Spurgeon Verse Expositions - Psalms 42:1 - 42:11

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Spurgeon Verse Expositions - Psalms 42:1 - 42:11


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This Chapter Verse Commentaries:

We often read this Psalm, because we are very often in the same state that the psalmist was in when he wrote it, and the language seems to suit us at many periods of our life.

Psa_42:1. As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.

It is the “hart” that panteth; and, in the Hebrew, the word is in the feminine. The old naturalists say that the female has greater thirst than the male, and that it shows it more, having more feebleness of body, and less power of endurance. The hart is said to be, naturally, a thirsty creature, and when it has been long hunted, its thirst seems to be insatiable. The psalmist does not say, “thy soul hungereth,” but, “My soul thirsteth.” As man can bear hunger much longer than he can bear thirst; he may continue without food for days, but not without drink; so the psalmist mentions the most thirsty creature, and the most ardent of the natural passions: “As the hart panteth after the water brooks.” He does not merely say, “after the brooks;” but, “after the water brooks.” Why is this? I think it is because there are many brooks that are dry at certain seasons, and the hart longeth for those that have water in them. So the Christian thirsts, not only for the means of grace; they are the brooks, but he longs for God in the means. When grace is in the means of grace, then they are water brooks indeed. “So panteth my soul after thee O God.” He does not say, “So I pant after my former grandeur,” or “so pant I for my friend,” but “so panteth my heart after thee.” His soul had only one longing, one thirst, and every power and every passion had united itself to that one desire, “so panteth my soul after thee, O God.”

Psa_42:2. My soul thirsteth for God, —

It was a soul thirst, not a throat thirst; the thirst had got as far down as the soul, till the inner spirit was as dry as a man’s throat after a long journey through the desert. “My soul thirsteth for God,”

Psa_42:2. For the living God:

David had thirsted, you remember, for water from the well of Bethlehem that is within the gate, and he said, “Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate!” But that was not living water; he had drunk of it before, yet he thirsted again, but now his soul thirsted for God, for the living God. Nothing but the cool refreshing living water of the living God can ever effectually quench human thirst.

Psa_42:2. When shall I come and appear before God?

He valued the assembly of God’s people because he believed that, there in an especial manner, he was “before God.” What a rebuke this is to those who despise public worship! We know some who say, “Well, we can read a good sermon at home, we can study the Scriptures there.” David was a great lover of God’s Word, and read it both day and night, yet even he could not dispense with the outward means of grace, the public assembly of the saints. “When shall I come and appear before God?” Brothers and sisters, let us look upon our gatherings for worship as an appearance before God. You do not merely come to listen to the Lord’s minister, or to join in the sacred song of the congregation, but you come to “appear before God,” that you may show yourself to him as his servants, and that he may reveal himself to you as your Lord. When you and I have been tossing upon the bed of languishing, or have been detained upon the sea, or have journeyed abroad, then we have learned to prize the means of grace more than ever.

Psa_42:3. My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?

The psalmist had sorrow within, and persecution without, and a Christian sometimes has to eat salt meat. “My tears have been my meat.” He finds but very little sweetness or solace in such food as this; yet, after all, there is much in a Christian’s tears. It is a comfort to be able to shed tears of repentance, and tears of longing after God. There are some believers who still have tears for their meat, yet they can say, “Thank God we are not dead if we can weep, we are not utterly left of God, if we can sigh after him; and so, though our tears are salt, they are nourishing to the spirit.” “My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, “Where is thy God?” This is what our enemies always say to us when we are in trouble. This is what Queen Mary said when the Covenanters were obliged to fly to the Highlands. “Where now is John Knox’s God?” But when her French soldiers were afterwards put to the rout by the brave Scots, she found out where God was. This was the taunt at the St. Bartholomew massacre in France. As they stabbed the Protestants the Papists cried, “Where is your God?” What a mercy it is that they do say this, for nothing brings God so soon to his people as the stunts of their enemies. If any man supposes that God has forgotten his people, and therefore insults them thus, God will come to them post-haste to rectify the mistake. “Where is thy God?” He is coming to thee, O Christian; he is near thee now!

