Charles Spurgeon

PSALM 6
 

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 your 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 your anger." If you remind me of my sin, it is good; but, oh, remind me not of it as one incensed against me, lest your servant's heart should sink in despair. Thus says Jeremiah, "O Lord, correct me, but with judgment; not in your anger, lest you bring me to nothing."

I know that I must be chastened, and though I shrink from the rod — yet I feel that it will be for my benefit; but, oh, my God, "chasten me not in your hot displeasure," lest the rod become a sword, and lest in smiting, you should 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 your 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 your 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.

"O Lord, heal me; for my bones are in agony." 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,

Verse 3. "My soul is also sore vexed." Soul-trouble is the very soul of trouble. It matters not that the bones shake, if the soul is firm — but when the soul itself is also sore vexed — this is agony indeed.

"But you, 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 favorite exclamation was, "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; O 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 your 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 your 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 your 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 you; in the grave who shall give you thanks?" Churchyards are silent places; the vaults of the sepulcher echo not with songs. Damp earth covers dumb mouths. "O Lord!" says he, "if you will spare me I will praise you. If I die, then must my mortal praise at least be suspended; and if I perish in Hell, then you will never have any thanksgiving from me. Songs of gratitude cannot rise from the flaming pit of Hell. True, you will doubtless be glorified, even in my eternal condemnation — but then O Lord, I cannot glorify you voluntarily; and among the sons of men, there will be one heart the less to bless you."

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 delights in mercy. It is his peculiar, darling attribute. Mercy honors God. Do not we ourselves say, "Mercy blesses him that gives, as well as 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 until his throat was hoarse; he had cried for mercy until prayer became a labor. God's people may groan — but they may not grumble. Yes, 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 does 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. My eye is consumed because of grief; it waxes 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, you trembling saints,

Down from the willows take."

You must have your times of weeping — but let them be short. Get up, get up from your dunghills! Cast aside your sackcloth and ashes! Weeping may endure for a night — but joy comes in the morning.

David has found peace, and rising from his knees he begins to sweep his house of the wicked. "Depart from me, all you workers of iniquity." The best remedy for us against an evil man, is a long space between us both. "Get away from me; I can have no fellowship with you."

Repentance is a practical thing. It is not enough to bemoan the desecration of the temple of the heart, we must scourge out the buyers and sellers, and overturn the tables of the money changers. A pardoned sinner will hate the sins which cost the Savior his blood. Grace and sin are quarrelsome neighbors, and one or the other must go to the wall.

"For the Lord has heard the voice of my weeping." What a fine Hebraism, and what grand poetry it is in English! "He has heard the voice of my weeping." Is there a voice in weeping? Does weeping speak? In what language does it utter its meaning? Why, in that universal tongue which is known and understood in all the earth, and even in Heaven above. When a man weeps, whether he be a Jew or Gentile, Barbarian, Scythian, bond or free, it has the same meaning in it. Weeping is the eloquence of sorrow. It is an unstammering orator, needing no interpreter — but understood by all. It is sweet to know that our tears are understood, even when words fail. Let us learn to think of tears as liquid prayers, and of weeping as a constant dropping of importunate intercession which will wear its way right surely into the very heart of God's mercy, despite the stony difficulties which obstruct the way. My God, I will "weep" when I cannot plead, for you hear the voice of my weeping.

Verse 9. "The Lord has heard my supplication." The Holy Spirit had wrought into the Psalmist's mind the confidence that his prayer was heard. This is frequently the privilege of the saints. Praying the prayer of faith, they are often infallibly assured that they have prevailed with God. We read of Luther that, having on one occasion wrestled hard with God in prayer, he came leaping out of his closet crying, "I have conquered, I have prevailed with God." Assured confidence is no idle dream, for when the Holy Spirit bestows it upon us, we know its reality, and could not doubt it, even though all men should deride our boldness.

"The Lord will receive my prayer." Here is past experience used for future encouragement. He has — he will. Note this, O believer, and imitate its reasoning.

Verse 10. "Let all my enemies be ashamed and sore vexed." This is rather a prophecy than an imprecation, it may be read in the future tense, "All my enemies shall be ashamed and sore vexed." They shall return and be ashamed instantaneously — in a moment — their doom shall come upon them suddenly. Death's day is doom's day, and both are sure and may be sudden.

The Romans were accustomed to say, "The feet of the avenging Deity are shod with wool." With noiseless footsteps vengeance nears its victim, and sudden and overwhelming shall be its destroying stroke!

If this were an imprecation, we must remember that the language of the old dispensation is not that of the new. We pray for our enemies — not against them. God have mercy on them, and bring them into the right way.

Thus the Psalm, like those which precede it, shows the different estates of the godly and the wicked. O Lord, let us be numbered with your people, both now and forever!