Treasury of David - Psalms 124:8 - 124:8

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Treasury of David - Psalms 124:8 - 124:8


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This Chapter Verse Commentaries:

8 Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

“Our help,” our hope for the future, our ground of confidence in all trials present and to come. “Is in the name of the Lord.” Jehovah's revealed character is our foundation of confidence, his person is our sure fountain of strength. “Who made heaven and earth.” Our Creator is our preserver. He is immensely great in his creating work; he has not fashioned a few little things alone, but all heaven and the whole round earth are the works of his hands. When we worship the Creator let us increase our trust in our Comforter. Did he create all that we see, and can he not preserve us from evils which we cannot see? Blessed be his name, he that has fashioned us will watch over us; yea, he has done so, and rendered us help in the moment of jeopardy. He is our help and our shield, even he alone. He will to the end break every snare. He made heaven for us, and he will keep us for heaven; he made the earth, and he will succour us upon it until the hour cometh for our departure. Every work of his hand preaches to us the duty and the delight of reposing upon him only. All nature cries, “Trust ye in the Lord for ever, for in the Lord Jehovah there is everlasting strength.” “Wherefore comfort one another with these words.”

The following versification of the sense rather than the words of this Psalm is presented to the reader with much diffidence: -

Had not the Lord, my soul may cry,

Had not the Lord been on my side;

Had he not brought deliverance nigh,

Then must my helpless soul have died.

Had not the Lord been on my side,

My soul had been by Satan slain;

And Tophet, opening large and wide,

Would not have gaped for me in vain.

Lo, floods of wrath, and floods of hell,

In fierce impetuous torrents roll;

Had not the Lord defended well,

The waters had o'erwhelm'd my soul.

As when the fowler's snare is broke,

The bird escapes on cheerful wings;

My soul, set free from Satan's yoke,

With joy bursts forth, and mounts and sings.

She sings the Lord her Saviour's praise;

Sings forth his praise with joy and mirth;

To him her song in heaven she'll raise,

To him that made both heaven and earth.