Charles Spurgeon

Such store is a sad sore. Ruminating upon trouble is bitter work. Children fill their mouths with bitterness when they rebelliously chew the pill which they ought obediently to have taken at once.

With a sling and a stone, David had smitten a giant before whom the whole hosts of Israel were trembling, and the Lord, who delivered him from the uncircumcised Philistine, could surely deliver him from King Saul and his myrmidons.

Absalom's faction, like a snowball, strangely gathered in its motion. David speaks of it as one amazed; and well he might, that a people he had so many ways obliged, should almost generally revolt from him, and rebel against him, and choose for their head such a silly, giddy young fellow as Absalom was. How slippery and deceitful are the many! And how little fidelity and constancy is to be found among men! David had had the hearts of his subjects as much as ever any king had, and yet how suddenly he had lost them! As people must not trust too much to princes (Psalm 146:3), so princes must not build too much upon their interest in the people. Christ, the Son of David, had many enemies, when a great multitude came to seize him, when the crowd cried, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" how were they then increased who troubled him! Even good people must not think it strange if the stream goes against them, and the powers that threaten them grow more and more formidable. Matthew Henry.

When I consider your heavens, etc. 'Could we transport ourselves above the moon, could we reach the highest star above our heads--we would instantly discover new skies, new stars, new suns, new systems, and perhaps more magnificently adorned. But even there, the vast dominions of our great Creator would not terminate; we would then find, to our astonishment, that we had only arrived at the borders of the works of God. It is but little that we can know of his works, but that little should teach us to be humble, and to admire God's wisdom, power and goodness. How great must that Being be, who produced these immense globes out of nothing, who regulates their courses, and whose mighty hand directs and supports them all! 'What is the clod of earth which we inhabit, with all the magnificent scenes it presents to us--in comparison of those innumerable worlds? Were this earth annihilated, its absence would no more be observed, than that of a grain of sand from the sea shore! What then are all our fine homes and belongings--when compared with those infinite worlds? They are but atoms dancing in the air, which are revealed to us by the sunbeams. 'What then am I, when reckoned among the infinite number of God's creatures? I am lost in my own nothingness! 'But as little as I appear in this respect--I find myself great in others. There is great beauty in this starry firmament which God has chosen for his throne! How admirable are those celestial bodies! I am dazzled with their splendor, and enchanted with their beauty! But notwithstanding this, however beautiful, and however richly adorned--yet this sky is void of intelligence. It is a stranger to its own beauty, while I, who am mere clay, molded by a divine hand, am endowed with sense and reason. I can contemplate the beauty of these shining worlds; nay, more, I am already, to a certain degree, acquainted with their sublime Author; and by faith I see some small rays of his divine glory. 'O may I be more and more acquainted with his works, and make the study of them my employ, until by a glorious change I rise to dwell with him above the starry regions!' Christopher Christian Sturm's 'Reflections', 1750-1786.

"Jesus' tremendous name Puts all our foes to flight; Jesus, the meek, the angry Lamb A lion is in fight."

Verse 6. You shall destroy those who tell lies, etc. In the same field where Absalom raised battle against his father, stood the oak which was his gibbet. The mule whereon he rode was his hangman, for the mule carried him to the tree, and the hair wherein he gloried served for a rope to hang. Little do the wicked know—how everything which they now have shall be a snare to trap them when God begins to punish them! William Cowper, 1612.

When the little bird in my bosom sings a merry song, it is no matter to me if a thousand owls hoot at me from without.

Observe the state of the world before the flood, as portrayed in Genesis 6:12, and remember that human nature is unchanged. He who would see a terrible photograph of the world without God must read that most painful of all inspired Scriptures, the first chapter of the epistle to the Romans. Learned Hindus have confessed that the description is literally correct in Hindustan at the present moment; and were it not for the restraining grace of God, it would be so in England. Alas! it is even here but too correct a picture of things which are done by men in secret. Things loathsome to God and man are sweet to some palates.

When wandering among the Alps, we felt that the Lord was infinitely greater than all his grandest works, and under that feeling, we roughly wrote these few lines: Yet in all these how great soe'er they be, We see not Him. The glass is all too dense And dark, or else our earthborn eyes too dim. Yon Alps, that lift their heads above the clouds And hold familiar converse with the stars, Are dust, at which the balance trembles not, Compared with His divine immensity. The snow-crowned summits fail to set Him forth, Who dwells in Eternity, and bears Alone, the name of High and Lofty One. Depths unfathomed are too shallow to express The wisdom and the knowledge of the Lord. The mirror of the creatures has no space To bear the image of the Infinite. 'Tis true the Lord has fairly writ his name, And set his seal upon creation's brow. But as the skillful potter much excels The vessel which he fashions on the wheel, E'en so, but in proportion greater far, Jehovah's self transcends his noblest works. Earth's ponderous wheels would break, her axles snap, If freighted with the load of Deity. Space is too narrow for the Eternal's rest, And time too short a footstool for his throne. E'en avalanche and thunder lack a voice, To utter the full volume of his praise. How then can I declare him? Where are words With which my glowing tongue may speak his name? Silent I bow, and humbly I adore. 'How excellent is your name in all the earth!' 'How illustrious is the name of Jesus throughout the world! His incarnation, birth, humble and obscure life, preaching, miracles, passion, death, resurrection, and ascension, are celebrated through the whole world. His religion, the gifts and graces of his Spirit, his people--Christians, his gospel, and the preachers of it, are everywhere spoken of. No name is so universal, no power and influence so generally felt, as those of the Savior of mankind. Amen!' Adam Clarke

"How long?" Ah! how long do our days appear when our soul is cast down within us! Time flies with full-fledged wing in our summer days, but in our winters he flutters painfully. A week within prison-walls is longer than a month at liberty.

Bishop Mant's version of the two preceding verses is forcible and accurate: "Poured forth like water is my frame; My bones asunder start; As wax that feels the searching flame, Within me melts my heart. My withered sinews shrink unstrung Like potsherd dried and dead; Cleaves to my jaws my burning tongue The dust of death my bed."

A far more fitting prayer for a sinful mortal is the petition, "Enter not into judgment with your servant."