(A Psalm of David; when he was in the wilderness of Judah.) O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee. My soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh languisheth for thee, in a dry and weary land without water
David wrote this as a fugitive in the wilderness of Judah. It was a place with nothing to drink and nothing to spare. What is striking is not that he was thirsty, but what he was thirsty for.
The verse begins with a settled relationship, and only then moves to the search:
The psalmist exclaims, "You are my God"; by faith he recognises the power and goodness of God. Encouraged by the sight, he then resolves, "earnestly I seek you" (Ps. 63:1). He formed his purpose to seek God on the basis of what God already was to him.
That relationship was not created by the crisis. God was already his God before the desert.
Older translations read "early will I seek you." The object of the search is the surprise:
There is activity of soul in seeking God like this. The soul thirsty for God seeks Him. There is diligence in seeking God for Himself, and the mouth is open for everything. The Psalm does not speak of seeking water. When a man is thirsty, he seeks water. But here it is more a thirst for Him who gives the water.
Another writer presses the same point further, noticing what David never asks for:
He does not even ask to be delivered. His thirst is not the thirst of the desert but the thirst of the soul after God — and this too, to see His power and His glory where He revealed Himself. A dry and weary land only makes the longing for God fully revealed stronger.
One writer explains the two words David uses for himself here, soul and flesh:
The soul is the centre of the spiritual emotions. The flesh here is simply his bodily condition, not a matter of the sinful nature.
One writer looks closely at where David was, and at what he did not ask for there:
When David wrote this Psalm he was in the wilderness of Judah, which he calls a dry and weary land where there is no water. It was a place of no resources, completely bare of the most basic necessities of life. Yet in a spot like that he was not crying out for food or water, and much less for any of the luxuries of life. He was thirsting for God — His power, His glory, His loving-kindness. God had become infinitely attractive to him: he no longer feared Him but desired Him.
One writer applies "no water" to the world the believer passes through, and describes the exchange that follows:
How long it often takes us to learn that this is the character of the scene we are passing through! But we must grasp the lesson if we are to know, in any measure, what God is in Himself. God, by His various discipline, is always pressing it home... The moment the soul can write "no water" over this scene, it becomes free to enjoy God. If it can truly say, "I have nothing here," God will at once step in and say, "Now I will be everything to you."
One writer asks what salvation is finally for:
Salvation, and the assurance of it, however blessed in itself, is not an end, but a means to an end. The end is that God may take full possession of the saved soul, and that the saved soul may take full possession of God... God Himself becomes our supreme desire, and that pleases Him greatly.
One writer hears a greater voice than David's in these words — Jesus, who crossed the same barren ground:
This world never gave Him one drop of water to quench His thirst, or one green blade to refresh His eye. Yet He did not complain. He trusted in the Lord and waited for Him. All His fresh springs were on high. He drank at the fountain; yet, as man, He thirsted for God — the living God — as no one else ever did.
- Relationship first. "You are my God" comes before "I seek you" — the pursuit rests on a bond already real, formed long before the wilderness.
- Thirst, redirected. David does not seek water, and does not even ask for rescue; he thirsts for the One who gives the water.
- Emptiness, honestly named. Writing "no water" over this world is not despair — it is the moment the soul becomes free to enjoy God.
- Salvation, not the finish line. Rescue is the means; God taking full possession of the soul, and the soul taking full possession of God, is the end.
- Christ, the pattern. He crossed the same dry land with nothing to refresh Him. He thirsted for God as no one else ever has.
To see thy power and thy glory, as I have beheld thee in the sanctuary;
David wrote this psalm far from home, in the wilderness of Judah. Here he looks back on what he had already seen of God's power and glory in the sanctuary, and that memory only deepens his thirst.
The psalm's opening lines belong to someone shut out from the place where God met His people.
The psalm opens with the longing of the heart for God. It is the longing of a god-fearing Jew, cast out of the land and far from the sanctuary. Both soul and body — the whole man — longs for God, while still in a desert where there is no water, nothing to refresh the soul.
What he wants in that barren place is not what a man in a desert would ask for.
