Psalm 6
Exposition
Explanatory Notes and Quaint Sayings
Hints to the Village Preacher
Other Works
TITLE. This Psalm is commonly known as the first of the
PENITENTIAL PSALMS, (The other six are 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, 143)
and certainly its language well becomes the lip of a penitent, for it
expresses at once the sorrow, (verses 3, 6, 7), the humiliation
(verses 2 and 4), and the hatred of sin (verse 8), which are the
unfailing marks of the contrite spirit when it turns to God. O Holy
Spirit, beget in us the true repentance which needeth not to be
repented of. The title of this Psalm is "To the chief Musician on
Neginoth upon Sheminith (1 Chronicle 15:21), A Psalm of David,"
that is, to the chief musician with stringed instruments, upon the
eighth, probably the octave. Some think it refers to the bass or
tenor key, which would certainly be well adapted to this mournful
ode. But we are not able to understand these old musical terms, and
even the term "Selah," still remains untranslated. This, however,
should be no difficulty in our way. We probably lose but very little
by our ignorance, and it may serve to confirm our faith. It is a
proof of the high antiquity of these Psalms that they contain words,
the meaning of which is lost even to the best scholars of the Hebrew
language. Surely these are but incidental (accidental I might almost
say, if I did not believe them to be designed by God), proofs of
their being, what they profess to be, the ancient writings of King
David of olden times.
DIVISION. You will observe that the Psalm is readily divided into
two parts. First, there is the Psalmist's plea in his great distress,
reaching from the first to the end of the seventh verse. Then you
have, from the eighth to the end, quite a different theme. The
Psalmist has changed his note. He leaves the minor key, and betakes
himself to sublimer strains. He tunes his note to the high key of
confidence, and declares that God hath heard his prayer, and hath
delivered him out of all his troubles.
EXPOSITION
Verse 1. Having read through the first division, in order to see it
as a whole, we will now look at it verse by verse. "O Lord, rebuke
me not in thine anger." The Psalmist is very conscious that he
deserves to be rebuked, and he feels, moreover, that the rebuke in
some form or other must come upon him, if not for condemnation, yet
for conviction and sanctification. "Corn is cleaned with wind, and
the soul with chastenings." It were folly to pray against the golden
hand which enriches us by its blows. He does not ask that the rebuke
may be totally withheld, for he might thus lose a blessing in
disguise; but, "Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger." If thou
remindest me of my sin, it is good; but, oh, remind me not of it as
one incensed against me, lest thy servant's heart should sink in
despair. Thus saith Jeremiah, "O Lord, correct me, but with judgment;
not in thine anger, lest thou bring me to nothing." I know that I
must be chastened, and though I shrink from the rod yet do I feel
that it will be for my benefit; but, oh, my God, "chasten me not
in thy hot displeasure," lest the rod become a sword, and lest in
smiting, thou shouldest also kill. So may we pray that the
chastisements of our gracious God, if they may not be entirely
removed, may at least be sweetened by the consciousness that they are
"not in anger, but in his dear covenant love."
Verse 2. "Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I am weak." Though I
deserve destruction, yet let thy mercy pity my frailty. This is the
right way to plead with God if we would prevail. Urge not your
goodness or your greatness, but plead your sin and your littleness.
Cry, "I am weak," therefore, O Lord, give me strength and
crush me not. Send not forth the fury of thy tempest against so weak
a vessel. Temper the wind to the shorn lamb. Be tender and pitiful to
a poor withering flower, and break it not from its stem. Surely this
is the plea that a sick man would urge to move the pity of his fellow
if he were striving with him, "Deal gently with me, 'for I am weak.'"
A sense of sin had so spoiled the Psalmist's pride, so taken away his
vaunted strength, that he found himself weak to obey the law, weak
through the sorrow that was in him, too weak, perhaps, to lay hold on
the promise. "I am weak." The original may be read, "I am one
who droops," or withered like a blighted plant. Ah! beloved, we know
what this means, for we, too, have seen our glory stained, and our
beauty like a faded flower.
Verse 3. "O Lord, heal me; for my bones are vexed." Here he
prays for healing, not merely the mitigation of the ills he
endured, but their entire removal, and the curing of the wounds which
had arisen therefrom. His bones were "shaken," as the Hebrew
has it. His terror had become so great that his very bones shook; not
only did his flesh quiver, but the bones, the solid pillars of the
house of manhood, were made to tremble. "My bones are shaken." Ah,
when the soul has a sense of sin, it is enough to make the bones
shake; it is enough to make a man's hair stand up on end to see the
flames of hell beneath him, an angry God above him, and danger and
doubt surrounding him. Well might he say, "My bones are shaken."
