June the Ninth
The Story of a Sorrowful Soul
Psalm III
This tearful little psalm tells me where a sorrowful soul found a place of help and consolation. He resorted to God.
“Thou art a shield about me.” He got the Lord between him and his circumstances. There is nothing else subtle enough to interpose. Our hurtful circumstances are so invasive and so immediate that only God can come between us and them. But when God gets in between we are immune. “Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear.”
“Thou art my glory.” And that is an honour that need never be stained. My worldly glory can be besmirched. An evil man throws mud, and my poor reputation is gone. “There’s always somebody ready to believe it!” But my glory with God, and in God—man’s mud cannot touch that fair fame! Even Absalom cannot defile that resplendent robe.
“Thou art the lifter-up of my head.” The flower is “looking up” again! In the Lord’s presence we recover our lost spirits. “He restoreth my soul.” “And now shall mine head be lifted up above mine enemies round about me.”