land of verities. There is
a home of "surelies"–some of us are on the way there and already have
the earnest of our inheritance. But as for you who have your portion in
this life, you have vanity, not verity– change is written on
everything earthly.

Having thus given us the keynote of certainty–for the Psalmist did not
write haphazardly, but he wrote what he knew. He wrote what he had
experienced and he wrote under the Inspiration of the Spirit of God–we
should the more carefully look at what he has written. If it is so,
surely, let us be sure to know what it is.

And, first, he seems to me to speak of life as a walk. And of that he
says, "Surely every man walks in a vain show." Then he speaks of life
as a worry. And of that he says, "Surely they are disquieted in vain."
And then he speaks of life as a success, as men call it. And of that he
says, "He heaps up riches and knows not who shall gather them."

David first speaks of life as a walk. He seems to have had in his mind
the idea of a great procession–"Surely every man walks in a vain
show." If you choose to go to the Lord Mayor's show next Saturday, you
may see a vain show, and may know precisely what David meant. Such
things were more common in Oriental countries than they are with us,
but whether it is the Lord Mayor's show or any other, it is a picture
of what this mortal life is! The procession, if you see it, or if you
do not see it, but only read and hear of it, may remind you of what
life is–what you see of it is all show. There are

kings in the show, princes in the show and heroes of old time in the
show. But there are neither kings, nor princes, nor heroes there in
reality! It is all show and such is this mortal life to a large extent.

Among some classes of society, show is everything–they must "keep up
appearances." Just so and, all the world over, that is about all there
is–"appearances"–a vain show! If you want reality, you cannot see
it–only the unseen is real. If you want shadow, you can see it–"the
things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen
are eternal."

1 wish we could get a hold of that idea as a practical thing–that
everything we can see is shadow, but what we cannot see is the real
substance. When we talk about faith, men call us "visionary." Well,
well, you may call us that if you like, for we have a vision of a very
high order. But we beg to return the word to you in its ordinary
meaning, for if you make your treasure of what you can see and handle,
you are the visionaries–for this is but a vain show in which you
rejoice and that which you see with your eyes is but a vision–a dream
that vanishes when one awakens! Earthly life is only a show.

Oh, Friends, I wish we really thought this! We would not be so
hot-brained as we are if we said to ourselves, "These are only
shadows." We would not be so vexed and worried as we are if we often
said to ourselves, "These are shadows. I could not see them if they
were not. If they were real, they would not be perceptible to my
senses–they would only be perceptible by the higher faculty of faith."
"Surely every man walks in a vain show." It is a show and nothing more.

But it is a passing show, for David does not say, "Surely every man
sits down in a vain show and remains in the same place," but, "every
man walks in a vain show." It is with life as with a procession which
passes before your eyes. It comes– listen to the shouts of the people!
It is here in a few minutes. There are the people crowding the streets!
But presently it has vanished and is gone. Does not life strike you as
being just that? I remember, oh, I remember so many figures in the
procession! I have seemed to stand as at a window, though that, itself,
has been but seeming, for I also have been in the procession. I
remember the great hearty men of my boyhood, whom I used to hear
pray–they are now singing up yonder! Then, when I think of you, dear
Friends, I remember a long procession of saintly men and godly women
who have all passed before me and have gone into Glory. What a host of
friends we have in the unseen world, "gone over to the majority!" As we
get older, they really are the majority, and our friends on earth are
outnumbered by our friends in Heaven! Some of you will fondly remember
dear ones who have passed away in the procession, but please remember
that you, also, are in the procession. Though they seem to have passed
before you, you have been passing along with them and you may reach the
vanishing point before long! And then there will be this talk among the
brotherhood you love, "he, too, has gone," or, "she has fallen asleep,"
for we are all walking as in a procession and passing away to the land
of substance and reality!

A show which is passing away is, in itself, if it is measured by this
mortal life, vain–"a vain show." To a man who has no hope hereafter,
it is all, "vanity of vanities; all is vanity." Within the narrow
compass of this poor globe there is nothing that is worth a man's
opening his mouth to ask for or to receive. Take the broader, larger
circle of the heavens and there, within that boundless circumference,
there is something to be found that is worth finding! Dwell in God and
you have something substantial! Dwell out of God and you make "much ado
about nothing." Life is a vain show when it is lived apart from God.

