Psalms 104:1–10

The psalm opens with praise to the Creator. It comes from one who, according to the previous psalm, already knows the Lord as Redeemer. So he can say, "O LORD my God, you are very great!"

The Lord the Redeemer is what the last psalm proclaimed to us. Divine Love could not hand over the glory of this salvation to another. Nor could Divine Love find anyone able to make the enormous sacrifice it involved. In the psalm before us the Lord is the Creator as well. Nature brings its tribute of praise to swell the anthem of redemption. Only in this way can we grasp its glorious harmony.

The psalm begins by celebrating the greatness of the Lord: He is clothed with splendour and majesty. He is unreachable in His own essential glory. He covers Himself with light as with a garment, and stretches out the heavens like the curtain of a tent. The visible is therefore the robe of the Invisible. He lives in it, and through it we may make out, however dimly, His glorious Form.

Who else could anyone say has covered himself with light as with a garment? Here the light is so bright that it blinds our weak eyes, but that only draws out more devoted worship.

In Genesis 1 we have the record of creation; in this psalm the song of creation. The psalm in its main outline follows the story of creation. The record shows creation at its beginning. The song shows creation as it works now. "One portrays the beginning of the eternal order, the other its ongoing living spectacle. That is also why the Ode has far more animation than the Record. The Record is a picture of still life; the Ode is crowded with figures full of stir and movement."

Psalm 104, which celebrates the Lord as Creator, needs very few remarks. You will notice that it deals almost entirely with the earth. He is clothed with the glory of the heavens, and the psalm describes that in most beautiful language. But the earth is the subject. The psalm looks at the earth as it now is, the home of men, yet everything depended on the Lord's sovereign will. It does not celebrate the earth, but the Lord, the Creator of it. It is not paradise, but this earth as we see it in man's hands. But the psalm looks ahead to sinners being consumed out of it, and the wicked being no more.

Can such language describe Job? — "You are very great; you are clothed with splendor and majesty, covering Yourself with light as with a garment." … But had his own right hand stopped the raiding bands that carried off his possessions? Had it turned aside the storm that swept away his children? Sadly, he had needed a piece of broken pottery to scrape himself. His clothing was sackcloth, not glory and majesty. His seat was the ashes of a ruined life, not the throne of glory.

The psalm opens with praise to the Creator. It comes from a man who, according to the previous psalm, already knows Jehovah as Redeemer. That is why he can say, "O Lord my God, you are very great." In these opening verses the psalmist sees a view of creation that matches the first and second days of creation. God, who is light, divides the waters from the waters. He stretches out the heavens above, over the waters beneath.

Inaccessible in His own essential glory, He covers Himself with light as with a garment, and stretches out the heavens like the curtain of a tent. The visible is thus the robe of the Invisible. He indwells it, and through it we may discern, if dimly, His glorious Form.

Yet this dimness itself is Light. There is no hiding, except to make Him better known. Our sight is weak, so we look at the sun through a darkened glass.

Could anyone say this of Job? — "You are very great; you are clothed with splendor and majesty, covering yourself with light as with a garment." … But had his own right hand even stopped the raiders who drove away his possessions? Or turned aside the storm that swept away his children? Sadly, he had to use a piece of broken pottery to scrape himself. His clothing was sackcloth, not glory and majesty. His seat was the ashes of a ruined life, not the throne of glory.

Of whom else could anyone say that He has covered Himself with light as with a garment? Here the light is so bright that it blinds our feeble eyes, yet it draws out deeper worship. "Stretching out the heavens like a tent." We marvel as we watch the heavens, and how they are kept in calm, majestic beauty. The clouds move and change all the time, but they have no effect on the heavens themselves.

God's purpose was to make known His moral nature and character, and the happiness of the life He lives. To carry out that purpose, He had to come out from the unapproachable light where He dwells alone. He did this when He came forth in the exercise of the creating power that is His own. In the creation He has produced, He has clothed Himself "with light as with a garment." But when we look at God in creation, we do not see His moral nature and life. Creation shows "His eternal power and divinity" (Rom. 1:20). It proclaims the power and divinity that was eternally in Him, but not what He is in moral nature and character.

In the Old Testament we read of God as the One who covers Himself "with light as with a garment." We could say the same of our Lord as He walked through this world of darkness. He stood in perfect contrast to everyone around Him. This was true all through the years of His ministry. It stood out most in the hours just before His crucifixion.