When David wrote this Psalm he was in the wilderness of Judah, which he calls "a dry and weary land where there is no water." It was a place of no resources, completely barren of the most basic necessities of life. Yet in such a spot he was not crying out for food or water, much less for any luxury. He was thirsting for God — His power, His glory, His loving-kindness. God had become infinitely attractive to him: David no longer feared Him but desired Him.
Two different Hebrew words stand behind this verse. One is simply to see; the other is a gaze already had.
"To see You" (lir'oth uzz'cha, to see Your strength), "as I have seen" (khazithikha, I have beheld You) — "contemplated," "had the vision of." So verse 1 shows the state of soul — absolute perfection in desire (moral perfection); verse 2, the condition longed for; verse 3, the present result in blessing.
God's greatness is on display everywhere, but the sanctuary is where it is understood.
"In the sanctuary" (v. 2) is where God's power and glory are truly seen. His greatness is clear in creation, yet you do not learn what it means by watching creation. You learn it in the secret of the presence of God. And loving-kindness better than life (v. 3) wonderfully tempers that power and glory, which moves the heart to praise such a God.
David is not living off a memory as a substitute. The memory is the fuel.
The memory of past displays of God's power and glory in His dwelling-place inflamed his desire to see more. It is always so. The more we know, the more we have grasped, the more we want to know… In other words, five minutes spent with Christ will produce in us the desire for ten. His glory has been revealed to us with no veil over it. So our longing of soul after Him should keep growing, until nothing short of being with Him where He is would satisfy us.
Notice what the thirst is aimed at. It is not for benefits received but for a Person seen.
In place of the saint seeking his own blessing in the courts of the Lord, right as that may be, we find him longing to see the power and glory of God. This is a blessed state of soul to be in, above all when in the sanctuary or seated at the Lord's table. In place of thinking about good to ourselves, we should be thinking about glory to Him.
Commentators carry this forward in two directions. The first is the believer today, who has a better sanctuary than David ever entered.
We too are in the wilderness, for that is what the world becomes to those whom the cross of Christ has saved out of it… We too have known God in His sanctuary. Not in that tent pitched over the ark, where David sought the Lord, nor in the magnificent temple that Solomon built. We have known Him in that far more wonderful sanctuary our Lord meant when "He spoke of the temple of His body" (John 2:21). We have seen God, revealed in Jesus, through His Word. Having begun to know Him in this way, we thirst to know Him better.
The second direction is upward, to Christ Himself.
He recalls what he had once seen of God's power and glory in the sanctuary — think here of Him who had left the glory which He had with the Father before the world was! And he longs for this again, praising Him for loving-kindness better than life itself, a joy that makes God supreme in the heart that holds it.
- Wilderness. The psalm comes from a dry land with no resources. The cry there is not for water but for God Himself.
- Sanctuary. Creation shows God's greatness, but you learn its meaning in the secret of His presence. That is where power and glory are truly seen.
- Sight. The Hebrew looks back to a gaze already had. Verse 1 gives the state of the soul, verse 2 what it longs for.
- Thirst. Past sight does not settle the heart, it inflames it — five minutes with Christ creates the desire for ten.
- Glory. The longing ends not in blessing for yourself but in glory to Him. Commentators trace it upward to the One who left the glory He had with the Father.
For thy loving-kindness is better than life my lips shall praise thee.
David wrote this psalm in the wilderness: dry land, no water, enemies close by, and no sanctuary. From there he says something surprising: God's steadfast love — "loving-kindness" in older translations — is worth more than life itself.
The verse does not start with praise. It starts with a reason.
Now the psalm shows the effects of having God as the soul's only portion. Verses 3 and 7 introduce them with the word "because." The first, then, is, "Because your loving-kindness is better than life, my lips shall praise you." This is exceedingly beautiful. "Whoever loves his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." The Psalmist had "lost" his life here. There was no water, no springs of life in the dry and thirsty land he travelled through as a pilgrim. But he had found that God's loving-kindness — God known in grace — was better than life. This is what produced praise, praise that never stops.
Life does not last. God's loving-kindness does.