If you will only consider, for a minute, you will see that it is so.
Think of the armies of Babylon and Assyria, the palaces their kings
built, the mighty cities that they built–where are they now? Think of
the Medes and Persians, with all their pomp and power–where are their
glories now? And Greece–her palaces and her temples are a desolation.
Listen to the tramp of Roman armies up the Via Sacra–listen to the
acclamations of the people as they climb the very chimney-tops to see
the conquerors come home–where have they all gone? Fame did but blow
one blast upon her bronze trumpet and the echoes sounded, for a while,
and then there was silence. "Surely every man walks in a vain show."
Get the idea of a procession and you have caught the thought which
David would convey to you. Such, too often, is the whole of a man's
life– just the passing of a pageant–and nothing more.

The Psalmist then speaks of life as a worry, and he says, "Surely they
are disquieted." So they are. How few people are so free from the
spirit of the things of this world as to pass through this life
quietly? If we could once live in the eternities, we would be calm,
still and restful. But we live by the moment and the day and we are all
on the worry, the fidget, the fret, the fume and we know no real rest.
The work of this world, if carried on only as for this world, is well
described here– "Surely they are disquieted in vain." See how they
begin life, eager for its joys, its honors, its wealth. Note how they
plod, toil and labor. How much of brain-work is done by the light of
the midnight oil! Many a man agitates his mind and wearies his spirit
till his life is lost in finding a livelihood. They are trying to live
and lo, life is gone! And they wake up and

wonder how it is that they have let it go and have not really lived at
all. Some are all for getting, never for enjoying in any measure. When
such men get wealth, it is not sufficient for them. When they get twice
that, they are still eager for more and live on in a perpetual worry.

Then one has more than another and envy comes in–of all passions, one
of the most wearing–and when a man has, at last, all he thought he
would ever need, then he is afraid of losing it! Now he is anxious
about this and worried about that, and fretting about the other.
Believe me, there are no people who take the fret of life so much as
those who ought to have sense enough not to–"having food and raiment"
they are not "therewith content"–and having taken all that is good for
them to carry, they are like a traveler who, having one good
substantial staff to help him in his walking, must carry a bundle of
sticks with him, and so loads himself unnecessarily. Is it not so?

Did you ever stand in the Bourse at Paris, or did you ever, by any
chance, hear the noise of our own Stock Exchange? The latter place is
more difficult to see than the former, but when I have stood upstairs
in the Bourse in Paris, and have looked down upon the raving multitude
below, I have wondered whether if bedlam had been emptied out, there
would be more noise, more uproar, more calling out, more pushing and
rushing, first this way, and then that way! I could not understand what
they were doing! Perhaps that made the scene appear the more maddening.
Every man seemed all alive and as though he would eat up every other
man in the place!

And I believe that the Bourse is but a picture of mercantile life
everywhere–competition, competition, everybody buying cheaply and
grinding down everybody that works, and then complaining that, in his
turn, he is ground, too–his own measure being measured back to him! Ah
me, what a life it is! Had David penned this Psalm, today, he might
have written in capital letters, "SURELY THEY ARE DISQUIETED IN VAIN!"
Oh, for a little quiet! Oh, for time to think! Oh, for opportunities to
get near to God and unload all your thoughts and all your cares before
Him–and then to go away feeling patience mingled with joy, and joy
with the expectation of unutterable bliss, helping us to really live,
instead of being disquieted in vain!

Well, next, David passes on to speak of life as a success, and he
mentions those who were supposed to have been successful in life,
though, mark you, it is not success in life, after all, to accumulate
riches. When you read in The Illustrated London News that somebody
died, "worth" such and such, do not believe it! A man is not worth what
he has when he dies! A man may not be worth two-pence–although he may
possess a million, he, himself, is worth nothing–poor grabber of
everything! But you say such and such a man died and left £200,000.
Yes, there are several of us who, when we die, will leave much more
than that. I shall leave all the world behind me and there are many
others here who will do the same– and leave all the millions that
there are, all the estates that ever were and all the treasures of the
world! And I suppose that every one of us, when he dies, will leave
everything behind him, for shrouds have no pockets and men carry
nothing with them into their graves.