Psa_42:4. When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: for I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holy day.

You see, brethren, the more a man enjoys the means of grace at one time, the more he grieves when he loses them. “I had gone with the multitude.” There is something very inspiring in worshipping God in a crowd; the joy is infectious, there is a holy contagion in it; as the sacred song floats upward from many joyous voices, we seem borne up upon its billows of praise. I like that word “holy day” even though it is rather like holiday, for our holy days should be our true holidays. There should be no rest to the Christian like the holiness of the Sabbath, the holiness should be the very joy of it. Keep it a holy day, and then it will be a holiday; try to make it a holiday, and then it will be neither a holiday nor a holy day. At the remembrance of these past joys, the psalmist’s soul was poured out like water, his heart was as water spilt upon the ground. See, brethren, how low a good man may come, and yet be safe; how near the rocks God’s ships may go, and yet not be wrecked.

Psa_42:5. Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.

As one well remarks, Christian men have a deal of indoor work to do. They have not only to question others, but they have to question themselves. “Why art thou cast down, O my soul?” Be very jealous, dear friends, of doubts, and fears, and despondency. Some of us are sometimes the subjects of these emotions, and this is pitiable; but when we try to pamper them, this is inexcusable. Endeavour to live above this disquietude; you cannot praise God, you cannot serve your fellow men, you cannot do anything well, when your soul is in a disquieted state. Hope in God is the best cure for this despondency. “Hope thou in God.” When thou hast no hope in thyself, nor in thy graces, nor in thine experience, “hope thou in God.” He is loving, faithful, powerful, and true, so “hope thou in God.” “For I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.” “My countenance is wrinkled, and covered with sores through my sickness; but he is the help of my countenance, and I shall yet praise him.”

Psa_42:6. O my God, my soul is cast down within me: therefore will I remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill Mizar.

Oh, what a mercy it is to be able to look back upon our past experiences of God’s mercy! How delightful it is to remember what the Lord was, to us in days gone by, for he is the same God still. When you are like in the great storm, when neither sun, nor moon, nor stars for many days appeared, it is very pleasant to remember that the sun, moon, and stars did shine in the past, and that they will shine forth again.

Psa_42:7. Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.

When there is a great rain at sea, there is a peculiar kind of noise, as if the deep above were talking to the deep below. “Deep calleth unto deep; and sometimes, the two deeps clasp hands, and then there is what we call a waterspout. The psalmist uses this as a picture of his sorrows, and it is very remarkable that sorrows seldom come alone. When the rain comes down on land, it calls to the little brooks, and they say, “Here we are,” and they go leaping down the hillside, and speak to the rivulets, and they say, “Here we are,” and the rivulets speak to the rivers, and they say, “Here we are,” and they speak to the gulfs, and the gulfs to the broad sea, till “deep calleth unto deep.” So, little sorrows, great sorrows, overwhelming sorrows, come to the Christian, and they all seem to come at once. Nay, not only do they come to us, but they go over us, till we cry, “All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.” Surely, this language is an exaggeration, for it is only Christ who could say that; but, sometimes, when you and I are in a low dark frame of mind, we are apt to think that we have felt all the twigs of the rod, and that we could not be made to smart more. Little do we really know of it; God grant that we may never know more than we do! Now comes an exercise for faith, to be able, when down at the bottom of the sea, like Jonah, and at the mercy of every wave, to say with the psalmist in the next verse,

Psa_42:8. Yet the LORD will command his lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.

We shall not only have day-time grace, but night-time grace, too: “In the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.” What a sweet title that is, “The God of my life,” the source of my life, the strength of my life, the comfort of my life, without whom my life is not life at all!