"Your power, Your glory" — power that supports, glory that lifts the heart — surely the wilderness blossoms like the rose! Praise flows to You, for Your loving kindness which is better than life. Life is so uncertain and so brief: His loving kindness is so sure, so enduring! This makes life worth living, even with its trials, causing the soul to bless God's Name.
Verse 2 speaks of seeing God in the sanctuary. One writer ties that sight to the love praised in verse 3.
"In the sanctuary" (v. 2) is where God's power and glory are truly seen. His greatness shows in creation, yet no one learns what it means by watching creation. You learn it in the secret of God's presence. But loving-kindness better than life (v. 3) tempers that power and glory in a wonderful way, and it moves the heart deeply to praise such a God.
This praise does not come from comfort. It comes from a place that supplies nothing.
So, in the sense of this loving kindness, in a dry and thirsty land his lips praised his God. This is very sweet. Note that it is perfect in its nature, because it is simply God. In the land the believer is in, there is nothing at all. God, his God, is his desire. His loving kindness is the refreshing of his soul. This is perfect divine life in someone who has the divine nature, but in the place of dependence. Only the soul born of God knows it. So it was with Christ.
If God's love is better than life, then even losing life does not end the praise.
"Your loving-kindness is better than life"; but it brings death upon one. No matter: "give thanks in all circumstances." What! in sorrow? Yes, to be sure, we have the key to the joy in having Himself... "My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food." What! in the desert? Yes, that is the very place, because God Himself is his portion.
It even changes how the wilderness looks.
There we see David under a heavy trial. The land is dry and thirsty, with no water. The people he meets here and there are enemies — some open, some traitors. Where is the refuge? "Your loving kindness is better than life; my lips shall praise You." And as he enjoys God's goodness, the wilderness drops out of sight. It is no longer scarcity and hardship. It is fat and rich food, and his strength is renewed.
This joy has a source that cannot change.
He recalls what he had once seen of the divine power and glory in the sanctuary... and he praises Him for a loving-kindness better than life itself. It is a joy that makes God supreme in the heart that holds it. There is no excess in this cup, and it never runs dry. This joy is found in the unchanging nature of God, and it will last because He lasts. So the heart can say, "So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands."
- Because — Praise here is an effect, not a mood. The word "because" makes God's love the cause and the praising lips the result.
- Better — Life is short and uncertain; His steadfast love is sure and lasting, so the scales tip one way only.
- Seen — You do not read this love off creation. You learn it in God's presence, where loving-kindness tempers power and glory.
- Nowhere — The dry land supplies nothing, which is exactly why the praise is pure: it rests on God alone.
- Unfailing — This joy rests on God's unchanging nature. It outlasts sorrow, the desert, and life itself — so the lips keep praising.
So will I bless thee while I live; I will lift up my hands in thy name.
David wrote this psalm in the wilderness of Judah, far from the sanctuary where he had seen God's power and glory. Verse 4 is his answer to that exile, and the word "so" ties his promise back to what he has just said.
The man making this promise has no sanctuary and no settled home. He is in the wilderness, and praise is what he has.
Psalm 63 is the longing of the soul, still cast out and far from the sanctuary. (So we can speak of heaven, for we have seen the power and glory there by faith.) But by faith in the loving-kindness itself, the soul has praise as its portion even in the wilderness, with rich food to feed on. It is a beautiful psalm in this respect, for it knows God. Praise is born in the soul this way, and for all times.
The "so" of verse 4 reaches back to verse 3. God's loving-kindness is better than life itself, and praise fed by that can run the whole length of a life.
He praises Him for loving-kindness better than life itself. That joy makes God supreme in the heart that holds it. This cup is never too much, and it never runs dry. The joy is found in the unchanging nature of God. It will last because He lasts. So the heart can say, "So I will bless You as long as I live; in Your name I will lift up my hands."
One writer contrasts this joy with a heart still looking for something to lift it.
In Psalm 63 the soul is in the state in which Psalm 42 ends. This is not an oppressed heart looking around for something to make it joyful. It is a heart rejoicing, because the spring is there. "So I will bless You as long as I live."