But even when a man is successful in heaping up riches, see how David
describes it–"He heaps up riches." That is all–he does not partake of
them. He does not use them, he merely heaps them up. He accumulates
without enjoyment. When a man has food and raiment, and has what he
needs for comfort, all that he has beyond, if counted by thousands,
might as well be a thousand pins as a thousand pounds, so far as any
good it is to him! But the bigger heap will not give more comfort, for
there is the additional anxiety of taking care of it. When riches are
consecrated to God's Glory, they assume quite another character, but I
am now talking about this world and the mere possession of its
treasures. David calls it the heaping up of riches and that is all that
it is, getting a big heap, like children do at the seaside–one gets a
bigger heap of sand than another has, but what is the good of that?

The Psalmist also says that when the man heaps up riches, he, "knows
not who shall gather them." He hoards without security. This is
probably an allusion to the husbandman who has cut down his corn and
put the sheaves together. And then at night, before he can gather them
into the garner, much less before he can thresh out the grain and grind
it, some marauder comes and runs off with it all. The miser heaps up
his gold, but he does not know who may gather it. Have we not seen the
fruit of many years toil vanish in an hour? The reaping of a lifetime
has disappeared by a panic in a moment.

"He heaps up riches and knows not who shall gather them." He leaves his
wealth without pleasure. The Psalmist alludes to the fact that men
cannot tell what will become of their possessions when they die. I am
sure that there is many a man who would turn in his grave if he knew
what was being done with his hard-earned wealth! To live wholly to
enrich somebody about whose character you know so little seems a poor
objective in life. And yet it is the only objective which

many are pursuing. Without chick or child, it may be, still men will go
on scraping together riches for some unknown heir who, if they knew
him, would be, perhaps, beneath their contempt–yet they go on working
like slaves for one who will never be grateful to them when they are
dead!

Now does not the whole of this put together make up a very sorry
picture? Yet it is true of the worldling, of the man who has no hope
hereafter–of the man who has never projected his soul, by Grace, into
the spiritual and the heavenly realm!

II. And now, glad to get away from this part of our subject, we notice
how DAVID EXPRESSES HIS OWN EMOTIONS IN CONTEMPLATION OF THESE THINGS.

And first, he has come to a decision. Having turned these matters over,
he begins the expression of his own feelings, thus, "And now, Lord." I
like that mode of speech. It is a great thing to come to God with a,
"now." You know how the Lord comes to us. He says, "Come now, and let
us reason together, says the Lord." I like a man, sometimes, to come
close up to God and sit down, and seem to say, "Now, Lord, You see that
I have realized the vanity of this world. I may well let it all go, for
it melts away in my hands–it is a mere shadow which is not worth
living for–and I have to live in eternity with You. I have to live in
Heaven or in Hell. O my God, bring me to my bearings! Bring me close up
to You and let us reason together, and have the question out. And now,
Lord." Every moment is solemn if we would but make it so, but there are
certain turning points in life when a man has had his eyes opened to
see the fallacy of his former pursuits, when, stopping where the roads
meet, he looks up to the signpost and says, "And now, Lord, guide me.
Help me to take the right turn, to avoid the shadow and to seek after
that which is substantial. Now, Lord."

I also like this expression of David's emotions because he consults
with God. "Every man walks in a vain show, but," he says, "and now,
Lord, there is no vanity with You, no deception, no delusion with You,
behold, I turn away from this mirage, which just now deluded me, to
You, my God, the Rock of my salvation, and I look to You. And now,
Lord." I would to God that somebody here would say, "I have to spend
eternity somewhere. I will not waste this present time and live as if
this world were all, but I will lift up my prayer, tonight, and say,
Now, Lord. Now that I have passed my childhood and am a young man. Now
that I have reached my 21st birthday. Now that I am 30, forty,
fifty–now that my hair is turning gray it is time for me to be wise if
ever. Now, Lord." And if I am so unhappy as to have a person here who
has advanced to the very end of his lease and has become 70 and yet is
still living for a world that is slipping away from him, I would to God
that the Holy Spirit would make him say, tonight, "And now, Lord. Now I
seek You, now I turn to You."

