‘Into thine hand I commit my spirit; thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.’—Ps. xxxi. 5.

It is a very happy thing for the Church of God that David’s life was chequered by trials, and his character by no means free from fault. If he had never been in difficulty, we should never have been taught how difficulty drove him to his God; and if he had been a man without sin, we should not have had from him any lessons on repentance as we now have in his penitential psalms. To his difficulties we are indebted for the 31st psalm, and to his sins for the 51st. For this 31st psalm, ‘Trust in difficulty’ would be a suitable heading. It opens with the words, ‘In thee, O Lord, do I put my trust;’ and after referring to many sources of anxiety, it concludes with that noble appeal to all believers, ‘Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.’But I am not about to attempt any examination of the whole psalm, but simply to draw your attention to this one sacred verse, and to the spirit of confiding trust expressed in it. In the study of it we will examine, first, the trust, then the redemption which was the foundation of it. May God teach us so to realise the plenteous fulness of that redemption that we may be always able in confiding faith to exercise the trust!

I. The trust

This is expressed in the words, ‘Into thy hand I commit my spirit.’ There are few words in the whole word of God, presented to us with more sacred authority than these, for they were quoted by our Lord Himself even on the cross, and were almost the last words uttered by Him before His death. We must therefore approach them with a hallowed sense of profound reverence, and remember that the place whereon we stand is holy ground.

That use of them by our Blessed Saviour shows that they express the confiding trust of a dying believer, that the trust is a death-bed trust, and one especially prepared for that solemn moment when we come to the threshold of eternity, and, leaving all below, are just on the point of entering alone into the unseen world. Let no one think lightly of such a moment, or suppose that because there may be perfect peace there is no deep solemnity in the approaching change. There is an inexpressible solemnity about it, and it is only the foolhardy man that will ever brave it unprepared. But the words of this text are exactly suited to the well-prepared believer. He has reached the point when friends can do no more for him. The faithful wife can accompany him no further; the loving child can no longer minister to his comfort; every human help utterly fails; and the dying man is left alone with God. But his Blessed Father is at his right hand, and can reach his soul even when men think he is unconscious; so that, even at that moment when to the eye of man there is nothing but weakness, confusion, and failure, the trusting heart, in the inner secrets of the soul, can lean on the Beloved, and say, ‘Into thine hand I commit my spirit: thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.’ This is what our Lord did just as he was dying; this is what Stephen did when he said, ‘Lord Jesus, receive my spirit;’ and this is what I hope each of us may be able to do when the time of our departure is come, and the curtain which separates earth from heaven is being drawn aside to let us pass.

But I do not think that death is the only occasion on which we may use these words, or that we are to lay them by unused till we require them in our dying hour; for, as far as we can gather from the psalm, they are to have a present life-use likewise. The psalm is not a death-bed psalm, but one composed under difficulties. Nor did David write it under any expectation that he would be overpowered by these difficulties, for in verses 2, 3, and 4, he prays for deliverance; and in verse 8 he expressly declares, ‘Thou hast not shut me up into the hand of the enemy: thou hast set my feet in a large room.’ We must, therefore, regard these words as spoken by one who was in difficulty, and being in difficulty, availed himself of the privilege of committing all his difficulties into his Father’s hand. But you will observe that in this verse he does not speak so much of his difficulties as his spirit. He does not say, ‘Into thy hand I commend my difficulties,’ but ‘Into thy hand I commend my spirit.’ He may in those words have prayed for the preservation of his life, but I think it was rather the preservation of his own spirit, what St. Paul describes ‘the spirit of the mind,’ for which he required help. We all know how the spirit is harassed, and the rest of the soul disturbed, when we are placed in circumstances of perplexity. At such times we are often distracted in prayer, and are so much occupied by the things that trouble us that we are tempted to forget our resting-place. Hence the importance of especial prayer, not merely that difficulties may be overcome, but that our own spirit may be kept unruffled and undisturbed in perfect peace reposing on the Lord. This is just what David did in the psalm. He earnestly prayed that he might be delivered. ‘Deliver me in thy righteousness.’ ‘Deliver me speedily.’ He earnestly sought God’s guiding hand, in order that in his own conduct he might do God’s will: ‘For thy name’s sake lead me and guide me.’ And meanwhile he trusted his own spirit, his mind, his thoughts, his temper, his whole man into his Father’s keeping, and said, ‘Into thy hand I commit my spirit.’II. But now let us turn to that redemption which was the foundation of his trust. He did not trust without a reason, but said, ‘Into thy hand I commit my spirit; thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth;’ and we have to consider what he meant by that expression, ‘Thou hast redeemed me.’ In answer to this question, I have no hesitation in expressing my firm conviction that the redemption to which he referred was precisely the same as that on which we ourselves rest, the redemption from the guilt of sin wrought out by the Lord Jesus on the cross. There has never been any other redemption which could be the foundation of trust either in life or in death; and when we find the blessing of the Gospel connected in the Old Testament with redemption, we have no choice but to believe that the redemption with which they are connected is that great redemption by the Lord Jesus on which all our own hopes exclusively depend. Take, for example, such words as those of David, in Ps. cxxx. The great subject of that psalm is forgiveness: ‘There is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared’ (ver. 4); and the reason why Israel is to hope for it is that ‘with the Lord there is mercy, and with him is plenteous redemption.’ What but the redemption through the precious blood of the Lord Jesus can be described as thus plenteous for all who need forgiveness? The same may be said of those words of God Himself in Isa. xliv. 22: ‘I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins: return unto me, for I have redeemed thee.’ He cannot refer in those words to any deliverance that had already taken place, for he is only inviting the sinner to return; but he clearly refers to the blotting out of the curse through atoning blood, and to the way of life laid open to the returning sinner. So I cannot doubt for a moment that redemption in this verse means exactly the same as in both those passages. In Isaiah God said, ‘I have redeemed thee;’ and in this verse David said, ‘Thou hast redeemed me.’ The one gives, the other accepts; but they both speak of the same thing, the redemption on the cross, the only satisfaction for sin. Thus our blessed Lord, when He quoted the words, omitted this latter clause. He said, ‘Into thine hands I commit my spirit;’ but he did not say, ‘For thou hast redeemed me.’ The reason of this is obvious, for God had not redeemed Him, and He Himself was at that very time engaged in completing the redemption by His death. He could not use the words, for they referred to that great act of mercy in which at that very time He was engaged.