Lest, however, we should imagine that it was merely bodily sickness—
although bodily sickness might be the outward sign—the Psalmist goes
on to say, "My soul is also sore vexed." Soul-trouble is the
very soul of trouble. It matters not that the bones shake if the soul
be firm, but when the soul itself is also sore vexed this is agony
indeed. "But thou, O Lord, how long?" This sentence ends
abruptly, for words failed, and grief drowned the little comfort
which dawned upon him. The Psalmist had still, however, some hope;
but that hope was only in his God. He therefore cries, "O Lord, how
long?" The coming of Christ into the soul in his priestly robes of
grace is the grand hope of the penitent soul; and, indeed, in some
form or other, Christ's appearance is, and ever has been, the hope of
the saints.
Calvin's favourite exclamation was,
"Domine usquequo"— "O Lord, how long?" Nor could his sharpest
pains, during a life of anguish, force from him any other word.
Surely this is the cry of the saints under the altar, "O Lord, how
long?" And this should be the cry of the saints waiting for the
millennial glories, "Why are his chariots so long in coming; Lord,
how long?" Those of us who have passed through conviction of sin knew
what it was to count our minutes hours, and our hours years, while
mercy delayed its coming. We watched for the dawn of grace, as they
that watch for the morning. Earnestly did our anxious spirits ask, "O
Lord, how long?"
Verse 4. "Return, O Lord; deliver my soul." As God's absence
was the main cause of his misery, so his return would be enough to
deliver him from his trouble. "Oh save me for thy mercies'
sake." He knows where to look, and what arm to lay hold upon. He
does not lay hold on God's left hand of justice, but on his right
hand of mercy. He knew his iniquity too well to think of merit, or
appeal to anything but the grace of God.
"For thy mercies' sake." What a
plea that is! How prevalent it is with God! If we turn to justice,
what plea can we urge? but if we turn to mercy we may still cry,
notwithstanding the greatness of our guilt, "Save me for thy mercies'
sake."
Observe how frequently David here pleads
the name of Jehovah, which is always intended where the word LORD is
given in capitals. Five times in four verses we here meet with it. Is
not this a proof that the glorious name is full of consolation to the
tempted saint? Eternity, Infinity, Immutability, Self-existence, are
all in the name Jehovah, and all are full of comfort.
Verse 5. And now David was in great fear of death—death temporal,
and perhaps death eternal. Read the passage as you will, the
following verse is full of power. "For in death there is no
remembrance of thee; in the grave who shall give thee thanks?"
Churchyards are silent places; the vaults of the sepulchre echo not
with songs. Damp earth covers dumb mouths. "O Lord!" saith he, "if
thou wilt spare me I will praise thee. If I die, then must my mortal
praise at least be suspended; and if I perish in hell, then thou wilt
never have any thanksgiving from me. Songs of gratitude cannot rise
from the flaming pit of hell. True, thou wilt doubtless be glorified,
even in my eternal condemnation, but then O Lord, I cannot glorify
thee voluntarily; and among the sons of men, there will be one heart
the less to bless thee." Ah! poor trembling sinners, may the Lord
help you to use this forcible argument! It is for God's glory that a
sinner should be saved. When we seek pardon, we are not asking God to
do that which will stain his banner, or put a blot on his escutcheon.
He delighteth in mercy. It is his peculiar, darling attribute. Mercy
honours God. Do not we ourselves say, "Mercy blesseth him that gives,
and him that takes?" And surely, in some diviner sense, this is true
of God, who, when he gives mercy, glorifies himself.
Verse 6. The Psalmist gives a fearful description of his long agony:
"I am weary with my groaning." He has groaned till his throat
was hoarse; he had cried for mercy till prayer became a labour. God's
people may groan, but they may not grumble. Yea, they must groan,
being burdened, or they will never shout in the day of deliverance.
The next sentence, we think, is not accurately translated. It should
be, "I shall make my bed to swim every night" (when nature
needs rest, and when I am most alone with my God). That is to say, my
grief is fearful even now, but if God do not soon save me, it will
not stay of itself, but will increase, until my tears will be so
many, that my bed itself shall swim. A description rather of what he
feared would be, than of what had actually taken place. May not our
forebodings of future woe become arguments which faith may urge when
seeking present mercy?
Verse 7. "I water my couch with my tears. Mine eye is consumed
because of grief; it waxeth old because of all my enemies." As an
old man's eye grows dim with years, so, says David, my eye is grown
red and feeble through weeping. Conviction sometimes has such an
effect upon the body, that even the outward organs are made to
suffer. May not this explain some of the convulsions and hysterical
attacks which have been experienced under convictions in the revivals
in Ireland? Is it surprising that some souls be smitten to the earth,
and begin to cry aloud; when we find that David himself made his bed
to swim, and grew old while he was under the heavy hand of God? Ah!
brethren, it is no light matter to feel one's self a sinner,
condemned at the bar of God. The language of this Psalm is not
strained and forced, but perfectly natural to one in so sad a
plight.
Verse 8. Hitherto, all has been mournful and disconsolate, but now—
"Your harps, ye trembling saints,
Down from the willows take."
Ye must have your times of weeping, but let them be short. Get ye up,
get ye up, from your dunghills! Cast aside your sackcloth and ashes!