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This psalm has well been called "the Hymn of Creation." It is, indeed, an anthem of praise inspired by Genesis 1; for the writer, whoever he was, must have had that birth of the history of the world before him, and he follows it throughout. It suggests to him his adoring thoughts of the wisdom, the majesty, the beneficence of God. This is his chief conviction, his overwhelming impression, that justifies his song of praise to God. In the succession of the seasons, in the springs that rise in the hills and course through the valleys, in the showers that make the grass to grow for the cattle and herb for the service of man, even in the fierce instincts and the struggle of the weaker creatures who roar after their prey and seek their meat from God, in the teeming life of the great deep, in the sails that stud its bosom, in the whole order of man's existence, in his daily round of labour, even in the mysterious successions of life, in the periodical convulsions which sweep the earth and prepare it for other tenants, the psalmist sees the work of one and the same mind bestowing or revoking at will the wondrous gift of Being. And not only is the world, in the psalmist's eyes, the handiwork of a Divine Creator, but of a Creator who never ceases to work. He who made, renews the face of the earth, in Him we live, and move, and have our being. He not only has given, but He never ceases to give. From day to day, from hour to hour, He presides over all existence. He giveth to all life and breath and all things. Now, there are two opposite extremes into which our conceptions on this point may fall. We may merge God in nature, or we may isolate nature from God. I say, first of all, we may merge God in nature. And this is what a great many people continually do. They personify nature, they speak of it as if it originated its own processes, as if it aimed at certain things, as if it were conscious of its own plan. Nature, men say, does this or does that. It is not wise to allow ourselves to drop into this current laxity of language. It may easily lead us astray, and vitiate our own belief, and from a poetical personification it is easy to go on to a virtual deification of the physical universe. One corrective lies in this spiritual idea of creation as an act of will on the part of One who is outside all material being. Philosophy traces all phenomena to the action of a living will. By no mental effort can we conceive it otherwise. The attributes and personality of the Person whose will has determined that nature should be what it is demand that He must be a Person who is not Himself included in His work; He must be outside of, and above, His own creation. "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." On the other hand, we may fall into the error of isolating the workmanship from the worker, of looking at nature apart from God. This is what men do when they conceive of the universe and treat it as though it taught us nothing of God, as though it were a succession of changes without meaning, or a machine supplied with a certain storage of force to keep it going, or as if it had no spiritual purpose, no one far off end towards which it was always moving, and separate the Worker from the work. But this confusion is hardly scientific, and it is most certainly irreligious. "The heavens declare," not only perfect processes of mechanism, but "the glory of God, and the firmament showeth His handiwork." We know that the word of a person has two functions. It is the organ of command conveying an act of will; it is also an organ of expression, it reveals the nature of the speaker. Now, in the creation of the universe the Word of the Lord exercises both these functions. It is absolutely inconceivable to our faculties, this genesis of matter without a Divine act of creation. Yet in this account of it there is that which accords with the experience of our own human consciousness. For I know that within the little spheres in which I too am an originator, a sort of creator, it is in my will that the primary force resides. And so that sublime succession of edicts, "Let there be light," "Let the earth bring forth," etc. And, on the other hand, the word of a speaker, while it utters his will, must at the same time reveal his mind, it must reflect more or less consciously his inner self, his real nature. Words are the medium through which we convey to another our feelings and our thoughts, and the Word of God must be a manifestation of His nature. If He breaks silence it is to make Himself known; He cannot speak without unveiling what He is, He cannot speak but truth and beauty and goodness must be expressed. But now this revelation of God through the things that are made, great and glorious as it is, does not suffice to accomplish the grand purpose towards man — man the crowning work of His hands, the being whom He has endowed with that sublime mysterious faculty of knowing and loving and imitating Him. It is not enough to draw man into communion with Him. And this is what God seeks. He can be satisfied with nothing less. Over and above the great advertisement of deity in nature, a moral revelation was required, and a moral revelation has been given. And it is of surpassing interest to note how, up to a certain point, the new revelation proceeds upon the lines of the old. First of all, that absolute unity of plan of which science is continually perfecting the demonstration — a unity which is now known to extend as far as the planets in their spheres — bears witness that the Creator is one. More and more clearly we are learning to read the action of one and the same mind through the whole range of created things. Is not this truth in complete accordance with the voice of Scripture? The Bible proceeds from its first utterance to its last on the unity of God. Again, throughout all nature, we find a will at work whose method is to bind itself by an orderly plan of fixed law. Now, what is the revelation of the Divine will in the Bible? It is the revelation of a law and its chief end is the redemption of moral anarchy and deviation from moral order. In the God of the Decalogue, in the God of the Sermon on the Mount, we recognize the God of law intolerant of all that is arbitrary, eccentric, lawless, the God of system and obedience. And, once more, we are daily learning how patiently, and through what a long process the physical universe has been built up, as though to this eternal work a thousand years were not of any more account than a single day so long as the results are achieved by method and evolution rather than by sudden shocks and intervention. Look at the structure of our own dwelling-place. Sir Charles Lyell has even estimated the time at two hundred millions of years. The mind faints in the effort to take in these stupendous figures. But do we not find that He works in the realm of grace as in the realm of nature with equal tenacity and patience? Through long millenniums He has kept in hand the same task. He has carried on His moral creation. The education of the race has been spread over ages. By divers manners God has imparted to man the knowledge of His will, and shown him his own destiny as the heir of immortality. And yet, again, the God of nature vindicates the sacredness of the physical law by penalty for transgression of it on the part of a sentient creature. God does not interpose in nature between the cause and its consequence, and the Bible pictures God to us as equally intolerant of any breach of His moral order. He cannot connive at disobedience. "He will by no means clear the guilty." "Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap." "He that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done, and there is no respect of persons." Thus far it may be said that the two revelations walk abreast and proclaim one and the same message. But, thanks be to God, the second revelation goes on while the first stops. God commendeth His love to us His erring, rebellious, fallen creatures, in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us; when we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son. In this marvellous revelation of redeeming love we clearly mount a great step above nature, we are lifted to a new and loftier plane of thought, we are passed behind the veil, we enter the inner circumference of the Divine nature. Nature does indeed declare the glory of God. But here is the more excellent glory, here the display of a higher tribute than nature can interpret. What tidings so joyful as that of the new creation, the new heaven and the new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness?

(Canon Duckworth.)

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KJV: O LORD, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.

WEB: Yahweh, how many are your works! In wisdom have you made them all. The earth is full of your riches.