He sendeth the springs into the valleys they run among the mountains;
The psalm turns from the shaping of the land to the watering of it. Two questions follow. Is this something God did once at the beginning, or something He is doing now? And who is the water for?
One writer reads the verse as present, not past: God still keeps the springs running.
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."
A dictionary of Bible words traces the Hebrew term used here:
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.
Separating the land from the sea was only a first step. One writer explains what the springs supply.
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.
(The writers quote an older wording: "He sends the springs into the valleys; they run among the hills.")
The same writer turns to how freely these gifts come, and to who receives them.
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."
Another writer notes that this water meets two needs at once:
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).
The list of those who drink keeps widening. One writer follows it out as far as the birds.
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.
The springs go down, not up. One writer finds comfort in that direction.
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).
- Sent. God did not only send the springs long ago. He sends them now, and they keep running.
- Sent down. The earth cannot keep itself alive. Its water rises through the ground, but it comes from heaven — and living water pictures the Spirit.
- Sent wide. The stream reaches every beast of the field, the wild ass and the birds in the branches. God provides for His creatures, not just for people.
- Sent free. What is most necessary is most freely given, like sun and rain falling on the just and the unjust alike.
- Sent low. The valleys are God's own making, so the low place in your life is where He aims the springs.
They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench their thirst.
Psalm 104 has just followed the water down from the hills into the valleys. Verse 11 says what those springs are for. The first drinkers named are not farmers or flocks, but the wild animals — including the donkey no one owns, tames or feeds.
The verse reads like nature writing, but the psalm never lets nature stand on its own.
Psalm 104, which celebrates Jehovah as Creator, needs very few remarks. You will notice that it is occupied almost entirely with the earth. The psalm looks at the earth as the home of men, as it is, but everything depended on Jehovah's sovereign will. It is not the earth which is celebrated, but Jehovah, the Creator of it.
One writer points to the tense of the verbs. God did not send the springs once and leave them; He sends them now.
The psalmist does not think of the Creator only in His past work as the Originator of all, but 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. What is more, he views creation in the fullness of its life and activity. The springs are not simply made — they "run among the hills." The wild beasts quench their thirst at the streams; the birds sing and make their nests in the branches of the trees.
The drinkers in this verse serve no one. The psalm names them anyway, and that says something about the One who put the water there.
So long ago the Psalmist (104) celebrated Him who sent forth springs into the valleys, that run among the mountains. He sent them not for man only, or for every beast of the field, even the wildest of them, but for the birds that give their voices among the branches.
Water costs the donkey nothing. One writer sees in that the pattern of how God gives, and how far the giving reaches.
"They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild donkeys quench their thirst." How free all God's gifts are; and the most absolutely necessary are just the freest. Fresh air, sunshine, the streams that water the earth: these are as widely distributed as they are everywhere needed. The "wild donkeys" are the very picture of rebellious stubbornness; but "He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust." And He who has ascended on high and received gifts for men has done so for the rebellious also, that the LORD God might dwell among them.
The same writer looks at where the water starts. It rises out of the ground, but it did not begin there.
Earth, and therefore man, is dependent on heaven; a deeply spiritual truth, of which all nature is full... The well-known picture of the Spirit is the "living water" — water that has in it the power which is first of all derived from its descent from heaven, though it comes by whatever underground channels to the place where we find it.
One writer points to what the donkey stands for in the Bible.
In the Word of God the donkey is not only represented as unclean; it is also the very synonym for self-will... And what is sin? It is correctly defined in the Revised Version of 1 John 3:4: "sin is lawlessness." In other words, sin is doing our own will and neglecting the will of God. Who can claim exemption here? Who among us does not love to have his own way at whatever cost?
Another writer traces the same picture through verses 10 to 12.
Marvellously, these fresh waters abound in the mountains and in the valleys (v. 10), and not only for the good of mankind, but also for the beasts — even the wild donkeys that symbolise man in his natural state of independence and self-will (v. 11). The birds of the heavens are noted for the sweetness of their songs, for they picture those redeemed for a heavenly inheritance, who may well sing for joy (v. 12).
- Source: the water falls from heaven before it rises from the ground. Earth, and man with it, lives on what heaven gives.
- Sent, still: "He sends the springs" is present tense. The psalm praises a Sustainer at work today, not only an Originator who finished long ago.
