Bible Commentaries
Expositor's Dictionary of Texts
Psalms 89
Psalm 89:15
In these words David speaks of the blessedness of the people that know the joyful sound. Although year by year the sound of the trumpet brightened the hearts of God's chosen people, yet there was one year in which that sound brought them exceeding joy. It was the year of jubilee when on the day of atonement, when all the solemn services of that day were over, there was brought to the suffering and to the poor great joy. At the sound of that trumpet every slave was set free. Yet the words had a deeper meaning even for David; for all through the teaching of that olden time there was an under-current heard by those who had ears to hear, which told them of exceeding joy. It was the hope which was the centre of their life, the great object of their longing, the hope of one who would deliver them from worse than earthly bondage, and restore them to a possession which they had forfeited by their sin.
I. But to us have not these words a deeper meaning still? The joyful sounds that stir our hearts tell us not of a coming salvation but of a Saviour who has come. It speaks to us who through our sins had forfeited the kingdom of our God, and tells us that Psalm 89:47
I. I would describe this as the earliest Bible cry for immortality. It is a very peculiar cry. It is grounded not upon instinct, but upon reason. It is not a longing founded upon the mere love of life It is not a desire based upon the mere dread of death. It is not a wish rising from the mere search of new surroundings. It is a cry originating in the spirit of economy—the resistance to waste. The Psalmist is impressed with the inadequacy of the term of human life. He does not mean that it is too short for enjoyment; enjoyment is always taken at a quick draught. But he thinks it too short for the work assigned to it. He sees the labourer hired into the vineyard with orders to perform a certain task. But he finds that the task given to the labourer is one which he could not possibly perform within the limits of the working day. He says, "What does the Lord of the vineyard mean by this disproportion between work and time, surely He must intend the labour to be continued into another day!"
II. You will find that the deepest cry of all ages has been the Psalmist's cry. What makes us crave a future is not a sense of this world's misery, but a sense of this world's vanity. We say with the Psalmist, "Wherefore hast Thou made all men in vain—why hast Thou given them working orders which are quite incommensurate with the brief time they have to live on earth?" We feel that there is more furniture to be put into the house than the house will hold. We are prompted to boundless aspirations, and we live on earth for but an hour. We are inspired to endless love, and it never reaches summer. We are bidden by conscience to work for all ages, and we have only three score years and ten. Life's day is too short for us. It is not too short for the bee, which completes its destined palace. It is not too short for the lark, which completes its destined song. But it is too short for man whose ideal is unrealized, whose song is unfinished, whose labour in the field is scarce begun.
III. Therefore, O Lord, I know that this is not my goal. Thou hast furnished me with powers which here can have no adequate exercise. I speak of the ephemeral insect; yet if this life were my all, the insect would not be so ephemeral as I.... The insect finishes the work which Thou gavest it to do; I leave my studies incomplete, my book unwritten, my picture without its closing touch, my house without its topmost story. But it is just my incompleteness that makes my hope. I know Thou wouldst not give me power to be squandered; I know Thou hast appointed for me another day. It is not my fear that cries to Thee; it is my sense of justice and my wish to indicate Thy justice. If earth met all my needs, I would accept the day of death. But earth has not fully responded to any one cry of my spirit as I claim response from Thee. Surely there are answers waiting somewhere to the myriad epistles written by my heart! Forbid that I should think Thou hast made my life in vain.
—G. Matheson, Messages of Hope, p97.
References.—LXXXIX:47.—G. Brooks, Outlines of Sermons, p21. J. Martineau, Hours of Thought, vol. i. p203. LXXXIX.—International Critical Commentary, vol. ii. p250. XC1.—C. F. Aked, Christian World Pulpit, 1891. p10. Spurgeon, Sermons, vol. i. No46.
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