5. Why art thou cast down, O my soul? As
though he were two men, the psalmist talks to himself. His faith reasons with
his fears, his hope argues with his sorrows. These present troubles, are they
to last forever? The rejoicings of my foes, are they more than empty talk? My
absence from the solemn feasts, is that a perpetual exile? Why this deep
depression? To search out the causes of our sorrow is often the best surgery
for grief. Self-ignorance is not bliss; in this case it is misery. The mist of
ignorance magnifies the causes of our alarm; a clearer view will make monsters
dwindle into trifles. Why art thou disquieted within me? Why is my quiet
gone? If I cannot keep a public Sabbath, yet wherefore do I deny my soul her
indoor Sabbath? Why am I agitated like a troubled sea, and why do my thoughts
make a noise like a tumultuous multitude? The causes are not enough to justify
such utter yielding to despondency. Up, my heart! Your castings down will turn
to liftings up, and your disquietudes to calm. Hope thou in God. If
every evil is let loose from Pandora’s box, yet is there hope at the bottom.
God is unchangeable, and therefore his grace is the ground for unshaken hope.
If everything be dark, yet the day will come, and meanwhile hope carries stars
in her eyes; her lamps are not dependent upon oil from without, her light is
fed by secret visitations of God, which sustain the spirit. For I shall yetpraise him. A loss of the present sense of God’s love is not a loss of that
love itself; hope knows her title to be good when she cannot read it clear. ForI shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance. Salvations come
from the propitious face of God, and he will yet lift up his countenance upon
us. Note well that the main hope and chief desire of David rest in the smile of
God. This verse, like the singing of Paul and Silas, looses chains and shakes
prison walls. He who can use such heroic language in his gloomy hours will
surely conquer.
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