Strange as it may sound, "He lays the beams of His upper chambers in the waters" (v. 3). These are "the waters above" (Gen. 1:7), water carried in the clouds. Those clouds are in effect made "His chariot," and we can only watch them, for we do not ride in them. Nor can we "walk on the wings of the wind," as our great Creator and Redeemer does.

The psalm opens with praise to the Creator. The one singing already knows the Lord as Redeemer, as the previous psalm shows. So he can say, "O Lord my God, you are very great." In these opening verses a view of creation rises before the psalmist. It matches the first and second days of creation. God, who is light, divides the waters from the waters. He stretches out the heavens above over the waters beneath. In all this great work we see God not only creating, but moving in His own creation. He "makes the clouds His chariot," and "walks on the wings of the wind." Angels wait on Him as His ministers.

The psalmist will not explain what happens in the heavens by matter and motion alone. To him it is all filled with the Presence and Will of a divine Being, whom these things in some sense show. We have discovered some of the mechanics involved. That has done nothing to disprove what the psalmist believed. The description is poetic, but its meaning is not hard to understand, and no one can prove it superstitious. Superstition thrives in the dark; it is inconsistent, fantastic, irrational. These things have proved rational, and so authoritative that we call them "law." To claim them as the work of Mind, of a divine Governor, is not superstition at all.

The cloud first took Him at the head of His redeemed people, to lead them on the way (Ex. 13). Later it carried Him to fill His place in the tabernacle, and then in the temple (Ex. 40; 2 Chr. 5). So the cloudy chariot waited on Him of old (Ps. 104:3). And when the sins of the people had disturbed His rest among them, the cherubim carry Him away (Ezek. 1); and the cherubim were called "the chariot of the cherubim" (1 Chr. 28:18). On all these occasions He was attended by His appointed chariot. And so He is now. He is "carried up."

Every eye will see Him in surroundings that show His Deity. For this is the Lord God Himself, "who makes the clouds His chariot, who walks on the wings of the wind" (Ps. 104:3)… Our verse here announces that all the tribes of the earth will wail because of Him. This is not repentance. They wail because His coming seals their doom, and they realize it.

The glory of God rests on the cross. "Who lays the beams of His chambers in the waters." The beams of the chambers of glory rest, as it were, on foundations laid deep in death. The Lamb of God went down into that death, so that everything should be established and made sure there. What could be more blessed or comforting than that?

The psalm opens with praise to the Creator by one who, according to the previous psalm, already knows the Lord as Redeemer, and can therefore say, "O Lord my God, You are very great." In the opening verses a view of creation rises before the psalmist that matches the first and second days of creation… In all this great work God is seen not only as creating but as moving in His own creation. He "makes the clouds His chariot," and "walks upon the wings of the wind." Angels wait upon Him as His ministers.

The writer of the letter to the Hebrews accepts and uses the old Greek translation of this verse (Heb. 1:7), and that rules out any other reading. "He makes His angels spirits" is, according to the apostle, a fact stated about the nature of angels. That is of course a much higher fact than "making the winds His messengers." The words could be translated either way, so something other than the language must settle the meaning… There would indeed be a gap in the picture of the Lord as Creator if only physical forces — clouds, winds and so on — were spoken of, and not His creative power in the realm of spirit.

This shows that no part of His creation stands separate from Him. No physical force works that is not the carrying out of His will. The "spirits," with a responsibility of their own, represent Him and are subject to Him, receiving their character and their gifts from Him according to His will.

God created angels to serve. They are indeed spirit, and not flesh. They look like Him who is Himself a consuming fire. But they have their being, and are kept in their appointed spheres, by the word of Him who made them. In all their might and excellence they belong wholly to Him who formed them for Himself.

Here God is speaking of His works of creation and providence, and the messengers He uses: they are angels, beings who excel in strength and delight to do His will. He makes the angels spirits, and they go like the lightning or the wind, quick and certain in their work.

It has pleased God to give these agents of His power this nature of spirits. But of the Son He says, "Your throne, O God!" God, in the exercise of His will, makes His angels spirits, or flames of fire. But of the Son we never read that God makes anything of Him… The angels stand higher than man. Yet for all their glory, they stand far below the Son.

They are only servants, whatever their might, function, or sphere… They never rule.