You can see at once that David feels that he is out ofplace, for he
says, "Lord, what wait I for?" He says, "What wait I for? I can see
what these fools are waiting for–they are waiting to take their place
in the show. They put on their masquerading garments and go out there
to take part in the pageant. But I will not go there. I do not belong
to any of the classes that make up that show. What wait I for, then? I
see the men worried in vain, but, Lord, I have learned to trust in You.
Then, what wait I for? And, O my God, I see how others clutch the
treasure which they cannot keep, which is not worth the having, for
they are soon to leave it, or it quickly leaves them. By Your Grace I
am not after that kind of thing. Now, Lord, what wait I for?" He is
like a fish out of water, he is a man out of his native country,
evidently a stranger and an exile, who is turning to his God. He is a
fellow-stranger with his God and he says to Him, "Now, Lord, what wait
I for?"–a question only God, Himself, can fully answer!

You observe, also, that he has his eye on the future. He is a man who
is waiting for something. Faith is a high virtue. And waiting upon God
is a flower that grows out of it. "What wait I for? I have not found it
yet. I am waiting for it, for here we have no continuing city, but we
seek one to come." Our treasure is not here–it is away there upon the
eternal hills, where Christ sits at the right hand of God! The man
described in our text is a waiting man whose chief delight is now in a
world that is to come.

And you observe, lastly, on this point, that he is a man whose hope is
in God. "My hope is in You." I have no earthly expectations, but I say,
"My Soul, wait you only upon God, for my expectation is from Him."
"Hopes of ever finding anything here which can fill me, or content me,
I have long ago abandoned. And now, Lord, my hope is in You. It is only
You, my God, that I desire, and if I get You, if I am filled with You,
if You abide in me, if You transform me into Your image. If You deign
to use me for Your Glory. If You will take me Home to dwell with You
where Jesus is, this is what I wait for, and I wait for nothing else."
We are expectant of good things to come. We are not inhabitants of this
country, we are citizens of the New Jerusalem which is above! We are
only shipwrecked, here, for a while, and exiled from Home until the
boat

shall come to ferry us across the stream to the land where our true
possessions lie and where our best Beloved is! Life, light, love and
everything to us is He who has gone as our Forerunner to the place
which He has prepared for them that love

Him.

III. Now I close by noticing that DAVID OFFERS AN APPROPRIATE AND
NECESSARY PRAYER. "Deliver me from all my transgressions: make me not
the reproach of the foolish." After all, we are here, Brothers and
Sisters. We do not know how long we may have to stay here and there are
things which we need while we are here. Well, what are they? Send in
your requests! What do you need?

David puts down what he needs. "He needs, first, to be delivered from
trouble," says somebody. No, he does not say anything about that. He
prays, "Deliver me from all my transgressions." "He needs to be
delivered from that headache, that heartache, that pain in the limbs,
that depression of spirit." Nothing of the sort! The prayer of this
godly man is, "Deliver me from all my transgressions."

That is, first, he prayed for deliverance from sins committed. "Lord,
put all my sin away, so that I may be clean every whit from every sin
that I have ever committed." Can that be? Oh, yes, it is so with many
of us! We are washed in the blood of the lamb and that washing is
perfect washing–it leaves no stain behind it! If you believes in the
Lord Jesus Christ, He has taken your sin upon Himself–He has put your
sin away by the great blood shedding! It is not on you any longer. It
has even ceased to be, according to that wonderful text, "The iniquity
of Israel shall be sought for and there shall be none; and the sins of
Judah, and they shall not be found." What a blessed thing it is to live
with no cloud, whatever, between your soul and your God–to know that
every sin is blotted out by the Atonement of Christ and that your
heavenly Father looks upon you with delight and favor–even as a child
of God and does not chide you! O happy, happy, happy man who walks in
the Light of God, as God is in the Light, and so has fellowship with
God while the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanses him from all
sin! David's first prayer is for deliverance from sins committed. If
you get it answered in your case, you will not walk in any vain show
and you will not be worried at all, much less, "disquieted in vain."