"I will bless" and "I will lift up" are both future. They belong to a chain of resolutions running through the psalm, and one writer traces the steps.
This desire is no passing whim of the moment, but the settled purpose of his will. So we note the steps by which he plans to reach it. (1) My lips will praise You, v. 3. (2) In Your name I will lift up my hands, v. 4. (3) My soul will be (or is) satisfied, and my mouth will praise You with joyful lips, v. 5. (4) I remember You … I meditate on You. You have been my help, vv. 6-7. (5) My soul follows hard after You: Your right hand upholds me, v. 8.
We are used to God blessing people. Here a man blesses God — and the word carries a definite sense.
To bless means to "speak good." God's speaking good about His people has enriched them beyond all of man's golden dreams… Our speaking good to God cannot and does not enrich Him. But it is a response to God the Father from His children. It answers to His love and gives Him His true place, and it always rises to Him as a sweet fragrance. Blessing that rises from His children in response to the Father's love is therefore something very close to worship.
Raised hands are an old posture of prayer. Here they are lifted in God's name, and one writer says what fills them.
Paul uses the phrase in 1 Timothy 2:8, "lifting holy hands." As we come into the presence of God, we know that we are speaking to Him. We know that He is listening to us. When we bless God we offer something to Him; our hands are filled with the excellence of Christ.
The same hands serve two purposes, and the second is not less welcome than the first.
The hands, so often lifted up in prayer toward God's house, are to be lifted up in praise. When they were raised in prayer the Lord answered; He will be no less mindful when they are lifted in praise.
- Cause. The "so" of verse 4 rests on verse 3: God's loving-kindness is better than life, and that is what sets the praise going.
- Constancy. The joy holds because God does not change. It "will last because He lasts," so the promise can cover a whole life.
- Choice. Blessing God here is a settled purpose of the will. It is one link in a chain that runs from lips, to hands, to a soul following hard after Him.
- Content. To bless God is to "speak good" of Him — a response that adds nothing to Him, yet rises to Him as worship.
- Conditions. David says all this in the wilderness. There praise, not relief, is his portion.
My soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise [thee] with joyful lips.
David sang this line from the wilderness of Judah, a dry land with no water. Yet he speaks of rich food and of lips that never stop praising. Where does a man in a desert find a feast?
One writer traces how David's exile from the place where God dwelt among His people becomes a pattern for the believer.
The heading of the psalm gives its position. It is a psalm of David when he was in the wilderness of Judah. He was cast out from the privileges of Israel, and shut out from all access to God as He dwells among His people. In this way he became the picture and the voice of a later remnant, cast out of Jerusalem while wickedness holds power in the city. That makes his position match the Christian's all the more closely. He too is in the wilderness, and longs after God, as revealed in Christ, in the place where He dwells. Substitute heaven for Jerusalem, and the believer now can adopt the language of this psalm with a fuller and deeper meaning.
The same writer shows what happens when a soul admits it has nothing here.
How long it often takes us to learn that the scene we are passing through is a dry and thirsty land! But we must grasp the lesson, and God uses all His discipline to press it on us. Only then do we know in any measure what God is in Himself: that He alone, beyond all the blessings He gives, is the portion of our inheritance and of our cup. The more we surrender everything here, and accept death upon all that might attract and chain us, the more we discover what boundless resources we have in God Himself... But the moment the soul can write "no water" over this scene, it becomes free to enjoy God. If it can honestly say, "I have nothing here," God will step in at once and say, "Now I will be everything to you."
The ESV renders "marrow and fatness" as "fat and rich food." One commentator ties this fullness to David's thirst, and asks what such satisfaction would do to onlookers.
Thirst like the psalmist's is bound to be fully met. So he speaks of his soul again in verse 5: "My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness." This means satisfaction of a very full and abundant kind. David was in a dry and thirsty land without water, yet he was enjoying marrow and fatness. In the same way, we are to be full of satisfaction in the middle of an empty and dissatisfied world. This is what God desires and purposes for us all. If Christians everywhere showed a deep and lasting satisfaction, we think the men of the world would be more deeply impressed by it than by all the gospel sermons ever preached.
So the satisfaction does not come from the wilderness itself.
