“He chose David also his servant.” It was an election of a sovereignly gracious kind, and it operated practically by making the chosen man a willing servant of the Lord. He was not chosen because he was a servant, but in order that he might be so. David always esteemed it to be a high honour that he was both elect of God, and a servant of God. “And took him from the sheepfolds.” A shepherd of sheep he had been, and this was a fit school for a shepherd of men. Lowliness of occupation will debar no man from such honours as the Lord’s election confers, the Lord seeth not as man seeth. He delights to bless those who are of low estate.

“And we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand.” As he belongs to us, so do we belong to him. “My Beloved is mine, and I am his.” And we are his as the people whom he daily feeds and protects. Our pastures are not ours, but his; we draw all our supplies from his stores. We are his, even as sheep belong to the shepherd, and his hand is our rule, our guidance, our government, our succour, our source of supply.

“My heart is smitten,” like a plant parched by the fierce heat of a tropical sun, “and withered like grass,” which dries up when once the scythe has laid it low. The Psalmist’s heart was as a wilted, withered flower, a burned up mass of what once was verdure. His energy, beauty, freshness, and joy, were utterly gone, through the wasting influence of his anguish. “So that I forget to eat my bread,” or “because I forget to eat my bread.” Grief often destroys the appetite, and the neglect of food tends further to injure the constitution and create a yet deeper sinking of spirit. As the smitten flower no longer drinks in the dew, or draws up nutriment from the soil, so a heart parched with intense grief often refuses consolation for itself and nourishment for the bodily frame, and descends at a doubly rapid rate into weakness, despondency, and dismay.

“And the vineyard which thy right hand hath planted.” Shall all thy care be lost? Thou hast done so much, wilt thou lose thy labour? With thy power and wisdom thou didst great things for thy people, wilt thou now utterly give them up, and suffer thine enemies to exult in the evil which they delight in?

“He should have fed them also with the finest of the wheat.” Famine would have been an unknown word, they would have been fed on the best of the best food, and have had abundance of it as their every day diet. “And with honey out of the rock should I have satisfied thee.” Luxuries as well as necessaries would be forthcoming, the very rocks of the land would yield abundant and sweet supplies; the bees would store the clefts of the rocks with luscious honey, and so turn the most sterile part of the land to good account. The Lord can do great things for an obedient people. When his people walk in the light of his countenance, and maintain unsullied holiness, the joy and consolation which he yields them are beyond conception.

“So we thy people and sheep of thy pasture will give thee thanks for ever; we will shew forth thy praise to all generations.” The gratitude of the church is lasting as well as deep. On her tablets are memorials of great deliverances, and, as long as she shall exist, her sons will rehearse them with delight. We have a history which will survive all other records, and it is bright in every line with the glory of the Lord. From the direst calamities God’s glory springs, and the dark days of his people become the prelude to unusual displays of the Lord’s love and power.