Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 2372
“Look You upon me and be merciful to me, as You used to do to those who love Your name.” Psalm 119:132.
[“We believe that David wrote this Psalm. It is Davidic in tone and expression and it tallies with David’s experience in many interesting points. In our youth, our teachers called it, ‘David’s pocketbook,’ and we incline to the opinion often expressed that here we have the royal diary written at various times throughout a long life.”—C. H. SPURGEON’S Note in The Treasury of David as to the author of Psalm 119.]
PERHAPS YOU noticed, while I was reading, that during the writing of several of the verses, David occupied himself with the praises of God’s Word. He kept to that point, extolling with all his might those Scriptures in which God had spoken to his heart, but he could not go on long without prayer. If these meditations were written in his pocket-book, day by day, it is noteworthy that although he fervently praises the Word of God, yet he also frequently breaks out into prayer. However the child of God may occupy his mind—and he very properly employs it in many holy occupations—yet he often turns to prayer, for he cannot live without it. Well does Montgomery say—
“Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath, The Christian’s native air.”
We must pray. Brothers and Sisters, we are bound to praise God for all His goodness. We cannot help bearing testimony to His faithfulness and His Truth. We are delighted to engage in all acts of holy service, but, in addition to all that, we must pray. Prayer is a sine qua non with us—we continually come back to that sacred exercise, for, without it, we are nothing and can do nothing. Therefore, again I say, we must pray.
Notice, also, how brief David’s prayer is, and yet how full of matter! I believe that very often, the longer the prayer is, the less there is in it, and that the best prayers that were ever prayed have usually been the shortest. An arrow may easily be too long and prayers should be like arrows shot from the bow of faith. If they are short, it does not matter, as long as they are sharp and went on their way with a good pull of the bowstring. The first petition, here, is very short, but very full—“Look You upon me.” The words are few, but the sense is deep, as I shall have to show you. Oh, that we all spoke with greater freshness and naturalness in prayer—that we had no thought about keeping on with fine language, but great anxiety as to holding on with a firm grip of wrestling, pleading prayer!
The whole of our text is but short, yet it contains much more meaning than I can bring out to you in this one discourse. I want to call your attention to four things in it. First, David’s brief petition—“Look You upon me.” Secondly, his humble confession (it is not given in so many words, but it lies hidden away like the perfumed violet beneath the green leaves)—“Be merciful unto me,” which is a virtual confession of sin. Thirdly, his tacit profession, for he says, “as You used to do unto those that love Your name,” which is tacitly saying that he loves God’s name, or else he could not pray the Lord to deal with him as He used to do with such people. And, fourthly—and here I shall enlarge somewhat—his gracious aspiration. The highest, loftiest wish that David had was that God would deal with him as He was accustomed to do unto those that love His name. He did not want to fare either better or worse than the rest of the Lord’s family, so he boldly prayed, “Look You upon me, and be merciful unto me, as You used to do unto those that love Your name.”
I. To begin with, here is, in our text, DAVID’S BRIEF PETITION—“Look You upon me.”
I think that these words came to David’s mouth from his heart and that he prayed, “Look You upon me,” because his own eyes had failed him. Turn to the 123rd verse. If you look at it, you will see that one thing in a saint may suggest another. In that verse he wrote, “My eyes fail,” and in our text he says, “Look You upon me. Lord, when I feel as if I could not look at You, do You look at me! My eyes fail me. I have washed them out with rivers of water, I have flooded them with fountains of grief. Unbelief has come in. I cannot see as I would—the dust of the world and the smoke of care have dimmed my eyes—I seem to grow blind, my Lord, and though I would always look at You and never take my eyes off You, yet my eyes fail me!” In such a case as that, it is so sweet to pray to God, “Look You upon me.”
Brothers and Sisters, there is great virtue in our looking to Christ—it is the way of salvation! What virtue, then, must there be in Christ’s love-gaze upon us! A faith-look at the blood of Jesus gives us peace, but, as I always remind you, it is God’s sight of the blood that brings us salvation. Did He not say to Moses and Aaron, “When I see the blood, I will pass over you”?—
“When your eyes of faith are dim Still trust in Jesus, sink or swim.” When you cannot see your God, still say with poor Hagar, “You God see me.” Jehovah is the all-seeing One—remember that and be comforted. If your eyes are put out, His eyes can never be blinded—still does He look upon you with compassion and see you with His eyes of Grace. Again I say, Lord, if ever I should forget to look to You, or if ever I should be in such a state of despondency that I cannot look up to You, look You upon me!