New Park Street Pulpit · Sermon No. 129
Delivered on Sabbath Morning, April 26, 1857.
“Let the whole earth be filled with his glory; Amen, and Amen.”—Psalm 72:10.
THERE was a time when this prayer would have been unnecessary; a period, in fact, when it could not have been offered, seeing the thing to be asked for was already in being. A time there was when the word rebellion had not been uttered against the great magistracy of heaven; a day there was, when the slime of sin had never been left by the trail of the serpent, for no serpent then existed, and no evil spirit. There was a hour, never to be forgotten, when the seraph might have flapped his wing for aye, and never have found aught of discord, or aught of rebellion or of anarchy throughout God’s universe, when the mighty angels assembled in the halls of the Most High, and without exception did reverence to their liege Lord, and paid him homage due; when the vast creation revolved around its center, the great metropolis, the throne of God, and paid its daily and hourly homage unto him, when the harmonies of creation always came to one spot and found their focus near the throne of God. There was a time when every star was bright; when all space was filled with loveliness, when holiness, purity, and happiness, were like a robe which mantled the entire creation. This world itself was once fair and lovely—so fair and lovely that we who live in these erring times can scarcely guess its beauty. It was the house of song, and the dwelling-place of praise. If it had no pre-eminence among its sister spheres, certainly it was inferior to none of them, surrounded with beauty, girt with gladness, and having in it holy and heavenly inhabitants. It was a house to which the angels themselves loved to resort, where the holy spirits, the morning stars, delighted to sing together over this beautiful and fair earth of ours. But now how changed! how different! Now it is our duty devoutly to bend our knees and pray that the whole earth may yet be filled with his glory.
In one sense this prayer is still unnecessary, for in a certain sense the whole earth is filled with God’s glory. “All thy works praise thee, O God,” is as true now as it was in paradise. The stars still sing their Maker’s praise; no sin hath stopped their voice, no discord hath made a jarring note among the harmonies of the spheres. The earth itself still praiseth its Maker, the exhalations, as they arise with morn, are still a pure offfering, acceptable to their Maker. The lowing of the cattle, the singing of the birds, the leaping of the fishes, and the delights of animal creation, are still acceptable as votive offerings to the Moat High. The mountains still bring righteousness; on their hoary summits God’s holy feet might tread, for they are yet pure and spotless. Still do the green valleys, laughing with their verdure send up their shouts to the Most High. The praise of God is sung by every wind it is howled forth in dread majesty by the voice of the tempest, the winds resound it, and the waves, with their thousand hands, clap, keeping chorus in the great march of God. The whole earth is still a great orchestra for God’s praise, and his creatures still take up various parts in the eternal song, which, ever swelling and ever increasing, shall by-and-by mount to its climax in the consummation of all things. In that sense, therefore, the prayer is still inappropriate. God, who filleth all in all, and filleth earth and heaven, needeth not to have more glory, as to the essence of his glory; for still he is glorified in the whole earth.
But David intended this prayer in another sense. “Let the whole earth be filled with his glory. Amen, and Amen;” not as Creator, but as a moral Governor, and a Ruler. It is as Governor that we have revolted from God and done dishonor to him; it is as our Master, our Ruler, our Judge, that we have done despite to his glory, and have trampled on his crown. It is, therefore, in this respect that David wished that the whole earth might be filled with God’s glory. He desired that every idol temple might be cast down—that the name of Jehovah might be sung by every lip, that he in his person might be loved by every heart, and be for ever adored as “God over all blessed for ever.” A foolish wish, say you, for it never can be accomplished. Surely the day will never come when hoary systems of superstition shall die. What! shall colossal systems of infidelity and of idolatry totter to their fall? They have resisted the battering-ram for many a year; and yet shall they pass away, and shall God’s kingdom come, and his will be done on earth, even as it is in heaven? Nay, it is no day dream of a boy, it is no wish of the enthusiast. Mark who uttered that prayer, and where he was when he uttered it. It was the prayer of a dying king; it was the prayer of a holy man of God, whose eyes were just then lighted up with brightness in view of the celestial city, as he stood on the mighty Pisgah, “and viewed the landscape o’er ”—the prayer of the dying psalmist, when on the margin of his life he surveyed the ocean—the prayer of a mighty king, when he saw the scroll of prophecy unfolded before him for the last time and was about to be ushered into the presence of his Maker. He uttered this as his last best wish and desire; and when he had uttered it he sank back in his bed, and said, “The prayers of David the son of Jesse are ended.” It was his last prayer: “Let the whole earth be filled with his glory; Amen, and Amen.”