He raiseth up the poor out of the dust; from the dung-hill he lifteth up the needy,
Psalm 113 is a psalm of praise that moves from the height of God's glory to the lowest place a person can occupy on earth. The wonder of verse 7 is not that God rules. It is that the One who dwells on high bends down to the dust and the ash heap. And He does not just relieve the person He finds there — He seats him with princes.
God's stooping is part of His greatness, not a break from it. His looking down is never idle. It ends in lifting.
The greatness of the Lord is shown further in the grace that stoops. The One whose dwelling is on high humbles Himself to look on the heavens and the earth. And looking upon the earth He raises up the poor. He lifts up the needy. He blesses the hopeless, for He makes the barren woman a joyful mother of children.
The same movement is caught in a single line: He dwells on high, yet looks down that low, and He does it with a purpose.
He is Israel's God who dwells on high, yet looks down so low, but to exalt those He loves, to set them with the princes of His people, and fill the hopeless with joy in their habitation.
The ash heap is not vague poetry. It names a real figure in the lands of the Bible — the man nobody wants — and the God who lifts him is the God of resurrection.
He is Abraham's God, the God of resurrection… The dunghill is an emblem of the deepest poverty and desertion. In Syria and Palestine the man who is shut out from society lies on the mezbele (the dunghill or heap of ashes) by day, calling to the passers-by for alms. By night he hides himself in the ashes, warmed by the sun.
This is not an isolated act of kindness. It is how God works, and it carries a lesson we keep forgetting.
One principle comes before us here. We cannot hear it too often, and we constantly tend to forget it. God chooses weak things, so that it may be clear that good and blessing come from His power and love. God uses means. But when people speak of means, they usually do not mean turning the heart to God, prayer, His word, and the like. They mean leaning on human influence and human strength. This is all evil… Blessing would not be divine blessing at all if it were not so.
Commentators trace the wording of verse 7 back to the song of Hannah. She had no children until God gave her a son. They hear her song taken up again by a whole nation.
In Psalm 113 the despised and persecuted remnant of Israel will echo the language of Hannah in 1 Samuel 2:8… And we may see Hannah's joy at no longer being childless as a picture of the blessing of women in Israel, when the Lord brings His people back from captivity. So the Psalm rightly ends with "Hallelujah."
Verse 7 runs on into verse 8. The gap between where God finds a person and where He seats him is the whole point.
The extremes are enormous! The dust and the dunghill stand in vivid contrast to the throne. And the poor man and the beggar are moved from the one to the other — from real degradation to great dignity and honour. Yet this is how grace chooses to act. If we had to reach that height by our own effort, or earn it by merit, the prospect would dazzle and bewilder us. It would baffle and outrun anything we could imagine.
Commentators also read the verse forward, to what God does now for anyone He saves.
Mary's song, at the beginning of the New Testament, reminds us — could we ever forget it — of one birth that could not have happened unless God stooped down to man. That birth has taken the place of all others for us here. And with it has come, for everyone who receives divine grace now, the promise and the power of a resurrection. By it God raises those more degraded than the dwellers on the dunghill to a higher place than princes! Hallelujah!
God's lift starts in the dust. So admitting we are there is not a barrier to blessing; it is the road into it.
For such a result, it is worth while a thousand times over to go deep down into the dust of repentance. It is worth admitting fully that we are poor beggars, so that grace may raise us, even from there, to the throne of glory.
- Stoops — God's greatness includes His stooping. The One who dwells on high humbles Himself to look down, and His looking ends in lifting.
- Dust — the ash heap pictures an outcast. He begs by day and hides in warm ashes by night: the deepest poverty, the man society has shut out.
- Chooses — God works this way on purpose. He takes up weak things, so the blessing plainly comes from His power and love, not from human strength.
- Lifts — the distance is the marvel: from dust and ash heap to a seat among princes. No effort or merit could ever reach that height.
- Sings — Hannah's song becomes a nation's song, and the psalm ends in praise. The same grace still raises those who admit where they are.
To set [him] among nobles, among the nobles of his people.
Psalm 113 moves from God's height to God's stoop. Verse 8 says where He is taking the person He lifts out of the dust: to a seat among the nobles of His own people. Why does God reach that low, and how far does His lifting go?
The seat in verse 8 is the last step of a movement that starts with God bending down. That stoop is where His greatness shows:
The greatness of the Lord is set forth in His condescending grace. The One whose dwelling is on high humbles Himself to look on the heavens and the earth. And looking upon the earth He raises up the poor; He lifts up the needy; and He blesses the hopeless, for He makes the barren to be the joyful mother of children.
"The dust" and "the dunghill" of the previous verse are not vague poetry. They describe a real place in the ancient world, and a real class of person:
He "raises the exhausted from the dust; He lifts up the needy from the dunghill." The dunghill is "an emblem of the deepest poverty and desertion. In Syria and Palestine the man who is shut out from society lies on the mezbele (the dunghill or heap of ashes). By day he calls to the passers-by for alms, and by night he hides himself in the ashes that the sun has warmed."
The word translated "princes" means more than rank. The same writer then takes the promise further, into resurrection:
Out of this misery and degradation God still lifts a man up. He puts a wretch like this among the nobles (nedibhim; the men of princely generosity) — yes, the nobles of His people... And with this has come the promise and the power of a resurrection for everyone who now receives divine grace. It raises those more degraded than the dwellers on the dunghill to a higher place than princes! Hallelujah!
If God lifted the strong, people would credit the result to strength. So He starts at the bottom:
God chooses weak things, so that it may be evident that good and blessing come from His power and love. God uses means. But when man talks about means, he does not mean turning the heart to God, or prayer, or His word. He means leaning on man's influence and man's strength... Such are God's ways. The heart delights in them.
Two women sang this same theme. Hannah was a wife with no children; Mary was the mother of Jesus:
This is a rich and lofty note of thanksgiving to Jehovah for all that He has done in grace for His people. It uses two striking pictures: raising the poor one out of the dust, and giving the childless woman a home. The songs of Hannah (1 Sam. 2) and of Mary (Luke 1) are akin to this; and they were, in their day, the poor one and the barren wife, and, in a mystery, Jerusalem.
Commentators differ on when this happens. Some read the promise as still ahead, in the nation of Israel's future blessing:
He has humbled Himself so that others might be lifted up — and these are the lowliest of people. They are the poor raised from the dust and the needy from the ash heap, a burned-out existence. And these He has seated with princes (v. 8). Marvellous grace! This will be seen above all in the great blessing Israel will experience in the millennium.
The same road runs through Jacob, the man God renamed Israel. First came the confession:
There must be the fullest confession if we want the blessing. If God is not to hold anything back from us, we must keep nothing back from Him... He learns two lessons here, which we also must learn: his weakness and his sinfulness... Once these two lessons are learned, God can come in and say to him, "Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel." What a change! But so it is: God "raises the poor from the dust... to make them sit with princes, with the princes of his people."
- Stoop. The lifting in verse 8 starts with God stooping to look. His greatness shows in that grace; it is not put aside by it.
- Dust. The starting point is literal: the outcast on the ash heap, begging by day and burrowing into warm ashes by night.
- Seat. The goal is not just relief but rank. God seats the poor among the nobles of His people, and resurrection lifts them higher still.
- Why. God chooses weak things on purpose. Then anyone can see the blessing comes from His power and love, not from human strength.
- Who. Hannah, Mary, Jacob and a restored Israel all sing the same line. The confession of weakness comes first; the new name comes after.