12. Hear my prayer, O Lord. Thou hast heard the clamor of my sins, Lord; hear the laments of my
prayers. And give ear unto my cry. Here is an advance in intensity: a
cry is more vehement, pathetic, and impassioned than a prayer. Hold not thy peace at my tears. This is a yet higher degree of importunate pleading. Who
can withstand tears, which are the irresistible weapons of weakness? Mercy
denies them nothing, if through them the weeper looks to richer drops, even to
the blood of Jesus. God may long be quiet, as though he regarded not, but the
hour of deliverance will come, and come like the morning when the dewdrops are
plentiful. For I am a stranger with thee. Not to thee, but with
thee. Like thee, my Lord, a stranger among the sons of men, an alien from my
mother’s children. God made the world, sustains it, and owns it, and yet men
treat him as though he were a foreign intruder; and as they treat the Master,
so do they deal with the servants. These words may also mean, “I share the hospitality of God,” like a
stranger entertained by a generous host. Israel was bidden to deal tenderly
with the stranger, and the God of Israel has in much compassion treated us poor
aliens with unbounded liberality. And a sojourner, as all my fathers were.
They used the world as travelers use an inn, and so do I. David uses the
fleeting nature of our life as an argument for the Lord’s mercy. We show pity
to poor pilgrims, and so will the Lord.
PREVIOUS
NEXT
No comments:
Post a Comment