At God's command they get ready to serve, in whatever the saint needs, or whatever the occasion under the throne of God calls for. They formed a travelling chariot to carry Elijah to heaven, and to carry Lazarus to Abraham's side. They now form chariots of war, when the hostile armies of Syria surround Elisha… They are either as winds or as fire. They are messengers of mercy and executors of judgment, as "the Lord" who "is among them" may command.

We owe far more to angelic ministry than we notice, in matters of physical strength and wellbeing. Yet as spirit beings their ministry is hidden, and they are content to remain unknown to us, so that all the glory for it goes to God alone.

On the first day there was light (v. 2). Then, on the second day, God formed the expanse of sky (v. 2). On the third day He divided the waters (v. 3) and laid the earth on its foundations (v. 5). The waters were gathered together, so that the dry land appeared (vv. 6-9).

These verses confirm the Genesis record: God prepared the earth for man's welfare. We may wonder how the earth can have foundations, since we understand it to be a great ball speeding through space. But God knows what He is doing, and He establishes what we cannot. The foundations are so solid that nothing can change it "forever and ever" (v. 5).

This verse declares that the dry land is completely secure for ever. It uses the strongest expression for eternity that the Old Testament has (le-olam va-ed). The flood, which geology is beginning to teach us about, changed nothing essential in the structure of the earth in this way. The purification by fire that awaits the earth, before it reaches the eternal condition of the "new earth," need not change it either, though there will then be "no more sea" (Rev. 21:1). Whatever the changes may be, God keeps to His first plan all the way through, and He builds for eternity.

The Old Testament has a way of expressing absolute eternity, which shows that olam by itself cannot say it clearly. It adds to olam a word that may be taken as "and yet": "for the olam and yet." So beyond the olam a further stretch of time is possible and real. This phrase occurs about fourteen times in the Old Testament. In only one of them may it have a more limited meaning: Psalm 104:5. And there its limit comes from the nature of the thing it describes.

The new earth, let us remember, is new in the same sense that the man in Christ is a new man — not a new individual. It is the same person who was the sinner and is now the saint, but there is a completely new condition. The earth's renewal is not the prelude to its mere destruction. On the contrary, it is the first step towards lasting blessing and the change of the heavens and the earth.

Psalm 104 celebrates the creation glory that Psalm 102 showed belongs to Messiah. I take these words to be the expressions of Messiah's soul. He alone has the fulness of the Spirit to voice them. Yet they are the testimony of the Spirit for us, for Messiah is also Jehovah, the Creator.

Only gladness in the Lord Himself qualifies a believer to truly enjoy His works. In this Psalm the Spirit of promise is declaring the majesty and glory that belong to Christ (Col. 1:16). The Psalm is a most beautiful description of the harmonious blessing of creation, held in power by the God of the whole earth.

God's providence rules over all even now. But in the end He will apply His resurrection strength to creation. Creation will then become again, as of old, the object of divine delight. It now groans and suffers pain, but it will then be delivered.

But at first, as we read in Genesis, water ruled everywhere: "You covered it with the deep as with a garment; the waters stood above the mountains." Geology knows this condition well. Moses somehow knew it before geology. The earth man lives on was born out of water, like a child from the womb. Its structure was already there — mountains, and by implication valleys — before that birth.

As is implied in Genesis 1:9, the deep waters covered the entire world, a fact that science cannot dispute. In fact, here we read "the waters stood above the mountains" (v. 6). It was the rebuke of God's word that changed this condition. What a voice of thunder indeed! (v. 7)... The emerging earth was to be a suitable place for men's dwelling.

In the verses that follow, the psalmist recalls the first part of the third day's work. He thinks of the day when the Lord's "rebuke" gathered the waters into one place and the dry land appeared. On that day "the mountains rose, the valleys sank, to the place" which God had "founded for them," and God set the bounds of the seas so that "they may not pass over."

The psalmist now tells the story of how the earth was prepared for man. God's delight in man, and so His "rejoicing in the habitable parts of His earth," are plainly the theme. The rebuke and bounding of the overflowing waters may be read as a parable of the conflict this world has always seen. That conflict receives its final rebuke when the Prince of Peace comes... The flood changed nothing essential in the structure of the earth in this way, and the purification by fire that awaits it before the new earth can come need not do so either — though then there will be "no more sea" (Rev. 21:1). Whatever changes may come, God keeps to His first plan all through, and builds for eternity.

