Psalms 124:8

THE DIVINE HELPER

‘Our help is in the name of the Lord.’

Psalms 124:8

I. Happy will my soul be, if it can truly sing this old song of the exiles delivered from Babylon.

Once the wild beasts of prey threatened to swallow it alive. Their jaws gaped and yawned to receive it. But the Lord, the Mighty One, delivered it out of the mouth of the Lion. It is escaped.

Once the furious swollen torrent swept over it. It seemed as if it must bear on its tawny bosom the ruins of all the soul’s labours and the very life and hope of the soul itself. But the Lord, with His strong right arm, snatched it from the waters and set it on the rock. It is escaped.

Once the snare of the fowler caught and entangled it in its pitiless meshes. It was a poor, trembling, feeble bird. It was a fluttering and helpless creature. Its wings were bruised. But the Lord’s hand broke the snare. The wings are spread for flight once more. The song rises buoyantly and joyously into the blue. It is escaped.

One metaphor will not bring out the gladness of my soul, if it have tasted the rich delights of the Lord’s emancipation. It will summon up parable after parable. It will paint picture after picture. And they will all be insufficient.

II. Come, my soul, and sing, morning by morning, a psalm like this.—Thou dwellest too much among thy fears and regrets and despondencies. Thou shouldest celebrate oftener and more loudly the mercies of thy Lord.

It will do thyself good; filling thee with humility to remember how poor and perishing thou wert once, and with gratitude as thou recallest the great things that have been done for thee, and with devotion to the Saviour who has loved thee so well, and with hope that He who has been with thee in six troubles will not forsake thee in the seventh. It will do the world good; its citizens will learn the folly of fighting against thy Helper and Sovereign, and will be taught by thee to submit themselves to Him before His wrath begin to burn. It will do Christ good; for He loves to hear the triumph-hymn of a throbbing heart, that commemorates the wondrousness of His deliverance, and that vows and dedicates itself to Him.

There are songs of country, and songs of war, and songs of adventure, and songs of love, and songs of home; but there is no song like the song of salvation. I am mute and dumb too frequently; let me tell out the story of how my soul is escaped like a bird from the snare of the fowler. Let me bring forth the royal diadem, and crown Him—crown Him—crown Him Lord of all.

Illustration

‘When we look back on life, as the Psalmist does here, we become aware of the myriad instances of Divine protection. We were not so vividly conscious at the time; we might even have had fits of depression and counted ourselves bereft. But if we narrowly consider the perils from which we have been rescued, when we were about to be swallowed up quick, we see that He was there. In life and death and judgment, Jesus, your Advocate, will ever stand at your side and silence all who would condemn.’