Psalms 13:1

"Handfuls of Purpose"

For All Gleaners

"How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? how long wilt thou hide thy face from me?" Psa 13:1

He who would see how swiftly the moods of the soul can change should study this thirteenth Psalm. In some half-dozen verses the soul goes through all the gamut of spiritual experience. The first tone is one of despair, the last tone is one of high song "I will sing unto the Lord, because he hath dealt bountifully with me." This may be a parenthesis in the history of David; about that time when his life was in daily peril, when he dare scarcely close his eyes in momentary sleep, because his sleep might be his death. Nothing makes us more conscious of time than pain. The darkness is longer than the day. Deprivation always develops consciousness, and makes the soul feel the oppressiveness of a heavy burden. To a man in perfect health, engaged in the usual and happy avocations of life, there seems to be no time; he is wholly unconscious of any painfulness in the passing of the successive hours. But let a man be in pain, and every tick of the clock is an eternity. There is a quality of punishment, there is also a quality of time; the man who suffers is conscious of eternal torment; to tell him that his torment will be over in a few minutes is hardly to relieve his case at all, for every moment that comes is as long as a lingering day. It is instructive to remember, whilst we are consoling ourselves with the comforts of God, that in spiritual experience there are times of positive blankness and darkness. We are then inclined to blame God, because we think the action is wholly on his side. There are times when the soul is quite sure of its own rectitude, and then it begins to dwell painfully and almost resentfully upon the mysteries of divine providence. Instead of saying, How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? we should say, What have I done to bring upon me this sense of divine neglect? Is the divine Being capricious; has he gone away simply for the purpose of afflicting me, and making me feel my weakness and littleness? Have I grieved the Spirit of God? Has he not retired because there has been in my heart unexpressed rebellion against his dominion? Happy is he who is conscious that the divine face has turned away from him. When we suppose that God is still gracious to us, notwithstanding our self-contradictions and moral wanderings, we have lost that sensitiveness which is the truest test of real spiritual-mindedness. To miss God, to cry out for God, to desire his return, all these emotions have indeed their painful aspect; at the same time they should be accepted as proofs that the soul is still conscious of its need of God, and is restless until he returns.