Psalm 119:96
unrighteousness in Him;" and therefore, "though a host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident." Whether, then, I am delivered from the wicked, and live, "I live unto the Lord;" or whether I fall into their snare, and "die—I die unto the Lord;" for I will consider
Your testimonies, assured that all Your purposes shall be accomplished concerning me, as You have said, "I will never leave you, nor forsake you." "You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You."
Psalm 119:96
96. I have seen an end of all perfection; but Your commandment is exceeding broad.
A deeper insight into the Lord's testimonies is the sure result of considering them. Weigh them in the balances against this world's excellency; the world and the word—each with all its fullness. Of the one perfection we see an end—of the other—none. This world is a matter of experience and observation. We have seen an end—not of some—but of all its perfection. It wants sufficiency. It stands us in no stead in the great emergencies of affliction—death—judgment— eternity. It wants solidity in its best substance. "In its wisdom is grief!" All its delicacies and indulgences—after having, like the King of Jerusalem, "not withheld the heart from any joy"—all end in the verdict of disappointment, "Behold! all was vanity and vexation of spirit!" Its continuance is but for a moment. The soul is born for eternity. Therefore it must have a portion to last as long as itself. But the world, with its lusts and fashions, passes away. All that it can offer is a bubble—a shadow. In its best riches, honors, and pleasures
—in the utmost that its perfection can yield—in its height and prime of enjoyment—what is it in itself—what is it able to do for us? "All is vanity." And yet such is the alienation of the heart from God, that it
is first tried to the very uttermost, before any desire to return homeward is felt or expressed. And even then, nothing but the Almighty power of God can bring the sinner back. He would rather perish in his misery, than "return to his rest."
Now contrast with the emptiness of the world the fullness of the commandment of God. Our whole duty to our God, our neighbor, and ourselves, is here laid open before us—commanding without abatement, and forbidding without allowance—making no excuse for ignorance—frailty or forgetfulness—reaching not only to every species of crime, but to everything tending to it. This is perfection, of which we never see an end. Every fresh view opens—not the extent— but the immensity of the field; and compels us at length to shut up our inquiries with the adoring acknowledgment—Your commandment is exceeding broad. Its various parts form one seamless piece; so that no particle can be separated without injury to the whole. As all the curtains of the tabernacle connected by taches and loops, made but one covering for the ark, and the loosening or disjunction of the smallest point disannulled the fitness of the whole; so it belongs to the perfection of the commandment, that "whoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all." The spirituality of its requirements equally illustrates its Divine perfection. An angry look is murder; an unchaste desire is adultery; the "stumbling-block of iniquity" "covetousness"—in the heart is idolatry; the thought as well as the act—the first conception of sin, as well as the after-commission—brings in the verdict—Guilty—Death.
Can we, then, endure the sight of its exceeding breadth? Yes—for the commandment of the gospel is equally broad, and covers all. We know who has stood in our place—who has satisfied Sinai's unalterable requirements, and borne its awful curse. Broad as it may be, the love which has fulfilled it is immeasurable. As a covenant, therefore, it has now lost its terrors. As a rule, we love it for its extent, and for its purity; for the comprehensiveness of its obligations, and for the narrowness of its liberty for indulgence; nor would we wish to be subject to a less severe scrutiny, or a more