Chapter IV: Refuge in God.1

Be thou my strong rock, for a house of defence to save me.--Ps. xxxi. 2.

On a superb arch in one of the halls of the Alhambra, the traveller reads as he enters: "I seek my refuge in the Lord of the morning." The sentiment is worthy of Holy Scripture, whence doubtless it was taken by the writer of the Koran. More than two thousand years earlier than Mohammed, Moses had said to the beloved tribes, just before he ascended to his mountain death-bed: "The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath thee are the everlasting arms." And how often does King David, environed with dangers and oppressed with sorrows, comfort himself with the assurance of an almighty protection and support! "Thou art my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower." "In the time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion; in the secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me; he shall set me up upon a rock; and now shall my head be lifted up above mine enemies that are round about me." "Thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy; I will abide in thy tabernacle forever, I will trust in the covert of thy wings." "Thou art my hiding-place: thou wilt preserve me from trouble; thou wilt compass me about with songs of deliverance." And so in a hundred other passages of his psalms, and notably in the words we have chosen as the basis of this discourse: "Be thou my strong rock, for a house of defence to save me." In all such utterances, there seems to be some reference to the Hebrew cities of refuge, whither the manslayer fled from the avenger of blood, where he remained unmolested till he could have an impartial hearing, and whence, if found innocent of premeditated murder, he finally came forth acquitted amidst the congratulations of his family and friends. Here is the double idea of escape from persecution and security from punishment; and with reference to both these, the psalmist seeks his refuge in the Lord of the morning.

The first idea is refuge from persecution. David's persecutions were varied, and violent, and long continued. How sadly he tells the story, and pours out his melting soul in song! Deceitful and bloody men, full of all subtlety and malignity, compassed him about like bees, like strong bulls of Bashan, like a troop of lions from the desert. Daily they imagined mischief against him, and consulted together to cast him down from his excellency. They laid to his charge things which he knew not. To the spoiling of his soul, they rewarded him evil for good. With hypocritical mockers in feasts, they gnashed upon him with their teeth. As with a sword in his bones, they reproached him; saying continually, "Where is now thy God?" In his adversity they openly rejoiced, and with his misfortunes made themselves merry. They persecuted him whom God had smitten, and talked to the grief of him whom the Most High had wounded. With cruel hatred they hated him; yea, they tore him in pieces, and ceased not.

With these woful complaints agree the recorded facts of his life. One while we see him pursued like a partridge upon the mountains by the royal army, with his royal father-in-law at its head; from whom he escapes only by frequent flight, concealment in caverns, and weary sojourn at the court of a pagan king. And later in life we behold him driven from his throne, and chased from house and hold, by his own insurgent son; while Shimmei comes forth to curse the weeping fugitive, and cast stones at the Lord's anointed; and Ahithophel, his former familiar friend and courtly _confidant_, with whom he has often taken sweet counsel and walked in the house of God, lifts up the heel against him, and basely goes over to the standard of the conspirators.

No wonder he exclaims, as with the sigh of a breaking heart: "Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul. I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing; I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me. I am weary of my crying; my throat is dried; mine eyes fail, while I wait for my God. They that hate me without cause are more than the hairs of my head; they that would destroy me, being mine enemies wrongfully, are mighty.... Thou hast known my reproach, and my shame, and my dishonor. Reproach hath broken my heart, and I am full of heaviness. And I looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none."[2] "I mourn in my complaint and make a noise, because of the enemy, because of the oppression of the wicked; for they cast iniquity upon me, and in wrath they hate me. My heart is sore pained within me, and the terrors of death are fallen upon me; fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and horror hath overwhelmed me. Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I flee away, and be at rest; lo! then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness; I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest."[3]

Vain wish, O disquieted and trembling soul! No wings, no distance, no solitude, can save thee. Nearer at hand thou shalt find thy refuge, even in the Lord of the morning. And well knows the persecuted king where to look for succor and consolation. "O Lord, my God! in thee do I put my trust. Save me from them that persecute me, and deliver me; lest he tear my soul like a lion, rending it in pieces, while there is none to deliver."[4] "Show thy marvellous loving-kindness, O thou that savest by thy right hand them that put their trust in thee from those who rise up against them! Keep me as the apple of thine eye, hide me under the shadow of thy wing, from the wicked that oppress me, from my deadly enemies who compass me about."[5] "Plead my cause, O Lord! with them that strive with me; fight against them that fight against me. Take hold of shield and buckler, and stand up for my help; draw out also the spear, and stop the way against them that persecute me. Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation."[6]

How expressive is all this of utter helplessness, and reliance upon the living God! What fervent prayer is here! what faith in a personal power and a special providence which no human agency can baffle or resist! Proud mortals! talk no more of the strong will, the valiant arm, the dauntless courage, and your own self-sufficiency! "Cursed is the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm." "Trust ye in the Lord forever, for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength." What is the strategy of generals and the prowess of armies, to him "who rideth upon the heavens in thy help, and in his excellency on the sky"? Faith as a grain of mustard-seed is better than all your military science, and the prayer of the humblest peasant is mightier than embattled millions. The prayer of faith divides the sea, cleaves the granite, marshals the troops of the tempest, and makes the angels of God our allies. "When I call upon thee, then shall mine enemies be put to flight; this I know, for God is on my side." Such is David's confidence; such, my brethren, be ours! Is not every attribute of Jehovah in league with the devout believer, and all his infinite resources pledged to the support of his servants? And without any doubt of a divine hearing or fear of ultimate failure, every persecuted Christian may pray to the God of David: "Be thou my strong rock, for a house of defence to save me."