Next, he prays to be delivered from the assaults of sin. Who is there,
here, that is not tempted? If anyone says, "I am above temptation, or
beyond temptation," well, that person must have gone far in pride and
carnal security–he is eaten up with the leprosy of self-deceit! We are
all tempted and every day we need to pray, "Lead us not into
temptation, but deliver us from the Evil One." "Deliver me from all my
transgressions. Lord, do not let me sin; let me not in heart, or
thought, or word, or deed, offend You." Oh, if we could but be perfect,
so that we could never manifest an ugly temper, never speak a wry word,
never have an evil thought! Oh, if we could but be perfect! Ah, Sirs,
this is the riches we covet, to be perfectly free from every tendency
to sin! If we could but get to that, then we should have got to Heaven,
for that is Heaven–to be perfectly delivered from sin! Well, well, we
shall have that perfection! God will give it to us, but let us make
this the subject of our daily prayer, "Deliver me from all my
transgressions."

David also prayed for deliverance from peculiarly dangerous sins. Allow
me to put an emphasis on one little word in my text, "Deliver me from
all my transgressions." I am afraid that we all have some special sin
that is our sin more than it is anybody else's–some tendency,
hereditary–perhaps some liability to a particular form of sin. I
believe that if some Brothers and Sisters were ever tempted to
hilarity, they would not transgress in that direction, for they were
born in November, and they have a fog in their very soul! There are
some others, who, if they were tempted to great depression, would not
transgress in that way, for they have sunlight in their souls and their
eyes always twinkle with a natural merriment! Some men are not tempted
to be misers–it would be a mercy if they were, for they are such
dreadful spendthrifts! Some men are never tempted to be lavish–I half
wish that the devil or someone better would tempt them, that way, for
they are so mean and it is so hard to get even a three penny piece from
them to help the best of causes! Satan is pretty well acquainted with
us–he sees the joints in our harness, he knows to what sins we are
specially inclined–and if it is so in sinners, it is also so in
saints! We all have need to pray, "Deliver me from all my
transgressions, especially from the sins to which I am most liable.
Lord, save me from them." I invite you, dear Friends, to pray this
prayer of David.

And then, also pray the other–"Make me not the reproach of the
foolish. If I am to be reproached, let me be reproached by wise men.
Make me not the reproach of the foolish."

Thus, David prayed for deliverance from deserved dishonor. Oh, may God
grant that none of you, whom He has called to a higher and better life,
and made to long for Glory and eternity, may ever make the enemy to
blaspheme, or give them real reason for despising you! God keep us from
falling! O Christian men, women, Christ has been more wounded by His
friends

than by His foes! We do not mind what the infidel has to say. At least
we would not mind it if we did not, at times, help him to say sad
things by our inconsistency. We feel the point of the arrow and the
smart of the wound is acute, but far keener is it to feel that our own
wrong-doing feathered the arrow which the enemy shot from his bow! God
keep us from that evil! May we never lend a feather from our wings with
which to furnish an arrow against Christ or His cause!

David also prayed to be preserved from undeserved defamation. "Make me
not the reproach of the foolish." If you live the life of an angel,
foolish persons will soon spread an evil story against you. Unless the
Lord holds their tongues, they will not hold them. Pray, then, that you
may be preserved from slander. If it comes, may it be real slander,
with no truth in it, but may God preserve you even from that, for it is
a cruel thing and cuts to the quick!

Again, David prayed for deliverance from spiritual disappointment. And
may we also be preserved from all disappointments concerning our trust
in God! If we trusted in God and He did not deliver us, we would be,
indeed, the reproach of the foolish. We come out boldly for the Truth
of God and stand alone–and yet that Truth never vindicates us! Why,
then, we shall be the reproach of the foolish! We pray that we may not
be put to shame and that God's bare arm may defend His own cause and we
believe it will be so.

And last of all, in his prayer, "Make me not the reproach of the
foolish," David pleads for deliverance from dreadful taunts at the
last. May I never be lost and then forever have to bear this reproach!
You know, the thought has sometimes come to me that if I am not true,
and if at the Last Great Day the Master should say, "I never knew you,
depart, you cursed" how will those who have to depart with me turn
round, and say, "And you, and you? You talked to us! You preached to
us! And yet you, yourself, are here?" This would be to suffer shame as
did the king of Babylon when he went down to the Pit and the kings whom
he had slain began to say to him, "Have you become like one of us?" How
they gloried over their conqueror, himself, shut up in Hell, conquered
by the Almighty God! Professors, I beseech you to pray this prayer,
tonight, "Make me not the reproach of the foolish." Be sincere, true
men, lest on the last day you not only have the wrath of God to bear,
but the shame and the everlasting contempt which your fellow sinners
will heap upon you while you lie there, after all your profession, a
castaway!