Psa_42:9. I will say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me?

He had been talking too much to himself; now he talks with his God.

Psa_42:9-11. Why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy? As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me; while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God? Why art thou cast down, O my soul and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him who is the health of my countenance, and my God.

Notice how the psalmist had been growing. In the fifth verse, where the refrain comes in, it is very nearly the same as it is here, yet there is some difference. There it was, “I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance,” but here it is, “I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance.” Then it was God helping the poor wrinkled brow to turn towards heaven, now it is God himself giving the man joy and rest. Then there is the last utterance of the psalmist on that occasion, “My God.” He could not reach that note before, and when the Christian can say, “My God,” his troubles are at an end.



Psa_42:1. As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.

It is said that when they cannot find water, they sometimes let loose a hart, which, flying over the desert sand, by instinct seems to scent out the water-brook. If he cannot find it, however, the stag is subject to a burning thirst. He stands and pants. His sides heave while he thirsts. So says David, “As the hart panteth (or “brayeth”) “after the water-brooks.”

Psa_42:2. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?

Not God’s worship only; not God’s people, but God himself he pants for. Oh! for such a thirst. The next best thing to having God is to have an insatiable thirst after him. Do you think a soul ever could be cast away that longed for God? Impossible. There is never a soul in hell that had any sincere longings after God. Grace is in thy heart, dear hearer. That thirst is grace if thou art longing after the living God.

Psa_42:3. My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?

“Thou art forsaken. God has forgotten thee.” At the very thought of this, he had the salt meat of his tears, and nothing else, for there is nothing that touches a Christian’s heart and wounds him to the quick like that. “Where is thy God?”

Psa_42:4-5. When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: for I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holy day. Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.

See how he clings to God in the dark. When the question cuts through his soul, “Where is thy God?” he seems to say, “I will none but him. I will follow hard after him. He is everything to me. I will be sick till he heals me. I will be in the dark till he gives me light. I look to none, but to my God.”

Psa_42:6. O my God, my soul is cast down within me: therefore will I remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill Mizar.

Or the little hill. I did know thee there. These were thy trysting-places. There didst thou meet with me, and I do remember this, and canst thou have met me in love so often, and wilt thou cast me away now? Thou didst there manifest thyself to me — as thou dost not unto the world, and thou art an unchanging lover. Wilt thou not come to me again?

Psa_42:7. Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts:

Heaven’s troubles and earth’s trials seem to clasp hands and form a waterspout. The deep of thy dark purposes seems to echo to the deep of human malice and Satanic wrath. “Deep calleth to deep.”

Psa_42:7. All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.

Thou haste concentrated an ocean upon my devoted head.

Psa_42:8. Yet.

Oh! what a glorious “yet” that is. How it swims! Never was there a swimming suit like that which is made of hope.

Psa_42:8. The LORD will command his lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.

How dear God gets to be to a gracious man in the time of trouble. Just now he called God the health of his countenance. Now he calls him his very life. “My prayer unto the God of my life.”

Psa_42:9-11. I will say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me? why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy? As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me; while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God? Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.

Or, as the old psalm puts it: — “Yea, mine own God is he.” A sweet collocation of words, indeed! “Yea, mine own God is he.” He seems to revel in God; — to find intense delight in God. God is everything to him.



Psa_42:1. As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.

Hunted, hot, weary, thirsty! It must drink or die. You see the poor creature with the big tears in its eyes, with the sweat distilling from it, moving to and fro as it pants in its longing for the water, “ even so does our soul long after God.” I must have my God. I must die if I have not God. It is the refrain of our hymn, “ Give me Christ, or else I die.” It is not verbal. It is the soul that is panting. And when you grow very weary with the word and very heavy of heart--and when without any trouble you are led to see the emptiness of all carnal joys--then is the time when this panting comes.

Psa_42:2. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?