The second idea is refuge from punishment. The chief element of David's distress is a painful consciousness of guilt. It is conscience that wrings the wormwood for him into every cup of sorrow. It is remorse for past transgression that turns his tears into gall and makes his persecutions intolerable. Pure and innocent, he might defy his enemies, he might glory in tribulations. But he is forced to regard the wicked as God's sword for the punishment of his sins; and in all his pleadings we hear the voice of the penitent--sad confessions, bitter self-reproaches, touching appeals to the mercy of Heaven. "Lord, what wait I for? My hope is in thee. Deliver me from my transgressions; make me not a reproach of the foolish.... Remove thy stroke away from me; I am consumed by the blow of thy hand."[7] "Deliver me out of the mire, and let me not sink. Let not the water-flood overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up. Hear me, O Lord! for thy loving-kindness is good. Turn unto me, according to the multitude of thy tender mercies; and hide not thy face from thy servant, for I am in trouble. Hear me speedily."[8]

A good man, we all know, may be surprised by temptation, and so fall into grievous sin. Thus some of God's holiest servants have committed enormous crimes. Not the single or occasional act, however, constitutes character; but the habit of a man's life--his dominant impulse and prevailing tendency. To judge St. Peter, for example, by the one solitary instance of defection, were manifestly unfair; when his whole course, up to that moment, and ever afterward, was marked by uncompromising fidelity to the Master, with the most heroic daring and enduring in his service. Far more just were it to estimate the man by the tears which he wept when the reproving glance brought home the guilt to his conscience, and by his subsequent earnest endeavors to undo the evil he had done and honor the Saviour he had denied.

Apply this principle to the royal penitent. Who ever more truly loved God, or more honestly sought to serve him? Was not holy obedience the tenor and tendency of his life? If he erred in numbering the people--if he took Uriah's wife to his bosom, and slew the husband to conceal the crime--it was under the power of peculiar temptation, which we, having never experienced, are quite incapable of estimating; and those deplorable deeds are the only recorded exceptions--the manifest violent contradictions--to a long life of singular piety, purity and uprightness. And now, made sensible of his sin, mark you how bitterly he grieves for it, and how earnestly he groans for its forgiveness:--

"Have mercy upon me, O God! according to thy loving-kindness; according to the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight; that thou mayest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.... Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Make me to hear joy and gladness, that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God! and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence, and take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and uphold me with thy free Spirit. Then will I teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners shall be converted unto thee. Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God! thou God of my salvation! and my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness."[9]

What keen remorse and penitential shame are here! Was there ever a more ingenuous confession, a more thorough contrition, a more profound humility, or a more utter self-despair? The royal sinner seems to see the sin in all its hideousness, and to hate it with unutterable hatred. He seeks no subterfuge, attempts no extenuation; but charges the guilt home, with all its aggravations, upon his own soul. Never can he forgive his folly, nor weep tears, enough to express his sorrow for the fault.

Would to Heaven we might all thus feel our guilt, and haste to the shelter of the divine mercy! Sinners--great sinners--are we all. Is there one of us that has not sinned more deeply than David ever did? And, instead of being an exceptional act, our sin has been the habit of our lives. Justice, with double-flaming sword, is hard upon our heels. What shall we do, or whither turn, for safety? To thee, O Crucified Love! we come; and, with broken hearts, cast ourselves down at thy feet. All other saviours we renounce: all other merits we disclaim; all other sacrifices we abjure. Thou of God art made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. Perishing, we implore thy mercy. Take us to the arms that were stretched upon the cross. Hide us in the heart that was opened by the soldier's spear. When we faint in the valley of the shadow of death, let us feel the assuring pressure of the nail-pierced hand. When the heavens are flaming above and the earth is dissolving beneath, "be thou our strong rock, for a house of defence to save us"!

[1] Preached in Ithaca, N.Y., 1838.

[2] Ps. lxix. 1-4, 19, 20.

[3] Ps. lv. 2-8.

[4] Ps. vii. 1, 2.

[5] xvii. 7, 8.

[6] xxxv. 1-3.

[7] Ps. xxxvii, 7, 8, 10.

[8] Ps. lxix. 14-17.

[9] Ps. li. 1-4, 7-14.