It is not that we are to be satisfied with the circumstances themselves. There can be no rest, let alone satisfaction, in circumstances that are full of sin and sorrow and death. We are to be satisfied in them by keeping in touch with Him who is the Source of satisfaction, even while they surround us. Then we are so satisfied that praise fills us. In the Psalm, expressions of praise surround the words "My soul shall be satisfied."
The second half of the verse speaks of joyful lips. One writer compares that with the praise we bring when our hearts feel heavy.
Satisfied — in the desert? Yes, that is the very place, because God Himself is his portion. "My mouth will praise you with joyful lips." Now we often praise when we are not very joyful, and there is a certain pressure on the heart. It is right to praise at all times. But here the heart is so full of the blessing that the praise is pressed out of him.
Which comes first — the satisfaction or the song? One writer settles the order, and follows it into the night.
A worshipping, praiseful soul is always a satisfied soul; for it is only when it is satisfied that it overflows in praise. So the Psalmist repeats that he will keep on praising, even by night. Songs in the night, when everything else was still, should mark him, as well as praise by day.
- Place — David sings from a wilderness, shut out from everything he valued. The believer stands on the same ground.
- Emptiness — write "no water" over this world, and the soul goes free. Say "I have nothing here," and God says He will be everything.
- Fullness — "marrow and fatness" means full, abundant satisfaction. God wants His people so satisfied that the world notices.
- Source — the satisfaction is not in the circumstances but in Him. The desert is the very place, because God Himself is the portion.
- Overflow — praise is the proof, not the cause. A satisfied soul overflows, by night as well as by day.
When I remember thee upon my bed, I meditate on thee in the night-watches
A man in a dry, waterless land wrote this song. He was far from anywhere he could worship, and here he speaks of the night. What fills the mind when the noise of the day stops and nothing is left to distract it?
Nothing in his circumstances has changed. He is still in the wilderness when he speaks of being satisfied and of praising.
The psalm opens with the longing of the heart for God. It is the longing of a God-fearing Jew, driven out of the land and far from the sanctuary… He rejoices in God. So he finds his soul satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and his lips filled with praise. And this is while he is still in a dry and thirsty land, where there is no water. What is more, in the silent watches of the night, when all natural excitement is quiet and the soul is alone, he will meditate on God.
The phrase points to particular hours — the ones nobody else claims.
"My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise you with joyful lips" (Psalm 63). And when and where? "When I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night." That means the lonely hours of the night or daybreak. Everything around is silent, and the duties and cares of daily life have not yet begun to claim our attention.
The verse names two things, not one, and the order matters. Recalling something is only the first half of it.
Meditation and memory. Meditating on a thing has more sweetness in it than simply remembering it. The memory is the chest or cupboard to lock up a truth; meditation is the palate to feed on it. When David began to meditate on God, it was sweet to him as marrow (Ps. 63:5-6). There is as much difference between a truth remembered and a truth meditated on as between a medicine in a glass and a medicine drunk down.
Notice what he remembers. He does not lie there reviewing his past mercies or rehearsing his losses; the object is a Person. One writer draws out the contrast with another psalm where night-time recollection only deepens the ache.
His outward life was bitter. Yet he could bless God while he lived, because God's loving-kindness was better than life. More than that, his soul would be satisfied as with marrow and fatness. His mouth would praise Him with joyful lips, when he remembered Him on his bed. In all his loneliness he had this indescribable joy of feeding on and delighting in God. It was not, "When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me," but "My soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness … when I remember you," having no one else. So he was taught to be satisfied with God, to lean on Him, and to find his all in Him.
The same bed can be the place where trouble is felt and the place where God is remembered. What the night becomes depends on what the mind turns toward.
The bed of affliction becomes the bed of His remembrance — the place of sweet meditation. The sense of His protective covering sustains the joy of the soul.
Darkness has a use here. It hides everything else from view.
For himself he can testify to perfect satisfaction of soul. That satisfaction stands up to reflection in those quiet hours when the shadows fall on everything else. Then a person is away from all the influences that would hinder realizing the truth.
