PSALM LI.

AN IDEAL PRAYER.

To discuss the authorship of this psalm may well seem to most readers a needless waste of ingenuity. For while it may have arisen in the personal experiences of King David, as the traditional title expressly affirms, the most ardent advocate of the Davidic authorship is not precluded from assuming that the whole psalm, at least in its present form, could not have originated at that early period. A later exilic age is too clearly reflected in verses 17, 18. But if a subsequent generation added to the poem at all, why should the additional matter be restricted to these two verses? May not the Church of a later era have worked over the whole composition, and in the light of new aspirations and problems have made it an ideal prayer both for the individual and for the Church? One fact is plain, that now in its completed form both the individual and the Church find in its classic phrases an ideal expression of their own penitence and worship; and if these two objects are served by the very finish of the composition, it is no meaningless conjecture to suppose that both the individual and the Church have had a real share in its production. There is no note in the whole gamut of its devotion which a modern congregation might not use in the offering of public worship; and no one who knows anything of the spiritual longings of the individual heart will feel any misgiving in utilising every tone or chord that vibrates in this timeless threnody. Many of us, indeed, will hasten to confess that instead of misgiving, we have frequently found in these plaintive but soul-subduing strains the one vehicle possible for our own penitence and devotion. In all ages the saints of God have come to this Hebrew psalm, and found in it a helpful, if not a peerless, liturgy: and as such we may profitably summarise its teaching under the following threefold division: —

1. A Prayer for Forgiveness.

" According to the multitude of Thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions."

In its rendering for " transgressions," the Septuagint emphasises the fact that before the Psalmist peers into the depths of a vitiated nature, he gazes at the noxious and fungoid growths which had appeared above the surface and manifested themselves in the life. He commences with the particular acts of sin, with which he had at once wronged his fellows and defied his God. Crimes of adultery and bloodguiltiness, as in the life of the Hebrew monarch, or sins of robbery and oppression. Sabbath profanation and irreverence, which had marked the course of a disobedient people, were of such a nature that they could easily be differentiated, and even as single actions were only to be repudiated and condemned. Hence in these opening verses all the terms are employed by which moral evil had already been stigmatised in Ps. xxxii. It was rebellion, perversity, and a missing of the mark, all in one. It defied God, allowed itself to drift into crooked courses, and like a caravan lost in the desert, never reached its destined goal.

And what was the explanation of these infatuated actions? If they rose like hills dominating the landscape, and casting a baleful shadow over the life, what was the deep under-bed of rock out of which they rose, and upon which they were so firmly and immovably based? The Psalmist found it in the inner depths of a vitiated nature.

"Behold I was shapen in iniquity

And in sin did my mother conceive me."

The deepest fact to him was not sins, but sin. He had been born into a corrupt race. The individual acts were the outcome of a polluted source. They had been moulded by the law of heredity.

It need scarcely be added that there was no thought in this of defaming a mother's honour, or of shifting the blame of a man's own actions to the law or will of the Eternal. Human souls which have never felt the weight of conscious guilt may play with these ignoble suggestions, but no one who has felt the sting of an awakened conscience will introduce the thought of heredity for any such purpose. Like the Psalmist he would rather learn the secret of his own infatuation, and realise as he gazes into these profound depths how absolutely helpless a human being is when left to his own efforts and resources. Instead of rising into the light of the Divine favour, he can only sink and disappear in the black maelstrom of iniquity.

It is just at this point, however, that the hope of the true penitent vindicates its Divine origin. He is not thus left alone in his helplessness. He can fall back on the promise of covenant love, and say —

"Haye mercy upon me, O God, according to Thy lovingkindness:

According to the multitude of Thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions.''

He remembers the revealed will and character of Jehovah. He recalls the assured fact that He is a God full of compassion and gracious, abundant in lovingkindness ' and truth: and realising that this is the fountain-head of all blessing, he can come in the assurance of faith, and pray, that the dreaded record of his sin may be smeared out of God's book, or the loathed leprosy itself expunged out of his heart.

"Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean:

Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow."

Let Jehovah Himself take the bunch of hyssop and perform the priestly function. Let Him sprinkle clean water upon the spiritual leper and pronounce him clean. Nay, let it be done thoroughly —

"Wash me throughly from mine iniquity.

And cleanse me from my sin'' (ver. 2).

In Other words, whatever discipline be required to remove the foul stains, let the painful process be resorted to, that the end in view may be graciously attained, and the man himself stand in the presence of Jehovah, a restored and guileless soul. This is the first part of the Psalmist's ideal prayer. Let Jehovah touch the leper and say, " I will, be thou clean/* In this large and deeply spiritual sense, let Him bestow His forgiveness.

2. A Prayer for Holiness.

The second stage in the Psalmist's thought is set forth in verses 10-12. He prays for a human spirit which is at once renewed, sanctified, and free. And he has been led to this wider conception because in his preceding prayer for forgiveness he had already grasped the idea of a vitiated nature. The whole man had been infected with the poison, and now the whole man must share in the remedy. In mind and will and conscience, the spiritual leper must be cleansed. Nay, the thought of cleansing is no longer sufficient. The cleansing of the leper may have been a suitable enough figure for depicting forgiveness: but when the Psalmist comes to this deeper conception of inward holiness, he instinctively falls back on the thought of a Divine creation or renewal —

"Create in me a clean heart, O God;

And renew a right spirit within me."

This is at the basis of all true holy living: the vitiated nature must be replaced by a new creation (cf. Ezek. xxxvi. 26).