The Lord grant His blessing to those who are to be baptized tonight!
May they be faithful to the end and may others of us, who have
confessed Christ years ago, be kept from sin! May we all trust Christ
tonight! If we never trusted Jesus before, let us begin at once, each
one saying, "Now, Lord, what wait I for? My hope is in You." May we all
come to Jesus and find eternal life in Him! Amen, and amen.

EXPOSITION BY C. H. SPURGEON: PSALM39

To the chief Musician, even to Jeduthun, A Psalm of David.

David dedicated some Psalms to Asaph and one or two to Jeduthun. Some
of this chief musician's family appear to have remained singers as late
as the time of Nehemiah. It is a great honor to be a singer in the
House of God. Ungodly men have no right to lead the Psalmody–only
redeemed lives can sing aright the song of redemption. I reckon that it
is almost as wrong to have an unconverted person to lead the singing as
it would be to have an unconverted man to preach the Gospel. David was
in a great heat of spirit, and much tried, when he wrote this Psalm.
There is little that is cheerful in it, yet there is much that may
cheer us. Sometimes, when we are unusually thoughtful, we are more
likely to be blessed than at other times. Specific gravity is better
than specific levity–there are some who have a great deal of the
latter quality.

Verse 1. I said. "I thought it, and at last I said it. I resolved. I
determined upon it and I registered the vow."

1. I will take heed to my ways. Men never go right by accident–he who
is heedless is graceless. A holy life is a life that comes of taking
heed.

1. That I sin not with my tongue. He who keeps his tongue can keep all
the rest of his body. The tongue is the helm of the ship and if that is
well managed, the ship will be steered aright. How many sins of the
tongue there are–proud words, false words, trifling words, unclean
words! I cannot mention the whole list. The tongue is the best thing in
the world or the worst thing, according to how it is used.

1. I will keep my mouth with a bridle, while the wicked is before me.
"I may feel free when I am with God's people. Then I may wear my heart
upon my sleeve, for there are no claws to scratch at it. But when I am
with the wicked, I must not cast my pearls before swine. I must be
careful what I say, for they will be sure to misunderstand and
misrepresent me."

2. I was dumb with silence. Ah, me! How often we do wrong even when we
try to do right! He tried not to sin with his tongue, so he was silent,
but silence, itself, may be a sin of the tongue! God forgive our idle
silence and silence our idle words! I do not think we often sin this
way, but silence may sometimes be more wicked than speech even though
at other times, speech is silver and silence is golden. If silence is
sometimes better than speech, it may also be worse. So poor David, like
a pendulum, swings first, this way, and then the other way. Yet he went
too far in the silent direction.

2. I held my peace, even from good. Which he should not have done. A
dumb sorrow is a heavy sorrow.

2. And my sorrow was stirred. Or "troubled." Water, while it is quiet,
may look clear, the sediment lies still at the bottom. But if you stir
it, you see all there is in it. So is it with sorrow–when it is
stirred, you find its bitterness.

3. My heart was hot within me. The fire was kept in his heart–it was
not allowed space to break forth–so his heart was hot as an oven.

3. While I was musing, the fire burned. He grew so hot with grief that
he was compelled to speak.

3. Then spoke I with my tongue. I am not sure that he did not sin then.
We sin if we are silent and we sin if we speak, for we are such sinful
creatures. It would have been better, perhaps, if David had said,
"Lord, help me to take heed to my ways and rule, You, over my tongue,"
for as it was, you see, he could not manage his tongue. He was either
too fast or too slow. However, this time he spoke well, for he spoke to
God. More talk to God and less chat to men–and we would be wiser and
better!

4. LORD, make me to know my end. It is greatly wise for us to be
familiar with our last hours. There is much to be discovered in the
shroud, the mattock and the spade.

4. And the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I
am. A bubble is more substantial than I am–a little handful of dust,
easily blown in the wind–rather an appearance than a reality! Ah, me,
little do we know, any of us, how frail we are!

