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If a man were a mere animal he would not need the comfort which thought may bring, outward things would be enough. Let but the trough be full and the swine are happy; the pasture abundant and the sheep are content. But man needs far more. His greatest joy or misery must proceed from inner springs. Hence the importance, but also the labour and difficulty of guarding our thoughts, for they are unstable, unruly, fickle, swift, impetuous, changeable as the clouds of heaven. How then shall we do this? Let the text tell us. It speaks —

I. OF MULTITUDINOUS THOUGHTS AND SACRED COMFORTS. None of these thoughts, then, are those which are tumultuous in the night of trial. At such times it is a great blessing if God's comforts are, as they may be, our stay and holdfast. They were so to David (vers. 9, 12, 14). And he calls to mind his own experience. "Unless the Lord had been my help," etc. "Thy mercy, O Lord, held me up." Such thoughts as these in times of tumult will not merely console, but delight the soul. Perplexing thoughts and periods of dilemma. It is with some as with Israel at the Red Sea. The sea before them, the rocks on either hand, and the cruel Egyptians in the rear. In such cases there is nothing for it but to "stand still and see the salvation of God." Remember that often all thy way is ordered by a higher power than thine. Our Pilot never sleeps, and His hand never relaxes its grasp. Remorseful thoughts in the hour of recollection. Who can be without these when he passes his life in review? Can there be forgiveness for all these? Then the comforts of God come to us in Jesus. Thoughts of heart-searching in seasons of spiritual anxiety. And of foreboding in days of depression. Lift high the banner, "Jehovah Jireh." It must be well with us, it cannot be ill. Occasionally we have thoughts profound in times of meditation. There are many great mysteries in the Word of God, and foolish persons utterly befog themselves with them; some minds seem never to be satisfied until they find something which they cannot comprehend, and then they are ready to give up the Bible altogether; they act like one who should come in to a feast, and after turning over all the good things, should at last find a bone with no meat upon it, and should insist upon it that he would not eat a morsel until he could digest that particular bone. But I bless God for a religion which I cannot perfectly understand.

II. VIEW THESE SACRED COMFORTS. View them in their nature. They are connected with God — the Father, Son, Holy Ghost. When Archbishop Whately was dying, a friend said to him, "Sir, you are great in death as well as in life." The good man shook his head and replied, "I am dying, as I have lived, a simple believer in Jesus Christ." "But what a blessing it is," said the other, "that your glorious intellect does not fail you at the last." "There is nothing glorious," said he, "but Jesus Christ." "Still," said the other, "your grand endurance is a great support to you." "I have no support but faith in the crucified Saviour," said he. Comfort comes from the Lord alone. And these comforts have stability. Many consolations are like the life-buoys heard of a while ago, which are exceedingly useful on dry land, but of no service whatever when once a man trusts his life to them in the sea. But not so God's comforts. And they are efficient. They delight "my soul," my very self. And they delight, not merely sustain and quiet the soul.

III. A CONTRAST. For many never think at all. Their thoughts, if they have any, are like a swarm of gnats, volatile, dancing up and down, light, useless. Oh, that men would think! Once there was a canoe afloat on Niagara, but some miles off the fall. As the current carried it on, people on the bank could see that the paddle was shipped and an Indian lying in the canoe fast asleep. They shouted as loud as they could to awake him, for they well knew what dread peril he was in. They ran along the bank shouting and calling to him, but it was of no use. He had either been drinking or was so fatigued that his slumber was most profound, and the canoe went on, continually increasing its pace. It dashed at last against a headland, and spun round in the torrent, and they said one to another, "He is safe; the man will be awakened. Such a start as that must rouse him up, and he will paddle out of danger." But no, he went right on till the roaring of the fall was near, and then the course of the boat was so rapid that none could keep up with it, and it went whirling on faster and faster. So profound was the Indian's sleep, that for a while even the roar of the fall did not awaken him, but at last he was aroused, and then he grasped his paddle; but it was all too late; he was borne onward, and the last that was seen of him was his standing bolt upright in the boat as it plunged over the abyss, and was never seen or heard of more. Ah! how like is this to those of you who are asleep, and are borne onward by the treacherous current. That fever, that sick-bed, like a headland jutting into the stream, methought it would have made you think. That frail bark of thine was twisted round and round. O that thy soul had been but aroused from its slumber. The noise of hell may well be in thy ears, and the sound that cometh up from the abyss of terror may well arouse thee; but alas, I fear, thou wilt sleep on until escape be no longer possible. But may God forbid.

( C. H. Spurgeon.)

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KJV: In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delight my soul.

WEB: In the multitude of my thoughts within me, your comforts delight my soul.