- Free: the most necessary gifts are the freest — air, sunlight, running water. God gives them to those who need them, not to those who earn them.
- Far: the wild donkey, the picture of self-will, drinks from the same stream. God's sun rises on evil and good alike.
- Response: the psalm does not celebrate the earth. It celebrates Jehovah, its Creator — so the one who drinks should look past the water to the Giver.
The birds of heaven dwell by them; they give forth their voice from among the branches.
Psalm 104 has just traced water from its source. Springs run down into the valleys and between the hills, and every wild animal drinks. Verse 12 follows the water to the birds. They live beside it, and they answer with song.
These psalms move through God's different dealings one by one. This one takes creation as its subject.
Psalm 103 reviews God's moral dealings with the people. Psalm 104 reviews His dealings with creation. It celebrates Jehovah, the God of Israel, in connection with creation.
Kelly traces the springs of the earlier verses out beyond human need.
So long ago the psalmist celebrated Him who sent out springs into the valleys, to run among the mountains. He did not send them for man only, or for every beast of the field, even the wildest of them. He sent them for the birds too, the birds that lift their voices among the branches. Without them a dead silence rules there, broken now and then by loud shrieks of anguish, so unlike their cheerful songs.
The verbs of this section are present, not past.
The psalmist does not think of the Creator only in His past work as the Originator of all, but in His present work as the Sustainer of His creation. So the psalmist can say, "He sends the springs." He does not simply mean that He sent them in the past. He does so now. He also says, "He waters the hills," and "He causes the grass to grow." It is the present sustaining mercy of the Creator that fills the soul with praise. The springs are not just made — they "run among the hills." The wild beasts quench their thirst at the streams; the birds sing and make their nests in the branches of the trees.
Smith quotes an older translation of the surrounding verses, which reads "He sends" where the ESV has "You make."
One writer notices two things about these birds: what Israel's law never said against them, and where they live.
And beside these springs the birds of the heavens dwell, and give voice among the branches. We may call them natural worshippers. Under the law of Leviticus no song-bird was ever unclean. Their notes vary, but they are always in harmony. The water draws them, and they live above our heads. They hold themselves up on their wings in free flight, along paths no beast of the earth can follow.
The psalm places the singing among the branches. That detail matters in a hot country.
Branches of trees give birds natural shade from the burning rays of an Eastern sun. They also give a good site for their nests. This simple sight, familiar to everyone, is often referred to in the Old Testament (Ps. 104:12; Ezek. 17:23; Ezek. 31:6; Dan. 4:12, 21). The parable of the mustard tree also uses it. That tree, it says, "puts out large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade." The birds find a place of refuge among the leafy branches.
One commentator reads the birds as a picture. Their song, he says, points to a people with a reason to sing.
The birds of the heavens are famous for the sweetness of their songs. This is because they picture those redeemed for a heavenly inheritance, who may well sing for joy (v. 12).
Commentators differ in how far they press this. Hamilton Smith reads the verse plainly, as God's provision for His creatures. Grant reads the same birds as a picture of the redeemed.
- Source. The psalm turns from God's dealings with His people to His dealings with creation — the water in verse 12 comes from the springs He sends.
- Reach. That water was never for man alone; it runs on to the beasts, and past them to birds whose only return is their voice.
- Sustained. The tense stays present. He sends, He waters, He causes the grass to grow. He holds creation up; He did not just start it.
- Shelter. Branches mean shade and a nesting place. The Old Testament returns to the image again and again, and the mustard-seed parable takes it up.
- Song. Birds are natural worshippers. They live above our heads, on paths no beast of the earth can follow. Some read them as a picture of those redeemed for a heavenly inheritance.
He watereth the mountains from his upper-chambers the earth is satisfied with the fruit of thy works.
Psalm 104 is a song of praise to God as Creator, and verse 13 follows the water: from the clouds, onto the hills, out into a satisfied earth. Does God still run the world He made, and what will this verse look like when creation is at rest?
One writer sets this psalm beside the opening of the Bible. He finds the same order of events, told in a different kind of writing.
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 presents creation at its beginning. The song shows creation as it is now, alive and at work. "One portrays the beginning of the eternal order, the other its ongoing living spectacle. 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."