The third day is resurrection day, and the earth rises out of the waters. Once the power of resurrection is known, it gives the soul stability and fruitfulness. As with the darkness before, so now with the waters: God sets their bound. They cannot pass it, and they cannot turn again to cover the earth. So it is with everything that causes the soul's unrest and barrenness.

The more we study this, the more sure we shall be that the typical meaning is no arbitrary fitting of the facts to a spiritual illustration. It is deeply grounded in the nature of things. In short, we shall realise what this psalm emphasises: the Redeemer and the Creator are One.

In Genesis 1 we have the record of creation; in this psalm the song of creation. The psalm in its main outline follows the story of creation. The record shows creation at its beginning. The song shows creation as it works now. "One pictures the beginning of the eternal order, the other its ongoing living display. So the song has far more life in it than the record. The record is a picture of still life; the song is crowded with figures full of stir and movement" (Perowne).

But at first, as we read in Genesis, water ruled everywhere: "You covered it with the deep as with a garment; the waters stood above the mountains." Geology knows this condition well. Moses somehow knew it before geology. The earth man lives on came out of water, like a child from the womb. Its structure was already there — mountains, and valleys implied along with them — before it came out in this way.

In the verses that follow the psalmist recalls the first part of the third day's work. He thinks of the day when at the "rebuke" of the Lord the waters were gathered into one place, and the dry land appeared. On that day "the mountains rose, the valleys sank, to the place" which God had "founded for them." On that day God set the bounds of the seas so that "they may not pass over."

As is implied in Genesis 1:9, the deep waters covered the entire world, a fact that science cannot dispute. In fact, here we read that "the waters stood above the mountains" (v. 6). It was the rebuke of God's word that changed this condition. What a voice of thunder indeed! (v. 7).

Thunder is rare in Palestine. Scripture treats it as the voice of God in power — in the Old Testament looking back, and in Revelation looking ahead. Ps. 29; Ps. 77:18; Ps. 104:7; Rev. 4:5; Rev. 6:1; etc.: compare also John 12:29.

It was His voice — "God said," ten times repeated — that brought order out of chaos, light out of darkness, and life out of death (Gen. 1). It was His voice that stilled the angry Galilean sea, and hushed its wild winds and waves into the calm of a sleeping child (Matt. 8:23-27).

The psalmist now tells the story of how the earth was made ready for man. God's delight in man, and so His "rejoicing in the habitable parts of his earth," are plainly the theme. The rebuke and bounding of the overflowing waters can also be read as a parable of the strife that the world has always seen. That strife receives its final rebuke when the Prince of peace comes.

In the verses that follow, the psalmist recalls the first part of the third day's work. He thinks of the day when the "rebuke" of the Lord gathered the waters into one place and the dry land appeared. On that day "the mountains rose, the valleys sank, to the place" which God had "founded for them," and God set the bounds of the seas so that "they may not pass over."

As is implied in Genesis 1:9, the deep waters covered the entire world, a fact that science cannot dispute. In fact, here we read that "the waters stood above the mountains" (v. 6), and that the rebuke of God's word changed this condition. What a voice of thunder indeed! (v. 7). The Numerical Bible translates verse 8: "Mountains ascended; they went down the valleys unto the place that You have appointed for them." This evidently means the mountains rose and made the waters run down into the valleys. The emerging earth was to be a suitable place for men's dwelling.

Some object that we cannot say, "They ascended the mountains," speaking of the waters. It sounds unnatural in itself, and the waters already stood above the mountains, which rules it out. So most read "The mountains rose; the valleys sank," and treat it as an aside, since the rest of the verse, and the next one too, speak again of the waters. The "place appointed" is clearly the "one place" into which God gathers the waters on the third day. It does not refer to either the mountains or the valleys. On the other hand, it is awkward to take the first half of the verse as an aside. But there seems no reason why we should not translate it, "Mountains ascended: they went down the valleys." That keeps the connection, and makes the language a vivid picture.

The next verse then speaks of the boundary God assigned to the retreating waters, to keep them from returning again. So man's earth has been recovered and is kept for him… The more we study this, the more sure we shall be that its meaning as a picture is no arbitrary fitting of the facts to a spiritual lesson. It is grounded deep in the nature of things. In short, we shall see what this psalm stresses: the Redeemer and the Creator are One.

At the time of Noah's flood this process may seem to have been reversed for a short time. Yet it was not reversed for good. God had set a boundary for the waters so that they might not return to cover the earth (v. 9). As God tells Job, "I said, 'Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed'" (Job 38:11).