Meditation here is deliberate mental work, and it has ordinary uses beyond the night.
We exercise our minds when we use them for reflection and meditation. The Psalms are full of this, speaking of meditation on God Himself, on His word and His works (Ps. 63:6; Ps. 119:148; Ps. 77:12). It is often valuable to go over things again in our minds: the Scriptures we have just read, the main content of a message we have heard, or some experience we have been through. That way we make sure we have absorbed its special message.
- Place — He speaks in a waterless desert, far from the sanctuary. His setting is not comfort but need.
- Hour — The "watches of the night" are the lonely hours of night and daybreak. Everything is silent, and the day's demands have not yet started.
- Act — Remembering stores the truth away; meditating feeds on it. The sweetness comes from the second.
- Object — He remembers God, not the things that had happened to him. Having no one else, he learns to find his all in Him.
- Result — The bed of affliction becomes the bed of remembrance. The darkness hides everything else, so the soul sees what is true.
For thou hast been my help, and in the shadow of thy wings will I sing for joy.
David wrote this psalm in the wilderness of Judah, far from the sanctuary and in danger. Here he gives the reason his heart can still sing. Everything hangs on one small word, "for": present joy rests on help already proved.
David is far from the place where he once saw God's power displayed. The memory still feeds him:
In this psalm David looks back to the displays of God's power and glory as he had seen them in the sanctuary... Those times are over, for now at least. But even here he thinks about the unchanging grace of God. His soul is satisfied as with the richest food, and his mouth praises Him with joyful lips. He can go further. As he thinks of past rescues at Keilah or in the wilderness of Ziph, he can say, "Because You have been my help, therefore I will rejoice in the shadow of Your wings."
Older translations make the link plain — "Because ... therefore." The ESV has "for."
The verse argues from experience. Past help settles where he shelters now:
The principle is — the more we learn of God the more confidently we trust in Him. Again and again the psalmist had found that the Lord was his helper. Now he will rejoice only in the shadow of God's wings — the wings that overspread the mercy-seat on the ark, His throne and dwelling place, His sanctuary... How blessed for the soul to trust and to rejoice alone in God's sure protection and care! Let every experience of His help then lead us to more restful confidence in Him.
The Psalms use this picture again and again, always with the same sense.
It means wing, which is often used figuratively for shelter or protection, such as a bird gives to its young (Ps. 17:8; Ps. 36:7; Ps. 57:1; Ps. 61:4; Ps. 63:7; Ps. 91:4).
The New Testament takes up the same image from the other side — a longing to gather, and a refusal to come:
"In the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge"; "I will trust in the shelter of Your wings"; "in the shadow of Your wings I will rejoice" — these are expressions we have met elsewhere in the Psalms... And the New Testament adds one sweet, moving word that holds this from the other side: "How often would I have gathered your children together, even as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you would not!"
A shadow does not remove the sun.
And further, the One who satisfies us with the knowledge of Himself and His love also casts over us the "shadow of His wings." Our present circumstances may be oppressive. They may be like the burning sun beating down on us. But if so, we may find shadow in His wings, as well as satisfaction in Himself.
Commentators differ on what the shadow gives. One holds it is about being kept safe on the road, not about enjoying God Himself:
There is help in God (see v. 7) for the difficulties of the way. It is not here the enjoyment of God Himself, but His protection... God, then, is the only certain thing. I have no certainty that there will be a tomorrow, but there is God.
Another finds it the place of closest nearness, where safety is only the start:
There is rejoicing in the "shadow of Your wings." We joy in God, known in this intimacy and nearness. Under the cover of His wings we have peace and protection, and with them abundant satisfaction. But we also receive power from there. By it we know the love of God, and our deliverance is sure while we are still in an evil world. And, most precious of all, it is in the shadow of His wings that God Himself becomes the whole portion of our hearts — enough on His own, and the only one.
The habit that produces this verse is formed in calm weather, not in the storm.
In the happy days, when God's favour makes our mountain stand firm and strong, we must seek the true source of our strength every day. Then, if difficulties come, we will not be like frightened little birds blown about by the storm, no one knows where. We will know how to run for refuge in an evil day to the One who gathers His chicks under His wings, in whose shadow we will rejoice!