One commentator names the "chambers" and turns the verse straight onto the reader. (These writers quote an older wording, with "hills" where the ESV says "mountains." The millennium they mention is the coming age of peace on earth.)
From "His upper chambers" — the clouds, He waters the hills, satisfying the earth with abundant provision (v. 13). If the earth is satisfied, then surely we also ought to be. All these things are true now, but will be more beautifully evident in the millennium.
Why do the hills appear in a verse about watering the whole earth? One writer reads them as part of a system, and draws a lesson from the ground that takes in the rain.
Next, we have God's irrigation system for the earth. The hills have their part in it, turning the rain from God's "upper chambers" this way or that, so that the rivers spread out to water the land. That which is nearest to heaven attracts most the rain of heaven; while by the law of its nature it cannot keep it, but must pass it on to others. So "the earth is satisfied." What receives the rain and bears fruit from it is not rock or sand, which resist the force that would break them up. It is ground that does the opposite: it yields and crumbles, as the humble and contrite heart yields to God, the divine Farmer.
The verbs in this part of the psalm are present, not past, and that detail carries the weight of the praise.
The psalmist does not think of the Creator only in His past work, as the Originator of all. He thinks of 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. Again he says, "He waters the hills," and "He causes the grass to grow." The Creator's present sustaining mercy fills the soul with praise.
The earth this verse waters is not an untouched earth. One writer sees the psalm celebrating God's hand at work in a creation spoiled by sin.
In Psalm 104 we again have Messiah, recognizing in spirit the glory and excellence of Jehovah in relation to creation. And the creation in view is not creation finally renewed, but creation under His providential government. … So here we see that the ruin sin has brought in is all around. Yet Jehovah has never let go His hand. He controls and orders it all by His providence. (Note that where there is no evil, there is no occasion for providence in the proper sense.)
One writer takes this very line as a picture of that coming peace. He adds that only a heart glad in God can enjoy His works.
Gladness in the Lord Himself alone qualifies a believer for the true enjoyment of His works. In this Psalm the Spirit of promise is declaring the true majesty and glory of Christ (Col. 1:16). The Psalm is a most beautiful description of the harmonious blessing of creation, held up in power by the God of the whole earth. It gives a view of millennial peace and order, as far as the outward material creation is concerned. "The earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work" (verse 13).
- Source. The "chambers" are the clouds, so every harvest begins above the hills, not in them.
- Channel. High ground attracts the most rain and cannot keep it. Ground that yields, unlike rock or sand, is the ground that bears fruit.
- Continuance. The verbs stay present — He sends, He waters, He causes to grow — so the psalm praises a Sustainer, not only an Originator.
- Constancy. The watering goes on inside a creation ruined by sin. God has never let go His hand, and that ordering care is what providence means.
- Consummation. What faith sees in part now will be plain in a world at peace, when the whole earth is satisfied with the fruit of His work.
He maketh the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man; bringing forth bread out of the earth,
Psalm 104 walks through creation, and verse 14 is where the song reaches the dinner table. Behind that ordinary sight the psalm puts a Person. Two questions follow: who feeds the world, and what does that make of us?
The verse sits in a run of psalms that praise God from different angles:
In Psalm 103 he blesses Jehovah as the Forgiver and Healer of His people; in Psalm 104 as the glorious Creator; in Psalm 105 as faithful to His covenant with the fathers, and to His promises.
It also follows the order of the creation account. Grass and plants for man belong to the same day:
God also made the grass grow for cattle, and plants for man's use, on the same day, along with the trees that bear fruit (vv. 14-17). Then came the moon to mark the seasons, and the sun, making darkness and light, on the fourth day.
The verse feeds the animals before it feeds man:
He also causes grass to grow for the farm animals, because He does not despise any of His creatures but shows them constant kindness. He provides other plants for man's use as well, and so brings food out of the earth (v. 14).
That care reaches creatures no farmer feeds:
In Psalm 104 the Psalmist praised Him who sends the springs into the valleys, so that they run among the mountains. They are not for man only, nor for every beast of the field, even the wildest of them, but for the birds as well, who sing out among the branches.
God gives man a place of honour here: the plants grow for his use. Yet one writer points to the twist in it. The creature set highest is the one least able to survive alone.
