Psalms 72:3

The mountains shall bring peace to the people, and the little hills, by righteousness.

Mountain peace

Sympathy between the moral and physical worlds pervades the whole of Scripture and especially this seventy-second psalm. The beauty of the redeemed soul will be reflected, as it was at the first, in the beauty of a regenerated earth. Man will be then like another Adam in another Eden. Through the righteous rule of the new King of Israel, the physical features of the land of promise are pictured as contributing to the tranquillity and happiness of its people. Mountains in olden times were associated with gloom and terror. Imagination saw in them shapes of evil, and they seemed to belong to an alien, accursed land. Scenes of grandeur which the traveller will traverse half the globe to gaze upon with rapture were of old avoided altogether, or passed quickly through with shuddering dread. But we do not feel so now. The causes of this are varied. Increase of population, facility for travel, the pressure of crowded city life making us long for the quiet and grandeur of nature, increase of knowledge, etc. Now, in our text the security which mountains give is mainly referred to. Hence we learn--

I. The peace which they give is the peace of safety. In the plains man is exposed to attack on all sides, but amongst the mountains nature is his defence. See the Waldenses, Covenanters, Jews. For Palestine is an alpine land; hence in Babylon the exiles thought of their mountains as they sang, “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.”

II. And of elevation. It is in the heights of the soul that we can get true and lasting peace. On the low levels of sense life we are as was he who went down to Jericho--stripped and wounded by the evils of life. Man’s moral career has run parallel with his physical. He descended from the mountain ranges of Asia to her level plains, and to Egypt; and so has it been spiritually. But we cannot be satisfied there. We must ascend again, cost what it will. Then we regain peace to our souls. If the strain of the ascent be great, so is the peace likewise. For on the height we are above the changes of this world. The soul that dwells ever on high has perpetual sunshine.

III. And it is the peace of compensation. The heavens come near and expand as the earth recedes and lessens. The men who saw most of heaven were they who possessed the least of earth. See Moses.

IV. Unification. From the mountain top we see the whole landscape, not merely isolated portions. And so to ascend into the hill of the Lord is to see our life as a whole, and how parts of it that have distressed us belong to the goodly whole.

V. Isolation. Mountains are as retreats from the fevered conventional life of cities. We can be alone with God, as in the secret chamber. So has it been wit, h all God’s great saints, they ascended often where the noisy echoes of the world did not penetrate, and where only the still small voices of the sanctuary were heard. As we rise in spiritual life, the more lonely do we become. Our citizenship is in heaven. (Hugh Macmillan, D. D.)

The use of great men

The king is as a mountain. It is the meaning and the vindication of all greatness--of position, intellect, or character--that the great should live for the humble.

I. The use of great men. Consider the uses of mountains. Besides their value as the bulwarks of a country, their services in kindling patriotism and educating feeling, they have very homely uses. They catch for us the sunshine, at once radiating and tempering the light and heat; the dews of heaven rest on them; underneath their mosses the rain lingers, filling the springs, trickling in runlets that supply the rivers; they bear the snows that all through the early summer refresh the heated land, and when autumn comes they precipitate the thunder showers and draw the passing wealth of storms; they bear the fury of the tempest, and shield the valleys from hurricane and hail; the lightning smites them harmless, which else might shiver homesteads and destroy the beasts; their waste supplies the lack of the lowlands; rich vegetable soil is washed from them over the hungry fields; the sands which descend from them bank in the rivers; of their stones the husbandman makes his fences, and from their forests he makes his tools. Mighty mountains--useful as mighty, benignant as strong; useful because so mighty, peaceful because so strong. I am not going to draw out these analogies at length, though every one of them is capable of copious exposition; t would simply say we need great men. There are many things the world wants done which only a few can do. We rest under the shadow of a truly great man as shepherds underneath a friendly mountain. If great men will only help the lowly, they may be sure of trusting friends. The strong is sure to be followed by the weaker. We want the tender to soothe troubled hearts; the saint to help us with his prayers. Both in their privileges and their trials great men are not inaptly symbolized by mountains. It is not that God does not care for the lowly; it is not that, like the blossoms on a fruit tree, only a few are reserved for ripening, and it matters not what becomes of the rest. God has not given the many to the few. He has given the few to and for the many. And if a great man does not care to learn the lesson, he is great no longer. There is no enduring greatness save in righteousness. But if it is idle to deny the advantages of greatness, it is unthankful to forget its trials. Freedom from meaner cares means exposure to strong temptations. The wind sweeps round the mountain top when the valley below is still; and humbler souls know nothing of the struggles that shake the lofty. Two distinct elements of character must meet in every one who shall be great with this protecting, helping greatness--courage of Soul enough to bear the tribulation--graciousness of character enough to count their anguish light, and remember it no more in readiness to be made helpful. Many a sour man is a great man marred in the making; the truly great must have not only ready courage and triumphant patience, they must have also unfaltering faith, unchanging love.

