"How excellent is Thy loving-kindness, O Lord!" Here is a burst of doxology born out of a great contemplation. This man sings but as the linnet sings; he sings because he must; his song is the spontaneous outbreaking of a jubilant soul. So many of our doxologies are forced and artificial; they are not natural and inevitable. This man's song is the sure and certain issue of prepared and definite conditions. He has been surveying the wondrous power of God. And where has the meditation taken place? In the open air. He is a great lover of nature, and as he fixes his wondering eye upon its glories, Nature becomes to him a literature, and he discerns the character of God. It is a long and leisurely meditation. Moment by moment he seems to peer into ever-deepening depths in the immeasurable sky. "Thy mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens!" Thy mercy is just like what I am gazing at! Depth beyond depth, and a comprehension that encircles everybody! And then he turns to the gathering clouds, brewing away in the south-west, and coming with their ladened treasures to moisten the slopes of Carmel, and to drench the dried plains with their fertilizing wealth. And again his heart reads the spiritual evangel brought by this material messenger. "Thy faithfulness reacheth out of the clouds!" The looming storm, the gathering darkness, are not chaotic forces raging at will without command; they are all in the charge of the Almighty God! "The clouds drop fatness!" Then his eyes wander away to the uplifted mountains, to Hermon and to distant Lebanon, or across to the hills of Moab. These are the emphases in the landscape, the abiding realities amid all its shifting moods. The river comes and goes; there is time of drought and time of plenty! Generations arise and pass away, but in each succeeding day the harvester looks up from the feverish plains and sees the cool and towering heights of the unchanging Lebanon. "Thy righteousness is like the great mountains!" Whatever happens, that endures! And so his contemplative eye wanders about in this great field of spiritual symbolism, till the heart glows and burns in the accumulated glory. "How excellent is Thy loving-kindness, O God!" Surely we might imitate the psalmist in this fruitful method of devotion. Now this loving-kindness, so precious and so excellent, represents itself to the psalmist as a home for the soul, a home in which all the children of men can be the guests of God. The loving-kindness of our Lord is just the guest-house of the soul! For what does the psalmist assure us we may find in this gracious home? First., it offers us shelter. "Therefore the children of men take refuge under the shadow of Thy wings." I think there is something very pathetic in the conjunction. After the towering mountains, and the far-stretched heavens, and the battalions of storm-clouds, and the mysterious sea, he mentions "the children of men." He appears to be half-terrified and half-confident in the association. Man seems so pitiably small by the side of the colossal phenomena of the material world. And yet, although the psalmist trembles for a moment in the sense of his own insignificance, he soon recovers the confidence of his soul. "Therefore the children of men fake refuge under the shadow of Thy wings." That is the privilege of the sons of God. We can hide in the immediate presence of the Creator of all things, We can turn into the loving-kindness of God as little chicks cuddle under their mother's wings. There is room for everybody, always and everywhere. The peril or the crisis never finds us far away from home. But in the guest-house we not only find shelter and security, we find gracious and perfect sustenance. "They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of Thy house." The Lord always gives His guest the best. The word "fatness" literally means the top of a thing. The top of milk is the cream, and it is always the cream of things with which our Lord entertains His children. "Thou feedest them with the finest of the wheat." He provides fat visions for the mind, delivering us from poor and thin conceptions of God, of man, of life and duty. He provides fat promises for the heart, saving us from thin and poor affections, from emotions in which there is no strength and no sacrificial ministry. And He provides fat energies for the will, nourishing us into powers of resoluteness which make us invulnerable in the pilgrim way. And with this fatness we are to be "abundantly satisfied." There are so many unsatisfied people in our streets, possessed of comforts, but no comfort, having found ease but not having gained peace. But the food of the Lord is to abundantly satisfy, and the heart is to be at rest. "He satisfieth thy mouth with good things." But more than shelter and sustenance are to be given to us. Our great Host entertains His guests with rare delights. "Thou shelf make them drink of the river of Thy pleasures." This may mean the pleasures that God provides us, Or it may mean God's own pleasures, or it may probably mean both. The things that give pleasure to the Lord are to give joy to us, In what does our Lord find His delight? "He delighteth in mercy!" And I am to drink of this river, and to relish the taste of it, and to find it a gracious delight. "There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth!" And of this river I am to drink, and my heart is to be glad at the prodigal's return. When I see another rejoicing I am to rejoice, and in my delight I shall share the joy of the Lord. And all these pleasures are to come my way like a river. They are not to be like a pool, exposed to the immediate drought, dried up in the critical day. And the psalmist, before closing his doxology, gives us the great secret of this all-sufficient hospitality. "With Thee is the fountain of life." All good is to be found in God. "All our springs are in Him," the springs of impulse, and desire, and will, and of all vitality.

(J. H. Jowett, M.A.)