Psalm 36:1-12 The transgression of the wicked said within my heart, that there is no fear of God before his eyes.… The earlier verses of the psalm are concerned with an analysis of the method and destructiveness of sin. The first four verses describe the successful ravages which sin makes in human life. They give us a diagnosis of evil, from its earliest appearance in the germ to its complete and final triumph. Now how does sin begin? I must take some little liberty with the wording of the psalm before me. I suppose it is one of the most difficult of all the psalms to translate. You will find, if you will look at the marginal rendering in the R.V., that for almost every clause the translators have given us an alternative reading which greatly differs from the reading placed in the text. I choose the marginal reading of the first clause, which, I think, gives us the germ, the first appearances, the beginnings of sin in human life. "Transgression uttereth its oracle," speaks within himself in tones of imperious authority, lays down certain assurances, interpolates certain suggestions, and clothes them with imperial authority. The devil begins his ministry by oracular suggestions, by mysterious whispers, subtle enticements to sin. That is the germinal work of the devil; a mystic, secret oracle seeking to entice the life into ways of sin. The secret enticement is followed by equally subtle stratagem. "He" (that is, the oracle) "flattereth him in his eyes that his iniquity shall not be found out and be hated." Two things the oracle says, and he says them with imperial authority. First, that sin shall not be found out, and secondly, that therefore there is no fear of reprobation. It is only a repetition of a word with which we are very familiar in the earlier portion of the old Book. "Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die? .... Ye shall not surely die!" Now pass to the third step in the great degeneracy. The man has been listening to the secret oracle. He has been flattered by its suggestiveness. He is now persuaded by the enticement, and the moral degradation begins apace. "The words" — the first things to be smitten — "The words of his mouth are iniquity and deceit." The first thing that happens as soon as a man listens to the devil is that the bloom goes off the truthfulness of his life. He now enters the realm of equivocation and deceit, his seduction begins to show its fruit at the lips. "He hath left off to be wise"; then he loseth sense; he does not now exercise common sense; he shuts one eye! His intelligence is narrowed, contracted and curtailed. But still further: "He hath left off to do good." The loss of brotherhood! He may continue to give money; but he has ceased to give self. The claims of philanthropic service no longer appeal to his spirit, they pass by unheeded and ignored. Arid now see what further happens in the stages of moral decay. "He deviseth iniquity"; his imagination becomes defiled. "He setteth himself in a way that is not good. His will becomes enslaved. "He adhorreth not evil." He has now reached the plain of moral benumbment; his moral palate has been defiled; the distinction between sweet and bitter is no longer apparent, sweet and bitter taste alike. He has no abhorrence of evil, and he has no sweet pleasure in the good. He has lost his power of moral discernment; he is morally indifferent, and almost morally dead. Such is the diagnosis of sin, beginning in the whispered oracle and proceeding to absolute enslavement, passing through the intermediate stages of deception and delight. That is the moral condition of thousands. It is all round about us, and when we are confronted with its widespread devastation, what can we do? The earlier verses of this psalm, which give what I have called "a diagnosis" of sin, were never more confirmed than they are in the literature of our own Lime. The literature of our time abounds in analysis of sin. If you turn to "Tess of the D'Urbervilles," or "Jude the Obscure," you will find that Thomas Hardy is just carefully elaborating the first four verses of this psalm. But, then, my trouble is this: that when his mournful psalm comes to an end I close his book in limp and rayless bewilderment. That is where so much of our modern literature leaves me. It gives me a fine diagnosis, but no remedial power. But here is the psalmist contemplating a similar spectacle — the ravages of sin, and he himself is temporarily bewildered; he himself is bowed low in helpless and hopeless mood. What does he do? I am very glad that our Revised Version helps by the very manner in which the psalm is printed. After verse four there is a great space, as though the psalm must be almost cut in two, as though the psalmist had gone away from the contemplation of that spectacle, as indeed he has. And where has he gone? He has gone that he might quietly inquire whether the evil things he has seen are the biggest things he can find. When the psalm opens again after the pause, the psalmist is joyfully proclaiming the bigger things he has found. What are they?" Thy loving-kindness, O Lord, is in the heavens." Mark the vastness of the figures in which he seeks to enshrine the vastness of his thought. "Thy loving-kindness, O Lord, is in the heavens," bending like a mother's arms, the shining, cloudless sky! Most uncertain of all uncertainties, and yet "Thy faithfulness reacheth even unto the clouds!' Those apparent children of caprice, coming and going no one knows how, are in God's loving control, and obey the behests of His most sovereign will. "Thy righteousness is like the great mountains." How majestic the figure! The mountains, the symbols of the Eternal, abiding through the generations; looking down upon the habitations of men, undisturbed, unchanged, unmoved. Thy righteousness is like the great mountains! Not that everything becomes clear when a man talks like that; the mystery remains! "Thy judgments," Thy ways of doing things, "Thy judgments are a great deep," as immense and unfathomable as the incalculable sea. But then one may endure the mystery of the deep when one is sure about the mountain. When you know that His faithfulness even ruleth the clouds, you can trust the fickle sea, Where had he been to discover these wonderful things? He is not recounting a bald catalogue of Divine attributes; he is announcing a testimony born of a deep and real experience. Where has he been? He has been the guest of God. "Under the shadow of Thy wings." The security of it! The absolute perfectness of the shelter! The warmth of it! The untroubled peace of it! He has been in God's house, sheltering there as a chick under its mother's wings. And then he tells us what he received in the house, what he had when he was a guest, when he was hiding under the wings: "They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of Thy house." "Fatness is the top, it is the cream of all spiritual delicacies." It is the first, the prime thing! "They shall be abundantly satisfied" with the delicacies of Thy table! "Thou shalt make them drink of the river of Thy pleasures." It is not only what there is upon the table; it is the conversation and the fellowship at the board. Thy speech, Thy fellowship, Thy whispers, Thy promises, they just flow out into their souls like a river, and their joy shall be full. "With Thee is the fountain of life!" He was beginning to feel alive again; he was beginning to feel vitalized and renewed. "I am getting inspired again." And then he added: "In Thy light," my living God, "in Thy light shall we see light" to do our work away yonder in the fields of sin I The very two things he wanted: life and light I Inspiration and counsel! Encouragement and hope! As the psalmist turned from the Presence Chamber to confront again the spectacle of depravity, he offered a prayer, and this was his prayer: "O continue Thy loving-kindness unto them that know Thee, and Thy righteousness to the upright in heart!" And then, as though he was afraid that when he got back to the waste again, and to the sin again, he himself might be overcome, caught up in the terrible drift and carried along, he added this prayer: "Let not the foot of pride come against me." Do not let me get into the general tendency of things, and by the general tendency be carried away! He offered a prayer that these cardinal things, the greatest things, might abide with him, and that when he went away into the world's waste field he might be able to stand. And so this man came out of the secret chamber a knight of God! He goes back, like all men ought to go hack to their work when they have been in the presence chamber of God. We ought to turn to our work singing, always singing, and the songs ought to be, not songs of strife and warfare, but songs of victory. (J. H. Jowett, M.A.) Parallel Verses KJV: {To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David the servant of the LORD.} The transgression of the wicked saith within my heart, that there is no fear of God before his eyes. |
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