In Psalm 104:8 we see that "valleys" are a creation of God Himself: "the valleys sank, to the place which You had founded for them." So we can accept our "valley" circumstances as the ordering of God. And we can rejoice in the knowledge that "He sends the springs into the valleys" (v. 10). How blessed to hear Him say to His people, "I the LORD will answer them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them, I will open… fountains in the midst of the valleys" (Isaiah 41:17-18).

In the verses that follow, the psalmist recalls the first part of the third day's work. He thinks of the day when at the "rebuke" of the Lord the waters gathered into one place and the dry land appeared. He thinks of when "the mountains rose, the valleys sank, to the place" which God had "founded for them," and when God set the bounds of the seas so that "they may not pass over."

The next verse then speaks of the boundary God set for the retreating waters, to keep them from coming back. So man's earth has been recovered, and God preserves it for him. The picture behind it has been pointed out elsewhere (Genesis 1: notes). The more we study this, the more sure we shall be that this picture-meaning is not a random fitting of the facts to a spiritual lesson. It rests deep in the nature of things. In short, we shall see what this psalm stresses: that the Redeemer and the Creator are One.

At the time of Noah's flood this process may seem to have been reversed for a short time. But it was not reversed for good. God had set a boundary for the waters so that they would not return to cover the earth (v. 9). As God tells Job, "Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed" (Job 38:11).

The flood (which we are beginning to know something about from geology) changed nothing basic in the structure of the earth in this way. The purification by fire that awaits it, before the eternal condition of the "new earth" can come, need not change it either, though there will then be "no more sea" (Rev. 21:1). Whatever the changes may be, God keeps to His first plan all through, and builds for eternity.

God has restrained this restless mighty ocean. He did so at the beginning, and again when in judgment He let it swallow up the earth. Man gazes at it with awe, but cannot control its power. His "thousand fleets sweep over it in vain"; he "marks the earth with ruin," but his control stops at the shore.

Clearly this foundation is a separation. Ever since, the water has been working at this earth that God established, trying, as it were, to overthrow it. But it has not been able. This struggle is a fitting picture of what has happened to His people. For centuries the fight has been waged against them, to break down the barrier of God's purpose that He has put around them — and it could not.

The psalmist does not think of the Creator only in His past work as the Originator of all. He sees Him in His present work as the Sustainer of His creation. So the psalmist can say, "He sends the springs" — not simply that He sent them in the past; He does so now. It is the present sustaining mercy of the Creator that fills the soul with praise. And the psalmist sees creation in the fullness of its life and activity. The springs are not simply made — they "run among the hills."

mayan (from ayin); translated 'spring' in Ps. 104:10, 'well' in Joshua 18:15 and Isa. 12:3, and often 'fountain,' as at the flood.

It is not enough that man's home should be separated from the waters. Separated and nothing more, the dry land would be a barren possession for him. He could not keep himself alive on it even a few days. Earth — and therefore man — depends on heaven. That is a deeply spiritual truth, and all nature is full of it. So we come now to the springs of refreshing. The earth passes them on, but they are not of the earth. The "living water" is the well-known picture of the Spirit. Its power comes first of all from its descent from heaven, whatever underground channels bring it to the place where we find it.

How free all God's gifts are, and the ones we need most are the freest of all. Fresh air, sunshine, the streams that water the earth: these are spread as widely as they are needed. The "wild asses" are the very picture of stubborn rebellion; but "He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust."

Fresh water is of great importance. It meets man's thirst, and it enables the land to bear fruit to relieve his hunger. Wonderfully, these fresh waters abound in the mountains and in the valleys (v. 10).

So long ago the Psalmist (104) praised Him who sent out springs into the valleys, to run among the mountains. They are not for man only, or for every beast of the field, even the wildest of them, but for the birds as well. They lift their voices among the branches, where a dead silence prevails. The tall spreading cedars were planted not for man's use only, not for taste or pride, but for the birds also to make their nests.

In Psalm 104:8 we see that "valleys" are a creation of God Himself: "the valleys sank down to the place that You appointed for them." So we can accept our "valley" circumstances as the ordering of God. And we can rejoice to know that "He sends the springs into the valleys" (v. 10). How blessed it is to hear Him say to His people, "I the LORD will answer them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them… I will open… fountains in the midst of the valleys" (Isaiah 41:17-18).