So the grass grows for cattle and plants for man's use. God is set on sustaining this creature. He has placed man on the earth with dignity, as His image and likeness, to know Him and to be for Him. And so He made him the most dependent of all, precisely because he is master of all. Where is there a creature born to such weakness and such long helplessness as a human baby? Where is there one so defenceless by nature as a man in his prime, with no tooth or claw, no strength or speed, and even his skin bare to the wind? What is meant to show itself in him is spirit, and it does show — but only as he owns his dependence and uses all God's gifts with care.
Food comes up out of the ground, and it still comes up in a world that has gone wrong:
The true God gives to all life and breath and everything else. Even in a ruined world this active goodness went out to all alike… How many are Your works, O Jehovah! In wisdom You have made them all. The earth is full of Your riches… What a commentary Psalm 104 is on God's sustaining goodness!
Because the harvest keeps coming, no one can say God has gone silent. Paul once made that point out loud, to a crowd in the town of Lystra:
When the Apostle Paul was preaching to the restless crowds at Lystra, he reminded them that in past times God had let the nations go their own ways. Even so, the rain given from heaven and the fruitful seasons, the food and gladness that filled their hearts, were a testimony to the Creator. He did not leave Himself without witness. God's witness to people through creation never stops.
If God is the one growing it, then eating is not a neutral act:
God knows our needs. He is a faithful Creator and He remembers how He has fashioned us. He has given us bodies, they need feeding, and He has provided food for that. Every mouthful we eat declares our dependence on God and should humble us before Him. We could not live without His provision for our daily needs. Knowing this would keep us from living independently of God, guard us from uncontrolled appetites, and keep us thankful to Him every day of our lives.
- He causes. The verb belongs to God. Psalm 104 blesses Him as the glorious Creator, as Psalm 103 blesses Him as Forgiver and Healer.
- He causes for cattle. The animals come first, because He does not despise any of His creatures. His springs run for the wildest beasts and for the birds.
- He causes for man. Plants grow for man's use. Yet God made the creature He set highest the most dependent of all — dignity and helplessness together on purpose.
- He causes still. Even in a ruined world this goodness goes out to all alike. Rain and fruitful seasons are His unceasing witness; He did not leave Himself without witness.
- So we answer. Every mouthful declares our dependence. That should humble us, guard us from uncontrolled appetites, and keep us thankful every day.
And wine which gladdeneth the heart of man; making [his] face shine with oil; and with bread he strengtheneth man's heart.
Psalm 104 sings of the Creator at work. Verse 15 stops on three things that come out of the ground — wine, oil and bread. Why does God give what gladdens and beautifies a man, and not only what keeps him alive?
The psalm does not describe a world God once made and then left.
The psalmist does not think of the Creator only in His past work as the Originator of all, but in His present work as the Sustainer of His creation. So he can say, "He sends the springs" — not simply that He sent them in the past; He does so now. Again he says, "He waters the hills," and "He causes the grass to grow." It is the present sustaining mercy of the Creator that fills the soul with praise.
The giving reaches everyone alike, and it goes on in a world spoiled by sin.
The true God gives to all life and breath and all things. Even in a ruined world this active kindness went out impartially. He makes the grass grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man… What a comment Psalm 104 is on God's sustaining goodness!
The word for "man" here means frail man. One writer notes how the psalm repeats it: the same weak creature gets both his gladness and his strength.
Truly he is "frail man" (enosh); but now, sadly, he is called to know a frailty that comes not from creation but from his sin. There is discipline for him in it, which he needs, and in it divine love still acts. That added need has brought out God's tenderness as never before: the wine that gladdens frail man's heart, the bread that strengthens frail man's heart. How the words, and the repetition of the words, breathe of God's thoughtful care in holding up one who may so easily give way to discouragement!
The same wine appears in the offerings poured out to God, and there it stands for joy. That corrects anyone who thinks God enjoys our misery.
A "drink offering" is poured on too. This was of wine, "wine to gladden the heart of man," wine "which cheers God and man." It is a symbol of joy, and it goes with all the offerings except the sin and trespass offerings… The monkish idea that devotion is a gloomy and painful exercise is not divine; it is devilish. Many excellent people have done much to encourage and keep that idea alive, though it is a gross slander on God and godliness.
Some have read the wine of this verse as unfermented grape juice. One writer answers that the same reasoning would turn the bread into corn.