And the new creation must be sanctified. The pure in heart may abide in the presence of the Holy One of Israel, but no one else will or can. The first fratricide could only quail. at the thought that he was to be driven forth that day from the presence of Jehovah (Gen. iv. 14); while each succeeding generation can only echo the admission —

"Evil shall not sojourn with Thee:

The arrogant shall not stand in Thy sight."

But how shall any one become pure, except through the creative, life-giving power of God? And how shall any one remain pure, save through the continued operation of the same Divine influence? The presence and power of Jehovah's spirit is the secret of both. Hence, as in the fuller teaching of Ezek. xxxvi. 27, the Psalmist prays —

"Cast me not away from Thy presence

And take not Thy holy spirit from me,"

In other words, let my own spirit be made new by Divine power. Let it be fashioned into a fit temple for the deity. Then when the inner shrine is thus made meet for its heavenly guest, let Thy Spirit take up its abode in the heart A life of holiness will at last be assured when the Spirit of Jehovah is my inspirer and guide.

And deepest touch of all, let my renewed spirit be free; for this, in any adequate interpretation of the term, is of the very essence of holiness.

"Uphold me with a free spirit."

In the language of David Elginbrod, I would no longer be a " kind of noble slave," but a free and happy child. I would obey the innate prompting of a new nature, and not simply the compulsion of an external law. For when, in Henry Scougal's phrase, "the life of God is in the soul of man," there is felt the uprising of a new instinct which spontaneously cares for the things of God, as the heart panteth for the waterbrooks. The supernatural has become natural. Just as one man may have a genius for acquiring knowledge, and another a bent or aptitude for practical affairs, Henry Scougal had "a genius for godliness," a natural instinct for sacrificing himself for the good of others. Like Timothy (Phil, ii. 20) he naturally cared for these things. He did it spontaneously and freely. If one had peered into the depths of his inmost life, he would have found there an instinct which turned to Christ, like the swallow returning to the same old nest. Or to use Dr. Chalmers' classic phrase, he would have found "the expulsive power of a new affection." And this, we repeat, is of the very essence of the Psalmist's ideal prayer. He prays for the spontaneity and freeness of a new nature. The first prayer for forgiveness was not sufficient. It had to be supplemented by the Diviner glow and richer life of holiness. And therefore he prays —

"Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation:

And uphold me with a free spirit."

In this broad and deeply spiritual sense, give me a new life which is renewed, sanctified, and free. Let forgiveness be followed by holiness.

3. A Prayer for Service.

"Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation:

.          .          .          .          .          .

Then will I teach transgressors Thy ways.

And sinners shall be converted unto Thee.''

Building on his own experience, the Psalmist would both teach and sing. He would teach others the "ways" or method of the Divine government, according to which, anything like impenitence is visited by condign punishment, but penitence or heartfelt contrition is welcomed and crowned by the fulness of Divine forgiveness. And in the present instance he is assured that his teaching would not be in vain. Those who had sinned would be so encouraged by the Psalmist's example, that they would return unto Jehovah and find in the wealth of His covenant love the pledge of all human blessedness. For Jehovah Himself is the vindicator of the covenant His readiness to forgive is no mere clemency on the part of one who is too indulgent to punish evil. It is part of His eternal righteousness (ver. 14). "If we confess our sins, he is merciful and righteous to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." The Psalmist's example may be much, but Jehovah's faithfulness to the covenant is more. The exercise of grace, goodness, and forgiveness is but one part of His Divine rectitude. And therefore the Psalmist adds —

"Deliver me from bloodguiltinessy O Lord,

And my tongue shall sing aloud of Thy righteousness."

Or again, in his heart of hearts, the true penitent would worship. After both the teaching and the singing have lapsed into silence, he would go in before his Maker, and try to render unto Jehovah the homage that was His due. And what is the nature of that service? Even Kipling in his " Recessional " has tried to reproduce the answer —

"The tumult and the shouting diet—

The Captains and the Kings depart—

Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice,

An humble and a contrite heart.

Lord God of hosts, be with us yet.

Lest we forget — lest we forget! '*

The answer is that brightest jewel in Old Testament piety — the unique, spiritual grace of " humility." When instructing his fellowmen, the Psalmist could both teach and sing. He could give expression to the full assurance of his faith in a song of implicit trust But now, when the song is hushed, and he has turned round to bow before the Eternal, he has but one profound conviction lying upon his spirit —

"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit:

A broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise."

What are animal sacrifices compared with an offering like that? They are not worthy of being mentioned in the same breath. Bereft of this true spirituality which gives meaning and value to the whole, they are nothing better than the mere externals of worship without the inner vitality or soul. And yet, if Jerusalem were only restored and purified, as the spiritual Church of God should be, there might be a legitimate enough place for animal sacrifices after all. And, therefore, in that sublime liturgical addition which now gives finish to the psalm, the true worshipper prays —

"Do good in Thy good pleasure unto Zion:

Build Thou the walls of Jerusalem.

Then shalt Thou delight in the sacrifices of righteousness . . .

Then shall they offer bullocks upon Thine altar.''

In the meanwhile, the Lord demands obedience and not sacrifice, devotion and not ritual, humility and true contrition rather than the formal presentation of a merely external worship. For only then shall the Psalmist's ideal prayer be gloriously realised; and penitence, holiness, and service be rapt in the profound mysticism of love.

"Thought was not: in enjoyment it expired:

No thanks he breathed, he proffered no request:

Rapt into still communion that transcends

The imperfect offices of prayer or praise,

His mind was a thanksgiving to the power

That made him: it was blessedness and lore."

This is prayer in its ideality — the rapture and adoration of a child.