5. Behold You have made my days as an handbreadth. How short is our
life! It is just a span and no more,

5. And my age is as nothing before You. What multitudes of generations
of men have come and gone! An angel might have cried, long before, "Man
is but a thing of yesterday compared with the eternal God." God created
the first star that twinkled out of the primeval darkness. "The
everlasting hills," as we call them, are but infants of a day compared
to Him. Therefore, man may truly say, "My age is as nothing before
You."

5. Verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Selah. The
best man is only man at the best and when he is at his best, he is
nothing but vanity. It is strange that he should get vain of his best
state, when his best is only vanity!

6. Surely every man walks in a vain show. He is a shadow walking among
shadows. 6. Surely they are disquieted in vain. They fret and fume
about nothing.

6. He heaps up riches and knows not who shall gather them. He is busy
with a rake, but another will be busy with a fork. What the miser
gathers the spendthrift scatters.

7. And now, Lord, what wait I for. "Do I wait to gather riches for
another to squander? Do I wait to worry myself? Do I wait here to walk
as a vanity in the midst of vanities? No, Lord, I am waiting for
something better than that!"

7. My hope is in You. Here the Psalmist steps off the sand and puts his
foot on the Rock. Happy is the man who can say to the Lord, "My hope is
in You."

8. Deliver me from all my transgressions. When he gets near to God, he
sees himself to be a sinner.

8, 9. Make me not the reproach of the foolish. I was dumb, I opened not
my mouth because You did it. That is fine silence when a man will not
complain because his affliction comes from the hand of God! There is
something better, even, than that–when a man breaks the silence and
begins to praise God under the rod! A mute Christian smarting under the
rod is a wonder of Grace, but a singing Christian under a cutting
stroke is a still greater miracle of mercy! Such ought all Christians
to be.

10. Remove Your stroke away from me: I am consumed by the blow of Your
hand. When God smites, He never plays at chastisement and there are
times when His blows are very heavy, and then the smitten one cries
out, "Remove Your stroke away from me. I am consumed by the blow of
Your hand."

11. When with rebukes You correct man for iniquity, You make his beauty
to consume away like a moth. Stout, he is reduced to a shadow. Comely
and beautiful, he is wrinkled and looks like a skeleton. Joyful and
blithe, he ends his day in mourning. Ah, dear Friends, we who have joy,
calm and peace ought to be very grateful! Praise God while you can, for
it may be that a dark night will follow the bright day. Oh, for Grace
to praise God even then! That is the best of music that comes from
God's nightingales! Music by night is music, indeed. But when God
corrects men, how soon He takes them down!

11, 12. Surely every man is vanity. Selah. Hear my prayer, O LORD. "If
I cannot do anything else, I can pray, and I will pray." That is the
best relief that mourners have–"Hear my prayer, O Lord."

12. And give ear unto my cry; hold not Your peace at my tears. "Do not
see me weeping and yet refuse me comfort and relief. Do not, I pray
You, hear my cry, and yet turn Your back upon me."

12. For I am a stranger with You. Notice, not a stranger to You, but,
"a stranger with You. You are a stranger in Your own world and I, also,
am a stranger here." Men will not entertain the King, for they know Him
not, therefore–

"'Tis no surprising thing, That we should be unknown: The Jewish world
knew not their King God's everlasting Son."

"I am a stranger with You." There is a sweet familiarity about this
expression, as if the Psalmist said, "Lord, I am not at home. I am a
stranger here and You, too, are a stranger. Men will not acknowledge
You. Therefore, Lord, sympathize with me. Hold not Your peace at my
tears, for I am a stranger with You."

12. And a sojourner, as all my fathers were. "You are my Host. I am
Your guest. You entertain me. Lord, look at my tears! When the good man
entertains a stranger, he is kind–he pours oil and wine into his
wounds. Lord, do so with me! You are the Good Samaritan and I am a
stranger with You–a sojourner, a temporary guest with You in this
world–as all my fathers were."

13. O spare me, that I may recover strength, before I go hence, and be
no more. There is much sweet comfort, here, though the Psalm reads like
a dirge, rather than a hymn. God give us, if we are obliged to sing
such words as these, to sing them with a full belief that the Lord will
hear us, will bless our trials to us and make them work our lasting
good!