The teetotal argument built on Psalm 104:13-15 is worthless, because oil and bread, no less than wine, are said to be brought out of the earth. If the context proves "wine" to mean grapes, it equally proves "bread" to mean corn; and if the second is unreasonable, so is the first.
Another writer traces the question back to the Creator.
Whatever God has created is good; it is man's sin that turns it into evil. Drunkenness is the abuse of a creature of God. The created thing itself is good, and its proper use is beneficial. But treating the thing as evil really reproaches God with having created an evil thing, and so far reduces or denies man's sin in the matter.
Commentators do not stop at the harvest. They read the three gifts as pictures of a lasting blessing.
These things perish in the using. For us they are only the types of what our spiritual blessing is in its eternally rich and endlessly ample character. The antitype of the corn is clearly the person of Christ Himself… Of the wine we find the antitype in His work of redemption; for in this sense alone can we understand the heart of God to be cheered by wine… And of the oil the antitype is the Holy Spirit poured out — the holy anointing oil.
The oil explains the shining face. The light is borrowed, not our own:
It is the anointing of the Holy Spirit alone that lights up the face with the reflection of that glorified One on high.
- Giver. God did not just start the world. He keeps it going — still sending the springs, watering the hills, growing the grass.
- Given to the frail. The word for man means frail man. Wine for his gladness and bread for his strength are gifts sized to a creature who soon loses heart.
- Gladness intended. Wine stands for joy in nearly every offering. One writer calls gloomy religion a slander on God.
- Good, not evil. What God made is good. Sin is the abuse of it. Calling the thing evil shifts the blame from man to the Creator.
- Greater fulfilment. Writers read the three gifts as pictures: Christ Himself, His work of redemption, and the Spirit poured out. His anointing makes the face shine.
The trees of Jehovah are satisfied, the cedars of Lebanon, which he hath planted,
Psalm 104 is a song about the Creator. After the grass, bread, wine and oil that keep people alive, the singer looks up at the great trees on the mountains of Lebanon. The verse raises two questions: whose trees are these, and what are they for?
One writer reads verses 10–18 as one sweep of God's provision. He stops on the tense of the psalm's verbs.
The psalmist does not think of the Creator only in His past work as the Originator of all, but 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. Again he says, "He waters the hills," and "He causes the grass to grow." It is the present sustaining mercy of the Creator that fills the soul with praise.
The ESV says the trees are "watered abundantly." Older translations read "full of sap." One writer renders the word "satisfied," and his translation also stresses whose trees these are:
Satisfied are Jehovah's trees, cedars of Lebanon which He planted, where small birds nestle: for the stork, firs are her house.
Why does the psalm name the cedar of Lebanon in particular?
A beautiful tall tree. Solomon used it widely in building the temple and his palaces. It is called 'cedar' from the firmness of its roots. Its wood is very durable and fragrant... You cannot count it as one of the trees of Palestine proper. Scripture always links it with Lebanon, where it still grows in a group of some three hundred, a few of them very old, with no other trees near. The people living nearby regard them with reverence.
The obvious use of a cedar is timber for a king's palace. The psalm points somewhere else — to the small creatures that live in the branches.
God planted the grand spreading cedars not for man's use only, and not for taste or pride. He planted them for the birds too, to make their nests — unless the taller firs suit some birds better still.
Another writer keeps the tree's own excellence and its use to others together, then widens the view to the whole landscape.
"The trees of Jehovah are full": strength, beauty, delicacy of workmanship, are in those "cedars of Lebanon which He has planted." And then they do not grow simply for themselves. They serve the birds, who flock rejoicing to nest in their cover. The gloomy fir gives hospitable shelter to the home-loving stork. The high hills, too, give a refuge to feet like the wild goat's, made ready for such ground. The very clefts of the rock give one to the timid and weak hyrax. So the earth is a house of many chambers.
Commentators also read the trees as figures of men and women. One writer sees in the cedar a picture of human greatness, and then follows the tree's use to the birds:
"The trees of the Lord are full," for they share in the fulness of God's provision, and they picture mankind in various ways (v. 16). The cedars are specified, the most prominent of trees, speaking of man's great honour and glory. But the trees are a provision of God for birds (v. 17). The stork is mentioned as living in the fir trees (evergreens), and the changing seasons do not affect them.
Another writer applies the same picture to God's own people. He also notes that Scripture uses the tree for Nebuchadnezzar, a king of Babylon.
