^ We call it the law of God. It is so in the sense in which it is your law and mine. It is greater than God's throne, nay. His throne rests upon it. He obeys it, rules by it, — else He might be Zeus, or Jupiter, the fickle, wayward, unrighteous tyrant of classic mythology, but not the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ and our Father. The law is inherent in its subject-matter, in the very nature of things, and omnipotence can no more set it aside than it can make two and two five, or a circle equal to the polygon that incloses it. A Zeus might ignore the law; but though he held in his grasp all created beings and things, he could not make the wrong right, or the right wrong.^
3. The Psalmist is first attracted by the external glory. He opens his eyes upon the world of Nature, and beholds it with a gaze of childlike joy. To him it is, at a first glance, the personifi- cation of gladness. All things are messengers of the Divine glory. The heavens are telling the glory of the Lord ; day communicates the message to day, and night to night. The sun is like a bride-
^ H. Scott Holland. * A. P. Peabody, King's Chapel Sermons, 95.
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groom coming out of his chamber, and rejoicing as a strong man rejoices to run his course. The message of joy is widespread and cathohc, presenting a striking contrast to the limited scope of Judaism; its voice has gone forth unto all the earth, and its words unto the end of the world. And yet, with all its catholicity and with all its widespread power, the eloquence of Nature is a silent eloquence : " There is no speech, nor language ; their voice cannot be heard." The aspect of the outer universe, as it appears to the eye of the Psalmist, is that of an all-pervading, joyous, yet silently working power, uniting the lives of men in a common brotherhood ; and, as we read his opening expressions of enthusiasm, we are fully prepared to find the keynote of his strain prolonged through the entire meditation.
But suddenly there is a hiatus in the song. The Singer seems to interrupt himself in the midst of his enthusiastic melody, as if a string of the harp were broken. At the very moment when he seems lost in the admiration of the world of Nature, he all at once breaks out into a strain which sounds like a revolt from the external : " The law of the Lord is perfect, restoring the soul ; the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. The precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart ; the command- ment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes. The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring for ever ; the judgements of the Lord are true and righteous altogether." Can we account for this seeming break in the harmony ? Can we explain the apparent abruptness in the transition of thought, and restore unity to the Psalmist's theme ? If we call in the aid of something more than the canons of criticism, if we fall back upon the standpoint of intellectual sympathy, we shall find no difficulty in seeing that the unity has never been broken. For is it not evident that the seeming abruptness of the transition is in reality the result of a close continuity of thought ? The Psalmist has been expatiating on the wonders of Nature ; he has been revelling in the declaration of God's visible glory and in the traces of His creative power. Yet in the very midst of his exultation he feels that his mind is not filled. This calm beautiful Nature, where is " no speech nor language," is too silent to satisfy his soul. He feels somehow that its voice is not for him, that its sympathy is not for him, that he is receiving no answer to the communings of his heart. In the
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momentary reaction he turns his eye inward, and there opens to his sight a new world — the world of Conscience. He finds himself in the presence of another glory of God, another manifestation of the Infinite. All at once there breaks upon his mind the con- viction that the second glory is strong just where the first glory seemed weak ; that the world of Conscience supplies to a human soul the very elements which it lacks in the world of Nature, and that in supplying these elements it becomes the other side of the Divine revelation, the second half of the twofold Majesty.
^ The day closed with heavy showers. The plants in my garden were beaten down before the pelting storm, and I saw one flower that I had admired for its beauty and loved for its fragrance exposed to the pitiless storm. The flower fell, shut up its petals, drooped its head, and I saw that all its glory was gone. " I must wait till next year," I said, " before I see that beautiful thing again." And the night passed, and morning came, and the sun shone again, and the morning brought strength to the flower. The light looked at it, and the flower looked at the light. There was contact and communion, and power passed into the flower. It held up its head, opened its petals, regained its glory, and seemed fairer than before. I wonder how it took place — this feeble thing coming into contact with the strong thing, and gaining strength !