| J.R. Miller D.D. | Page 2 |
I cannot think of anything in all the list of the world’s achievements that I would rather have done than write the Twenty-third Psalm. To compose any sweet hymn that lives, and sings itself into people’s hearts, giving cheer, comfort, or hope, making men and women stronger, truer, and braver, is a noble privilege. It is a great thing to have written “Rock of Ages, cleft for me,” “Jesus, Lover of my soul,” or “Nearer, my God, to thee;” but, of all hymns which have been born into this world, I think I would rather have written David’s Shepherd’s Psalm. I would rather be the author of this little song than be the builder of the pyramids. Earth’s noblest, divinest achievement is to start songs in the world’s wintry air, to sing into its weary hearts something of heaven’s music. Not many of us will be permitted to write a twenty-third psalm to bless men with its strains of sweet peace; but we may at least make our life a song, a sweet hymn of peace, whose music shall gladden, comfort, and cheer weary pilgrims as they pass along life’s rough ways.
It is interesting to think of the origin of this psalm. At first thought, we might say it was written in David’s youth, when he was a shepherd at Bethlehem. It is full of images and pictures of shepherd life, which might seem to fix its date in the author’s early years. But further thought will show that the psalm does not belong to this period. It could not have been written by a young man. It tells of struggles and toils, of pain and sorrow endured, of dark valleys passed through. It is a psalm of experience, – an old man’s experience, after being led through many a trying way and tasting many a bitter cup. It must have been written in David’s old age, but in it he enshrines the memories of his youth.
We get a practical suggestion: the experiences of the early years make the remembrances of life’s later years. The visions of youth become the faiths and the songs of ripened manhood. If you would have an old age made sweet by memory, fill your youth-time with deeds of virtue, bravery, and beauty, and with dreams of purity and peace. Old age is the harvest of all the years gone before.
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