"The trees of the Lord are full of sap," we read in the Psalms (Ps. 104:16), speaking of the saints. But we find the tree also used in connection with Nebuchadnezzar. It seems to refer to persons, does it not?
- Planted. The cedars are His because He planted them. No tree put itself there.
- Satisfied. "Full of sap" means filled and content. One rendering has "satisfied are Jehovah's trees." His care now, not a past act, keeps them full.
- Rooted. The cedar takes its name from the firmness of its roots. Its wood is durable, and Solomon used it in the temple — height and endurance together.
- Sheltering. The tree does not grow for itself. The birds nest in it, the stork uses the firs, the goat has the hills, the hyrax the rock clefts. The earth is a house of many chambers.
- Picturing. These trees stand for people. The honour and glory are God-given, held by those He planted, and used to shelter others.
Where the birds make their nests; [as for] the stork, the fir trees are her house.
Psalm 104 walks through creation piece by piece. By verse 17 the singer has reached the trees — not to admire their height, but to notice who lives in them. The cedars and firs God planted are housing. Why does the Maker of the world think about where a bird will raise its young?
The psalm does not leave God's work in the past. One writer points to the tense of the verbs:
The psalmist does not think of the Creator only in His past work as the Originator of all. He thinks of Him in His present work as the Sustainer of His creation. So the psalmist can say, "He sends the springs." He does not mean only that God sent them long ago; He does so now. Again he says, "He waters the hills," and "He causes the grass to grow." It is the present sustaining mercy of the Creator that fills the soul with praise. The psalmist also sees creation in the fullness of its life and activity. The springs are not simply made — they "run among the hills." The wild beasts quench their thirst at the streams. The birds sing and make their nests in the branches of the trees.
The short lines he quotes come from earlier verses of the psalm in an older translation.
Verse 16 speaks of trees the Lord planted. One writer follows the psalm from those cedars out to the hills and the rocks:
"The trees of the LORD are full": strength, beauty, and fine workmanship are in those "cedars of Lebanon which He has planted." And they do not grow only for themselves. They serve the birds that flock with joy to nest in their cover. The gloomy fir gives a welcoming home to the home-loving stork. The high hills, too, give a refuge for feet like the wild goat's, feet made for that very purpose. The clefts of the rock provide one for the timid, weak hyrax. So the earth is a house of many rooms, where its many tenants each find what they need. God is the great host of them all.
The great cedars look like timber for human use. One writer says that is not the whole reason they stand:
God planted the tall, spreading cedars not for man's use only, and not for looks or pride. He planted them for the birds too, so they could make their nests — unless the taller firs suit some birds better still.
Why does the psalm pair this bird with a fir tree? The answer is practical:
It makes its nest in the fir trees. Ps. 104:17. This agrees with the stork; it is a large bird, and selects a tree that is high and yet one that will well support its nest.
Another writer reads the trees as a picture of people, and notes that firs stay green all year:
"The trees of the LORD are full," for they share in the fullness of God's provision, and they picture mankind in various ways (v. 16). But the trees are God's provision for birds (v. 17). The stork is mentioned as living in the fir trees, which are evergreens. The changing seasons do not affect them.
The stork's Hebrew name is worth a look, and so is where the law placed the bird:
The word chasidah is related to the word translated "merciful." The bird is remarkable for its tender care, not only of its young, but of the aged. The law's list of clean and unclean creatures puts it among the unclean birds. Lev. 11:19; Deut. 14:18. This we might expect, since it feeds on mice, snakes and other reptiles.
If God houses a bird like this, what should His own children conclude? One writer draws the comparison:
Such creatures receive His kindness all the time, the unclean as surely as the clean. How much more must His sons receive it! The argument moves from creatures that are lower and further off to those whom grace is pleased to bring into the nearest relationship with Himself. The Lord's aim is to impress on His disciples, so favoured, their duty to trust the love of their Father without a doubt or a fear. Why should they not trust Him, instead of giving in to the anxiety that is natural to people who do not know God at all, or who own Him in a far lower way?
- Planted. The cedars and firs are trees "which He has planted" — God grew the house before the tenant needed it.
- Shared. They do not grow for themselves. The tall tree spends its whole life sheltering birds that could never have built it.
