The third Psalm, according to the superscription--and in this case there seems no cause to dispute it--was composed "when David fled from Absalom his son." It is a psalm of wonderful serenity and perfect trust. It begins with a touching reference to the multitude of the insurgents, and the rapidity with which they increased. Everything confirms the statement that "the conspiracy was strong, and that the people increased continually with Absalom." We seem to understand better why David fled from Jerusalem; even there the great bulk of the people were with the usurper. We see, too, how godless and unbelieving the conspirators were--"Many there be which say of my soul, There is no help for him in God." God was cast out of their reckoning as of no consideration in the case; it was all moonshine, his pretended trust in Him. Material forces were the only real power; the idea of God's favour was only cant, or at best but "a devout imagination." But the foundation of his trust was too firm to be shaken either by the multitude of the insurgents or the bitterness of their sneers. "Thou, Lord, art a shield unto me"--ever protecting me, "my glory,"--ever honouring me, "and the lifter up of mine head,"--ever setting me on high because I have known Thy name. No doubt he had felt some tumult of soul when the insurrection began. But prayer brought him tranquillity. "I cried unto God with my voice, and He heard me out of His holy hill." How real the communion must have been that brought tranquillity to him amid such a sea of trouble! Even in the midst of his agitation he can lie down and sleep, and awake refreshed in mind and body. "I will not be afraid of ten thousands of the people that have set themselves against me round about." Faith already sees his enemies defeated and receiving the doom of ungodly men. "Arise, O Lord; save me, O my God; for Thou hast smitten all mine enemies upon the cheek bone; Thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly." And he closes as confidently and serenely as if victory had already come--"Salvation belongeth unto the Lord; Thy blessing is upon Thy people."
If, in this solemn crisis of his history, David is a pattern to us of meek submission, not less is he a pattern of perfect trust. He is strong in faith, giving glory to God, and feeling assured that what He has promised He is able also to perform. Deeply conscious of his own sin, he at the same time most cordially believes in the word and promise of God. He knows that, though chastened, he is not forsaken. He bows his head in meek acknowledgment of the righteousness of the chastisement; but he lays hold with unwavering trust on the mercy of God. This union of submission and trust, is one of priceless value, and much to be sought by every good man. Under the deepest sense of sin and unworthiness, you may rejoice and you ought to rejoice, in the provision of grace. And while rejoicing most cordially in the provision of grace, you ought to be contrite and humble for your sin. You are grievously defective if you want either of these elements. If the sense of sin weighs on you with unbroken pressure, if it keeps you from believing in forgiving mercy, if it hinders you from looking to the cross, to Him who taketh away the sin of the world, there is a grievous defect. If your joy in forgiving mercy has no element of contrition, no chastened sense of unworthiness, there is no less grievous a defect in the opposite direction. Let us try at once to feel our unworthiness, and to rejoice in the mercy that freely pardons and accepts. Let us look to the rock whence we are hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence we are digged; feeling that we are great sinners, but that the Lord Jesus Christ is a great Saviour; and finding our joy in that faithful saying, ever worthy of all acceptation, that "Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners," even the chief.