But it may be said, If the redemption here spoken of was not to take place for more than a thousand years after the psalm was written, how was it that David spoke of it as a completed thing? Why did he not rather say, ‘Thou art about to redeem me?’ In answer to that question, two reasons may be given, either of which would be quite sufficient to explain his words.

(1.) The redemption was already complete in the eternal purpose of God. Remember those words by St. Peter (1 Pet i. 19, 20): ‘Ye were redeemed with the precious blood of Christ . . . who verily was fore-ordained before the foundation of the world, but was manifest in these last times for you;’ and remember how he is described (Rev. xiii. 8) as ‘the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.’ Although, therefore, the Son of God has not yet become incarnate, God speaking of His divine purpose could say, ‘I have redeemed thee;’ and His believing servant, referring to that same purpose, could reply, though a thousand years must pass before he witnessed it, ‘Thou hast redeemed me.’

(2.) But it was not purposed only, for it was promised. It was promised to our first parents the very day of their miserable fall, and it was kept continually before the eye of God’s people by a series of types and prophecies. Thus David’s language is an illustration of the words, ‘Faith is the substance of things hoped for.’ What God had promised was as sure to him as if he held it in his hand; it was as much his own as if he had seen it. He was as sure of the power of the cross of Christ, as if he had been standing by, and had heard the centurion say, ‘Verily this was the Son of God.’ And is it not apparent from the verse itself that this is the real meaning of his words? for what is the peculiar force of those concluding words ‘O Lord God of truth?’ Do they not teach us that he was assured of that redemption, not because it had seen it accomplished, but because it was made sure by the truth of God? The truth of God was pledged to the redeeming work and therefore that work was as sure to him as if it were already finished. He did not, therefore, wait to puzzle his mind about times and seasons; he knew that God was true to His promise, and therefore being assured of His declared purpose, he said, ‘Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.’

But if this be the case, we are surely brought to the conclusion that, whatever be our position, redeeming grace must be the one foundation of believing trust. Patriarchal faith looking forward, and modern Christian faith looking backward, both meet in one point, that point being the cross of Christ. And as for ourselves it matters not what are our peculiar circumstances. We may be actively engaged in the work of life, involved in its perplexities, and compelled to take a part in its struggles; or we may be at the end of life, expecting in a day or two to depart hence, and be no more: but in either case we must rest simply on the atoning blood, and resting on it, whether it be for life or for death, we may say in calm, quiet, peaceful, trusting faith, ‘Into thy hand I commit my spirit: thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.’But while we trust the perfect work we must not forget the perfect truth, for we are quite as dependent on that truth as David was. To his mind that had turned a future act into a present reality, and on that same truth we rely in order that the same act, long since completed, may be to us a present salvation, and the assurance of it a present power. We want each one to look back to the cross as David looked forward to it, and to say in happy, peaceful, personal trust as he did, ‘Into thine hand I commit my spirit, for thou hast redeemed me.’ But in order to do this we must not forget the truth. We cannot rest on the work without the word any better than on the word without the work. It is when both are combined, and both applied by the Holy Ghost to the soul, that we can say, ‘Thy counsels of old are faithfulness and truth,’ and resting on those eternal counsels, whether living or dying, may trust Him without a fear.

May we not then, every one of us, learn a lesson of simple trust from these few words in David’s psalm? It matters not what is our position. When we are dying men and drawing near to the gateway of eternity we may calmly look up, and trust our soul for all eternity into His hand. If we be exposed to harassing anxiety, and are anxious about our own temper and judgment in difficult circumstances, we may spread our own spirit in simple faith before the throne. Or if we are undertaking work, and endeavouring to be employed for God, feeling the need of wisdom, zeal, love, and power, we may commit it all into His loving care. Yes, whatever it is that weighs on our mind, death, anxiety, disappointment, or duty, we may trust it all, and, whatever it is, may say as St. Paul did, ‘I am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.’ Yes; and He is perfectly sure to keep it safe.

But there is one little word in the text that I have not noticed, and yet it is an essential one to the trust. Great principles are often found in little words, and so it is here, for all hangs on that little monosyllable ‘me.’ If you can only say, ‘Thou hast redeemed mankind,’ your soul will never rest in abiding trust. Nor will it if you can only say, ‘Thou hast redeemed thy Church,’ for the safety of the Church does not secure the peace of the individual. It is only when you can reverently look up to the atoning blood, and say, ‘Thou hast redeemed me,’ that you will be able in hallowed peace to commit everything into His loving hand. When you can say with deep thanksgiving, ‘In whom I have redemption through his blood,’ you may then without the shadow of a doubt commit your body, your soul, your spirit, your will, your thoughts, your work, and all you care for, into His loving hand.