- Help remembered. The verse begins with a fact, not a feeling. God has already been his help. In the desert, David feeds on the memory of past rescues.
- Wings spread. "Wing" stands for shelter, the way a bird covers its young. The New Testament uses the same picture of a longing to gather children who would not come.
- Shade given. A shadow does not stop the sun. The hard circumstances remain, and the covering comes in the middle of them.
- Joy released. Confidence grows with knowledge. The more we learn of God, the more we rest in Him — and rest turns into rejoicing.
- Habit built. Seek the source of strength daily while the days are calm. Then the day of trouble will find you already knowing where to run.
My soul followeth hard after thee thy right hand upholdeth me.
David wrote this psalm while he was hunted through the wilderness. He was cut off from the sanctuary, where he had once seen God's power and glory. In verse 8 his longing turns into movement — and the movement rests on someone else's strength.
The verse is the practical result of everything before it in the psalm.
Psalm 61 has been the cry of depression, and Psalm 62 the confidence and encouragement of trust in God. Psalm 63 is the longing of the soul, still cast out and far from the sanctuary... Verse 8 describes the practical result — his soul followed hard after God, and God's right hand upheld him.
King Saul was hunting David down. David turned that same energy back toward God.
Still surrounded by evil, he adds, "My soul follows hard after You." If Saul was following hard after him, he in his turn would flee all the faster to God. God would not slip away from his longing search. His right hand would uphold him while his difficulties were at their worst.
The ESV says David's soul "clings" to God. Older translations read "follows hard after you," and the writers quoted here keep that older wording. One translation renders the line: "My soul cleaves after You; Your right hand maintains me" (William Kelly). One of Jesus' closest disciples once showed the opposite.
In contrast to Peter, who at one time "followed at a distance" (Luke 22:54), David says, "My soul follows close behind You." Can we be content with anything less than this? When we are close to Him, then we experience the reality of His right hand upholding us.
Nothing in the verse suggests David whipping himself into devotion. What moves him is what he has come to know of God.
It is the attraction of the knowledge of God and His loving-kindness which makes him a devoted disciple, and draws him irresistibly onward... This is the secret of real consecration, and of holiness of walk. It is the truth of Philippians 3. There the apostle, absorbed in the sight of a glorified Christ, says, "I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me His own."
Earlier in the psalm David says his soul is already satisfied. So why is he still chasing?
We too are in a wilderness, and in Christ we have discovered the fountain-head of satisfaction. So both for David and for ourselves, the source of satisfaction lies outside the scene and circumstances that surround us. Our satisfaction depends on keeping in close touch with the source of it, and to keep that touch we must pursue Him.
The difficulty lies with us, not with God:
It is not that He avoids us. The world is a wilderness to us, yet it is full of distracting objects that appeal strongly to the flesh within us. So we are very apt to be like children who are distracted by every little butterfly that flutters across our way.
The second half of the verse removes any grounds for boasting about the first half.
But if he follows hard after God, he is upheld in this path by God's right hand. Notice how completely the power is from God. It is God's power that draws onward, and it is God's power that upholds. We need to learn this lesson, so that knowing our own utter weakness, we may stop expecting anything from ourselves and look for everything from God.
One writer gives that upholding a New Testament name:
In following Christ this way we shall find, as the Psalmist put it, "Your right hand upholds me." We should put it this way: "Your Holy Spirit upholds me." The Holy Spirit glorifies Christ. He attaches our souls firmly to Christ and keeps us as His followers.
- Wilderness — A hunted man far from the sanctuary wrote this verse. It is the practical result of everything that comes before it in the psalm.
- Drawn — The pursuit begins outside the pursuer. What David knows of God attracts him and pulls him onward, and that is the secret of real consecration.
- Close — To cling is to follow close behind. Peter followed at a distance, and that is the opposite.
- Needed — Keep close to the source of satisfaction. The wilderness is full of small distractions that pull us away, like children chasing butterflies.
- Upheld — The power that draws is the power that holds. Learn your own weakness, and look for everything from God.