I am weary with my groaning.
The penitent’s sorrow
The penitent here expresses the effects which his sorrow had upon him in its outward manifestations. His eye was consumed because of grief, and he was weary with his groaning. An impression now seems generally to prevail that outward manifestations of feeling in matters of religion, instead of being proofs that the feeling is sound, are rather proofs that it is otherwise. Certainly, in themselves they are no unequivocal evidence of sincere and deep feeling; and in assemblies of God’s people it is better in general that they should be repressed than indulged in. But where such feelings exist they must in some way or other be expressed: “I am weary with my crying,” says the Psalmist; “my throat is dried; mine eyes fail, when they waist for my God.” They mourn by reason of affliction. I have stretched out my hands daily unto Thee. Tears have been my meat day and night. And we can see no reason in the nature of things why such strong feelings of grief should be absent in religion. Surely, if the prospect of losing an earthly friend--a husband or a brother--causes the eye to run down with tears, the breast to heave and be convulsed with sobs, and the heart to be poured out like water before God--the prospect of losing eternal life may be no less overpowering. Assuredly, if a fall from riches to poverty, from circumstances of comfort to a condition of wretchedness, has shaken men of firm nerves--the prospect of an eternity spent in inconceivable misery, with the worm that dieth not, and in the fire that is not quenched, may appall the stoutest heart. We should therefore be surprised to meet with one who had passed from death to life through the terrors of the law, and yet was wholly a stranger to such feelings. We should regard him as a man of more than mortal mould. But let us observe, that true grief is unobtrusive. It seeks retirement. It is in the night that the Psalmist makes his bed to swim. He speaks not of his tears shed in the assemblies of God’s people. The great question is, What are your feelings towards Him in private? Can the watches of the night bear witness to your meditating on His death and atoning sacrifice, and of your vows to be His, and His alone? Such was the Psalmist’s experience; and light arose on his darkness. The day spring of hope and gladness broke forth on him. Suddenly be changes the notes of woe for those of exultation, “Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity; for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping. The Lord hath heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer. Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed. Let them return and be ashamed suddenly. (G. Innes.)
I water my couch with my tears.--
David’s sorrow
These strong expressions imply a sorrow so deep, unusual, and excessive as to provoke the inquiry, what could possibly occasion and justify them? From Psalms 6:7-10 we conclude that the sufferer is brought into great and grievous peril by the arts of malicious enemies. But we may better seek the origin of his distress in influences of a more inward and spiritual character. While our affairs are prosperous, nothing is so common as a condition of spiritual heedlessness and self-satisfaction. Let God make a breach upon us, so that suddenly riches depart and enemies rejoice and friends begin to look cold, and then not uncommonly our conscience awakes from its long slumber and brings against us grievous, accusations. The feeling that he is suffering God’s rebuke, smarting under God’s correction, is at once a comfort and a grief to the Psalmist: a comfort when he remembered the loving wisdom that corrected him; a grief when he called to mind the sinful ingratitude that needed correction. How can we wonder at the depth and extent of his grief? It is by the depth and reality, yea, the passion and abandon with which he utters the profoundest feelings of the pious heart, that David has moved so mightily the soul and spirit of the world. It is impossible to withhold our deep respect from the stoic, seeing that his endurance of the ills of life implies a control and self-denial almost, if not altogether, sublime. If sorrow, when viewed in relation to its uses, is a good, how can we best apply it to those uses? By acknowledging its existence. Its right to exist, as long as there is sin in our hearts or suffering in the world. Sorrow is but the normal expression of a holy sensibility when excited by the contemplation of suffering or sin; and it is not therefore sorrow in itself, but only the excess and selfishness of it, that is to be restricted and overcome. (J. Moorhouse, M. A.)
Repentance in time will be remembered when repentance is impossible
Oh, let my remembering Thee in life supply the place of my forgetting Thee in death; and when I lie in my grave senseless and silent, be pleased to remember how I have lain in my bed sighing and weeping. (Sir Richard Baker.)
Mourning for sin
First, he sighed and sobbed for his sin, and now he mourneth for the same. Look whereunto our follies tend! The pleasures of sin ever end in displeasure, for which either we must of necessity, mourn in this life, or eternally in the life to come. The measure of his mourning is expressed by the washing and swimming of his bed with tears, which indeed is an hyperbolic speech, and doth express unto the vehemency and greatness of his grief, and that he did not esteem light of his sin, yea, I may affirm never had man greater displeasure for so short a pleasure as had David: neither was he in worse case with God, but rather the multitude of his tears were as many seals of God’s favour towards him, and of the remission of his sins: showers be better than dews, yet it is sufficient if God at least hath bedewed our hearts, and hath given us some signs of a penitent heart: if we have not rivers of waters to pour forth with David, neither fountains flowing with Mary Magdalene, nor as Jeremiah, desire to have a fountain in our head to weep day and night, nor with Peter weep bitterly, yet if we lament that we cannot lament; and mourn that we cannot mourn; yea, if we have the smallest sobs of sorrow and tears of compunction, if they be true and not counterfeit, they will make us acceptable to God: for as the woman with the bloody issue that touched the hem of Christ’s garment was no less welcome to Christ than Thomas, who put his fingers in the print of the nails, so God looketh not at the quantity, but the sincerity of our repentance. “My bed.” The place of his sin is the place of his repentance, and so it should be, yea, when we behold the place where we have offended we should be pricked in the heart, and there again crave Him pardon. Sanctify by tears every place which ye have polluted by sin “Every night” So one hour’s sin may bring many nights’ pare, and it may be done in one hour which cannot be amended in our life. Learn, therefore, in time to be careful, and fall not into that ditch, out of which hardly can ye be freed. How easy is it for a man to fall into a pit, but with what difficulty is he delivered therefrom! As the night is secret, so should the work of thy repentance be; repent thou secretly, that the Lord may reward thee openly. Mark here that repentance should be constant, not one night, but every night. It is not seemly to a king to weep for his own private calamities, lest he might seem to be cast down from his courage; but nothing more royal than to mourn for the offence committed against the King of kings. Finally, mark what force tears have with God, that they can blot out the multitude of iniquities: be true and not counterfeit, they will make us acceptable to God. God looketh not on the quantity, but the sincerity of our repentance. (A. Symson, B. D.)
The righteous man’s assault by his enemies
The pirates, seeing an empty bark, pass by it; but if she be loaded with precious wares, then they will assault her. So, if a man have no grace within him, Satan passeth by him, as not a convenient prey for him, but being loaded with graces, as the love of God, his fear, and such other spiritual virtues, let him be persuaded that according as he knows what stuff is in him, so will he not fail to rob him of them, if in any case he may. (A. Symson, B. D.)