- Fitted. God matches each creature to its place. A high tree holds a large bird's nest. Hills suit wild goats, and rock clefts hide the small and weak.
- Sustained. The verbs stay in the present. He sends, He waters, He causes to grow; this is mercy happening now, not a memory of a finished project.
- Applied. He keeps a house for a bird Israel could not even eat. So His own children have no reason to be afraid.
The high mountains are for the wild goats; the cliffs, a refuge for the rock-badgers.
Psalm 104 is a long song of praise to God as Creator. By verse 18 the psalmist has moved from the seas and springs and trees down to the animals that live among the rocks. He names two of them: the wild goat on the peaks and the small rock badger in the cliffs. Why does a psalm about the greatness of God stop to note where small animals sleep?
The verse closes a section about God's supply. What He gives is not only food but shelter.
The psalmist sings of the rich provision that God has made for His creatures... He sees the grass and herbs for the food of His creatures and the trees and the high hills for their shelter (vv. 14-18). The psalmist does not think of the Creator only in His past work as the One who made everything. He thinks of Him in His present work as the Sustainer of His creation. So the psalmist can say that God sends the springs — not simply that He sent them long ago. He does so now.
God's care for His creatures runs right up into the hills and into the cliffs.
The high hills also give a refuge to feet like those of the wild goat — feet specially prepared for them. The very clefts of the rock give a refuge to the timid and feeble rock badger. So the earth is a house of many rooms, where its different tenants each find their own provision.
Each animal fits the ground it lives on.
"The high mountains are for the wild goats," and their feet are well suited to the rough struggle that rocks bring (v. 18). Rock badgers choose cliffs as a strong refuge from predators.
The wild goat is a mountain creature, and its Hebrew name says what it does.
Engedi means "the spring of the young goat." There Saul later went to look for David and his men among the rocks of the wild goats (1 Sam. 24:2). The Hebrew word for these goats means "climbers." The Psalmist says, "The high mountains are for the wild goats" (Ps. 104:18) — and up there you find the spring. The mountains raise a hardy race, used to overcoming difficulties, and the wilderness has water for them. Difficulties call for faith, and they increase the faith they call for. God has special cheer for special need.
David hid in this same rocky country. One writer draws out what the spring among those crags meant for him.
Faith may have to leap from rock to rock on harsh peaks, with hardly any footing, chased all the while by bitter hatred. Even then it carries with it the well of water springing up to eternal life, and that keeps the spirit fresh.
Older Bibles call this animal a "coney," which sounds like a rabbit. Writers who study the word say it is a different creature.
The rabbit, which is only another name for coney, is not known in Palestine. The Hebrew word shaphan is thought to mean the Syrian hyrax, an animal about the size of a rabbit... It fits everything else said about the shaphan. It lives among the rocks, as it always does, and it is very quick at leaping from rock to rock (Ps. 104:18). It is also very hard to catch. One of them keeps watch while the others feed, and at the first sign of an enemy it gives a signal and they all vanish. This agrees with its being called "exceedingly wise" (Prov. 30:24, 26).
Proverbs calls this same little creature wise. Writers read its habit as a picture of where safety comes from.
Its condition may be very feeble, yet its position is strong. What a fitting picture of the sinner saved by the grace of God! He is weak as water in himself, yet "in Christ" he has a position nothing can break: "the Rock was Christ" (1 Cor. 10:4). The weakness of the little creature does not discourage him, but drives him to the safety of a strong refuge.
Another writer turns the same habit into a lesson for people.
Second, faith seeks a place of refuge. The rock badgers show this. They are "a people not mighty, yet they make their homes in the cliffs."... Those who have fled to Christ for refuge are prudent in God's sight. Those who brush Him and His great salvation aside are the simple ones, however wise they think they are.
- Maker. God is praised not only for starting creation but for keeping it going now. He still sends the springs. He still gives the shelter.
- Rooms. The earth is a house of many rooms. Every tenant has its own place, and no creature lives where it does by accident.
- Fitted. The wild goat's feet suit rough rock; the rock badger's cliffs keep predators off. God matches the creature to the place He gives it.
- Heights. The mountains raise a hardy race of climbers, and the spring is up there too. Hard ground calls for faith, and God has special cheer for special need.
- Refuge. The rock badger is weak in itself but strong in its position. Weakness does not shut you out of safety; it drives you to the refuge.