Not sacraments, not sermons, but God. Not books, not even prayers, but God. Three times he puts it; “for God”--“for the living God”--“that I may come and appear before God.” We could not pant after an idol or an image; but we do thirst after a living God that he would come to our living souls. We feel as if we could not live without the living God. Is it so with you? You shall have your desire. If for a while he delays, he must come at the cry of his children.

Psa_42:3. My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?

That is a very stinging question, and the enemy knows that and he takes care to put it often to the Christian.” “Where is thy God.” “ My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” That was the bitterest bitter in Christ’s cup. When our adversaries think that we are altogether left, and to cry, “Where is thy God?” it is not wonderful that we begin to weep until our tears become the salt meat of every meal. “My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?”

Psa_42:4. When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me:

You could not help it. It is not the best thing in the world. Meditation is always good, but it needs to be done in a wise way, else we may meditate ourselves into still deeper griefs. “ I pour out my soul in me.”

Psa_42:4. For I had gone with the multitude,

Here were memories which made him sorrowful, but yet made him hopeful.

Psa_42:4. I went with them to the house of God,

Time was when I had many with me, when I did not stand alone,-when they were glad of my company, and I of theirs. I did not go the wrong way, but I went with them to the house of God; and the house of God is all the more delightful because of the many that go to it. “At once they sing, at once they pray They hear of heaven and learn the way.”

Psa_42:4. With the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holy day.

And I felt it to be a true holiday. There are some that turn holy days into holidays. Blessed are they that turn holidays into holy days. It is indeed, a great solace for the heart to enjoy Christian fellowship, and to go with the many to the worship of God. But if he cannot--if his pathway is to be a lonely one, then let him still trust in God though I should not wonder that he has his grief.

Psa_42:5. Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me?

As old Master Trapp says, “David tries to talk David out of the dumps; and he does well.” Here were two Davids--David that was down and David that was up, and David draws David up. So you, too, if you are a little low tonight, should let your better, godlier self talk to yourself.

Psa_42:5. Hope thou in God:

If you cannot do anything else, yet hope. The New Zealanders call hope “ the swimming thought,” because when everything else is drowned up comes hope at the top of the wave. You cannot drown hope.

Psa_42:5. For I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.

Snatch from the altars of the future fire-brands with which to kindle the altar of today. “ I shall yet praise him.” I am not always going to be low. I have hung the harp upon the willows, but I have not broken its strings. I shall take it down again. “ I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.” If he does but look upon us, if he does but have pity upon us, let us be content with that, and abide his time.

Psa_42:6. O my God, my soul is cast down within me:

Is it not a blessed thing that, even when he is down, he says, “ Oh, my God”? He gets hold of his God. He has lost his company, but he has not lost his God. See-“my soul”--“my God.” His God is as much his as his soul is his. He puts them together-“my God”-“my soul.”

Psa_42:6. Therefore will I remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill Mizar.

Were these places where he was then wandering? He would remember God wherever he was. He would remember happier days, seasons long past when he did walk in fellowship with God. So let us remember how he kept his tryst with us in former days of sorrow,-how he manifested himself unto us as he does not to the world. He will do the same now. Let us be of good courage.

Psa_42:7. Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts; all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.

They are God’s waves and God’s billows; so he will not mind them. Our Father rules the stormiest deeps, and the noisiest depths of the soul only speak as he permits them. Be of good cheer.

Psa_42:8-9. Yet the LORD will command his lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life. I will say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me? why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?

He had tried his “whys” on himself. Now he comes with his “whys” to his God, and God will answer him. Our Father permits his children to plead with him. You are permitted to say, “O God, show me wherefore thou contendest with me;” and he will be pleased to let you see the reason, or, if not, to give you faith enough to be satisfied without a reason.

Psa_42:10. As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me; while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God?

Rather monotonous this. “Where is thy God?” is all they can say. They are rather short of wit when they must always hang on to the same old taunt. If ever you hear of a new heresy, it is only an old heresy with a new soul put to it.

