The Pulpit Commentary — Psalms — Volume 3 — Section 360

I, THE L~RD IS NOT ALTOGETHER mDIFFERENT TO THEM. He might be. They must be to him somewhat as the wayside beggar is to us. How often we pass him by with utter indifference I and when we have any feeling at all, it is only a revulsion from the miserable object. Yet when we think of it, that state of mind distresses us. \Ve cannot be really good; for if we were, no form of humiliation or distress would fail to touch us with the tenderest pity. Gotl cannot be indifferent to the meek. II. TIIE Lonn DOES NOT PITY THEM, AND STAND ASIDE. As the priest and Levite di,! when they came and looked on the stripped and wounded sufferer. Too often man pities, and does nothing; comforting himself with the thought that he pitied, and so was eddently tender and sensitive in feeling. Situations presented in novels excite our pity, but they do us no moral good, because we have no chance of putting our pity into helpful action. We could have no heart-rest in God, if all we could be sure about him was that he pitied us. III. _THE LORJ? GRA_crnusLY HE~PS THOSS WHOM HE _PITIES. As did the good Samaritan, spendmg himself to relieve the man whose distress awakened his pitiful feeling. 'l'he help God gives is put into a word which precisely matches the word "meek." He upholdeth. The crushed, humbled, heartless man is in danger of falling and fainting. He can hardly hold himself up. So precisely what be needs is steady- ing, upholding, everlasting arms put about him until he can feel his feet, recover his strength, find life flow freely again, and smile into God's watching face the smile of recovered hope.-R. T, Ver. B.-God's care of the mountain grasses. The following extract from Hugh Macmillan's 'Bible Teaching in Nature' suggests both sermon-topic and illustration, and the peculiarities noticed are fresh and unfamiliar: "The mountain grasses grow spontaneously; they require no culture but such as the rain and the sunshine of heaven supply. They obtain their nourishment directly from the inorganic soil, and are independent of organic materials. Nowhere is the grass so green and vigorous as on the beautiful slopes of lawn-like pasture high up on the Alps, radiant with the glory of wild flowers, and ever musical with the hum of grasshoppers, and the tinkling of cattle-bells. Innumerable cows and goats browse upon them; the peasants spend the summer months in making cheese and hay from them for winter consumption in the valleys. This exhausting system of husbandry has "lteen carried on during untold centuries; no one thinks of manuring the Alpine pastures; and yet no deficiency has been observed in their fertility, though the soil is but a thin covering spread over the naked rocks. It may be regarded as a part of the same wise and gracious arrange- ment of Providence that the insects which devour the grasses on the Kuh and Schaf Alpen, the pasturages of the cows and sheep, are kept in check by a predominance of carnivorous insects. In all the mountain meadows, it has been ascertained that the species of carnivorous are at least four times as numerous as the species of herb-eating insects. Thus, in the absence of birds, which are rare in Switzerland, the pastures are preserved from a terrible scourge. To one not aware of this check, it may seem surprising how the verdure of the Alpine pastures should be so rich and luxuriant, considering the immense development of insect-life. The grass, whenever the sun shine!, is literally swarming with them-butterflies of gayest hues, and beetles of brightest iridescence; and the air is filled with their loud murmurs. I remember well the vivid feeling of God's gracious providence whioh possessed me when passing over the Wengern Alp, at the foot of the Jung Frau, and seeing, wherever I rested on the green turf, the balance of nature so wonderfully preserved between the herb which is for man's food, and the moth before which he is crushed. Were the herbivorous insects allowed to multiply to their full extent, in such favourable circumstances as the warmth of the air and the verdure of the earth in Switzerland produce, the rich pastures which now yield abundant food for upwards of a million and a half of cattle would speedily become bare and leafless deserts. Not only in their power of growing without cultivation, but also in the peculiarities of their structure, the mountain grasses proclaim the hand of God. Many of them are viviparous. Instead of producing flowers and seeds, as the grasses in the tranquil valleys do, the young plants spring from them perfectly formed. They cling round the stem, and form a kind of blossom. 1n this state they remain until the parent st11lk wilhors and falls prostrate on the 1'!1, OX1VII, 1-20.] TIIE BOOK OF PSALMS.