II. The sources of greatness in a man. They are two--righteousness and tenderness. The office of a judge is here set before us as the noblest human office; protective justice is the thing which makes a man like the great mountains (A. Mackennal, D. D.)

Peace by power

This an unusual view of the conditions of peace. We expect impressions of tranquillity in the lowlier, not the loftier places of a landscape. The doctrine of the text is, that the quiet of the human soul is to be found not in descending to its lower and feebler states, but in the freedom of its highest qualities, and through its stronger exercises; or, that Christian peace is an attainment of the spiritual energies, and not a mere acquiescence in inferiority. See the Saviour’s promise, “My peace I give unto you.” But how did He obtain this peace? Was it not by way of the Cross? Power of character is before happiness. We are to be suspicious of effeminate contentments. Look again at the image of our text. The three obvious attributes of mountains are elevation, magnitude, permanency. Now, in just such attributes of human character are we to find real peace. Spiritual serenity is spiritual strength. The most intrepid are the most pacific. Magnanimity makes no quarrels. (F. D. Huntington, D. D.)

Peace on the mountain

The reason for choosing the mountain for prayer is poetic, but it is more than poetic, it is also practical. There one can be alone and quite still; the sights and sounds of earth are far down below in the valley. And as one is quite still one gets closer to God. Instinctively we think of our heavenly Father as in the sky above us; and so far as we may we approach His kingdom more closely by getting up into the mountain. This you may say is simply poetic, imaginative, but it has a spiritual aspect too, inasmuch as the lifting up of the nature in spirit to heavenly things disposes it to pray with greater realization of the Divine presence, and less of distraction from earthly anxieties. It suggests a beautiful thought that our Lord should thus choose the most retired and ideal spots for His prayers. Because He needed no accessories of this kind. He could without difficulty withdraw Himself from the sights and sounds of earth which would be distracting to others. His devotions could not really be hindered by these things; yet inasmuch as He had taken upon Him the form of a servant, He willed to use all the helps to spiritual living which the Father has provided for His servants. It is the mountain considered as the place of prayer, which is to bring us peace in this world. The outer life is not likely to be peaceful, so far as temporal conditions are concerned. The sphere of human existence is almost invariably a troubled one. The peace is to be found within. And how can one secure it for himself? I know of no way except that of prayer. The thought of the mountains may suggest to us characteristics of genuine prayer, too little accented by us generally. The heart must be still to speak with God, all alone with Him, and pervaded with a sense of the nearness and the solemnity of His presence. When we pray after this sort the peace of God steals gradually over one’s whole nature. The tribulations of life do not vanish, the anxieties are still there, but in the transfiguring light of the sense of the Divine nearness they no longer seem unbearable, no longer hopeless. If one really can feel that God cares, and is watching over him, he cannot be greatly disturbed by anything which happens in this present world. No evil spirit or wicked man, no blow of fate can take God from him or him from God, and one needs no more than that. Prayer rightly used throws all about this common weary life of ours a heavenly atmosphere, a halo of the eternal love and goodness. Everything in that celestial haze assumes its true relation to the immortal creature; the temporal things become the dreams, the illusions of a moment; the eternal things are the verities, and in them nought dwells but peace. (Arthur Ritchie.)