For his poetry was poetry
concerning God. His song was a song to God. He does not sing of his own
sorrows to himself, as too many poets have done ere now. He does not
sing to his men; though he no doubt wished them to hear him, and learn
from him, and gain faith and comfort and courage from his song. He sings
of his sorrows to God Himself; to the God who made heaven and earth; the
God who is above the heavens, and His glory above all the earth.

This is the secret, the virtue, the charm of the song; that it sings to
God. This is why it has passed into many lands, into many languages,
through hundreds and hundreds of years, and is as fresh, and mighty, and
full of meaning and of power, now, here, to us in England, as it was to
David, when he was a poor outlaw, wandering in the hills of the little
country of Judaea, more than 2000 years ago.

The poet says,

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever,

and this psalm is most beautiful, and a joy for ever to delicate and
noble intellects. But more, a thing of truth is a help for ever. And
this psalm is most true, and a help for ever to all sorrowing and weary
hearts. For the Spirit of truth it was, who put this psalm into David's
heart and brain; and taught him to know and say what was true for him,
and true for all men; what was true then, and will be true for ever.

And what in it is true for ever? The very figures, the metaphors of the
psalm are true for ever. "Under the shadow of Thy wings shall be my
refuge"--that is a noble figure; can we not feel its beauty? And more.
Do none of us know that it is true? David did not believe any more than
we do, that God had actual wings. But David knew--and it may be some of
us know too--that God does at times strangely and lovingly hide us; keep
us out of temptation; keep us out of harm's way; as it is written, "Thou
shall hide them privately in Thy presence from the provoking of all men.
Thou shall keep them in Thy tabernacle from the strife of tongues." Ah,
my dear friends, in such a time as this, when the strife of tongues is
only too loud, have you never had reason to thank God for being, by some
seemingly mere accident, kept out of the strife of tongues and out of
your chance of striving too, and of making a fool of yourself like too
many others? The image of the mother bird, hiding her brood under her
wings, seemed to David just to express that act of God's fatherly love,
in words which will be true for ever,