Psa_42:11. Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.

This exposition consisted of readings from Matthew 15.; and Psalms 42.



Psa_42:1. As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.

“As the hart panteth” or “brayeth.” And if such be your soul’s panting after God, you shall have what you pant for. Sooner or later, God will manifest himself in grace to the man who cries after him in this fashion.

Psa_42:2. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God : —

“My soul, my very soul, thirsteth for God, the living God.”

Psa_42:2-3. When shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?

That is another of the taunts of the ungodly. Just now, they said, “When shall he die and his name perish?” Now they cry, “Where is thy God?” “You said that he would help you; you were sure that he would comfort you; you were confident that he would draw near to you; and now you are crying and panting after him, and have not got what you want: ‘Where is thy God?’”

Psa_42:4. When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me :-

That is not a good thing to do; if you do pour your soul out, do not pour it into yourself again. There is little gain when you merely empty your grief out of yourself into yourself. I have known many a man lay his burden down, and then take it up again directly. That is poor economy; the way to get rid of the sorrow is to pour out your hearts before God. There is no wisdom in doing what the psalmist says he did: “I pour out my soul in me:”—

Psa_42:4-5. For I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holy day. Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me?

You see, the psalmist here talks to himself. Every man is two men; we are duplicates, if not triplicates, and it is well sometimes to hold a dialogue with one’s own self. “Why art thou cast down, O my soul?” I always notice that, as long as I can argue with myself about my depressions, I can get out of them; but when both the men within me go down at once, it is a downfall indeed. When there is one foot on the solid rock, the other comes up to it pretty soon.

Psa_42:5. Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.

“I know I shall; he will yet look at me. I shall not always be in the dark; wherefore, let me begin at once to praise him.” It is well sometimes to snatch a light from the altars of the future, and with it to kindle the sacrifices of the present: “I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.”

Psa_42:6. O my God, my soul is cast down within me: therefore will I remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill Mizar.

From the little hill I will think of all thy former love; — all the sacred spots where thou hast met with me, all the lonely places where thou hast been my comfort, and all the joyful regions where thou hast been my glory. I will think of these, and take comfort from them, for thou art an unchanging God; and what thou didst for me aforetime, thou wilt do for me again and yet again.

Psa_42:7. Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.

Here is a great storm; here is a man, not merely on the sea, but in the sea;

with not only some waves beating upon him, but with all of them going over him; and those not common waves, but God’s waves. That is a Hebraism for the biggest waves, Atlantic billows; all these have gone right over him, yet see how he swims. Hope in God always crests the stormiest billow.

Psa_42:8-9. Yet the Lord will command his lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life. I will say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me? why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?

See what liberties saints take with God; how they reason with him, how they argue with him; and God loves them to do so. Are you not pleased with your child when he urges reasons why you should do this or that for him? You are glad to see that he has mind enough to think of these things, and confidence enough in you to expect you to be affected by his pleadings; and the Lord loves his people to discourse with him. “Put me in remembrance,” saith he, “let us plead together.” “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord.” If we reasoned more with God, we should reason less with ourselves. There is a good reason for reasoning with God, but it is often unreasonable to reason with yourself.

Psa_42:10-11. As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me; while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God? Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: For I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.

It is curious to see the duplicate man here; he talks to himself as “thou,” and yet he says “I.” “Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance.” First, he said, “I shall yet praise him for the health of his countenance;” now it is “the health of my countenance.” When God helps us with his countenance, then our own countenance soon grows bright and healthy. “Who is the health of my countenance,” says the psalmist; and then he comes to the sweetest note of all, “and my God.”

For yet I know I shall him praise,

Who graciously to me,

The health is of my countenance,

Yea, mine own God is he.”

Oh, sweet word that! May each of us be able to reach it! Amen.

This exposition consisted of readings from Psalms 41, 42.