By the Still Waters'.

It is worthy of our thought—how much poorer the world would be if the little Twenty-third Psalm had never been written. Think what a ministry this psalm has had these three thousand years, as it has gone up and down the world, singing itself into men's hearts, and breathing its quiet peace into their spirits. How many sorrows has it comforted! How many tears has it dried! How many pilgrims has it lighted through life's dark valleys! Perhaps no other single portion of the Bible—not even the fourteenth chapter of John's Gospel—is read so often or has so wrought itself into religious experience.

It is the children's psalm—to many the first words of Holy Scripture learned at a mother's knee. Then, it is the aged person's psalm; ofttimes, with quivering voice, it is repeated by aged saints as the night comes on. Then, all the years between youth and old age, this psalm is read. It is the psalm of the sick-room; how many sufferers have been quieted and comforted by its words of assurance and peace! It is the psalm for the death-bed; scarcely ever does a Christian die, but these sweet words are said or sung. Thousands of times it has been repeated by dying Christians themselves, especially the words about the valley of the shadow of death, as they passed into the valley. It is the psalm for the funeral service, read countless times beside the coffin where a Christian sleeps in peace.

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 You;" 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 wearyhearts 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 learn this lesson: 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.

"The Lord is my shepherd." Rustic name for God, you would say—Shepherd. There is a story of a great artist who had been entertained in some old castle, where he received much kindness. As he was about to go away, he wished to leave behind him some token of his gratitude. He could find no canvas on which to put a picture; but taking a common bed-sheet, the only available thing, he painted on it an exquisite picture, which he left in his room. So on this rustic, commonplace word, shepherd, did David paint a matchless picture of God, putting into it all that he had learned of God during his lifetime, and leaving it as a memorial in the world. No more unpoetic name could have been chosen; and yet a thousand years later, Jesus Christ, when he would leave with his disciples a revelation of his love and care for his own, called himself by the same rustic name, Shepherd—the Good Shepherd; and we all remember what precious thoughts he fixed upon this name. "He calls his own sheep by name, and leads them out." "When he has put forth all his own, He goes before them, and the sheep follow him for they know his voice." "I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. I am the good shepherd; and I know my own, and my own know me. My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand."

In our country we have no shepherds, such as those who tend the flocks in the East. There the pasture fields are wide, unfenced, stretching for miles and miles. There will be patches of grass here and there, and then bald barren tracts glowing in the hot sun, broken by deep ravines, dark and desolate, where wild beasts have their lairs. In such a region sheep unshepherded, would soon be lost. But one never sees a flock in that country without its shepherd.

It was this picture that was in David's mind when he wrote this Twenty-third Psalm—a mingling of beauty and danger. But as in the Syrian wilderness the shepherd appeared everywhere with his flock, so in life's wilderness there is always One whose presence is an assurance of safety and of blessing.

The Syrian shepherd loves his flock, and lives with them. He leads them out by day to find the patches of green pasture. By night he watches them, guarding them against prowling wild beasts and against robbers. Ofttimes he is wounded in defending them. When one sheep wanders, he leaves the flock, and seeks the lost one until he finds it. When one faints by the way, he gathers it in his arms, and carries it in his bosom. As we study the ways of the Eastern shepherd, we begin to see the beauty of the picture which the rustic name gives to God, who is our Shepherd.

"The Lord is my shepherd." Little words are sometimes very important. Suppose you read it thus, "The Lord is a shepherd;" would it mean just the same to you? The name shepherd carries in itself all its wondrous revealing of love, tenderness, care, safety, providence, as a picture of God. But what comfort is all this to you, so long as you cannot say, "The Lord ismy shepherd"?

Some poor children, passing a beautiful home, with its wealth and luxury, may admire it, and say, "What a lovely home!" But how much more it means to the children who dwell inside, who say, as they enjoy the good things in the house, "This is our home!" It makes a great difference to me whether a good man is a worthy friend, or is my friend; whether God is aFather, or is my Father; whether Jesus is a wonderful Savior, or is my wonderful Savior; whether the Lord is a Shepherd, or is my Shepherd. The little pronoun "my" is the golden link which binds all this blessed revealing to me, and makes it all mine own! The old preachers talked much about appropriating faith—that is, the faith which makes Christ and all the blessings of redemption our own. It is a joyous moment when we can say, "Christ is mine, and I am his." "The Lord is my shepherd."

It was not the exclusive privilege of David to say, "The Lord is my shepherd." It is our privilege too. True religion is an individual matter. Each one comes to Christ for himself, and it is a personal relation which is established between Christ and each believing soul. Every believer has all of Christ for his own, just as truly as if he were the only believer. Each one can say, "The Lord is my shepherd. He makes me to lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul." If we can say this little word 'my' with our heart, as we go over this psalm, claiming all of God for our own—then have we learned the great lesson which binds us to God and God to us. This is the faith which saves. It is not only takingChrist and all the blessings of his redemption for our own; it is also the surrender of our life, with all its powers and affections, to him. It means infinite blessing from God; but it means also unquestioning obedience, implicit following—the losing of our life in Christ.

Wonderful is the first assurance of this psalm: "I shall not be in want." We need not try to define or limit this word. We need not say that it includes only spiritual wants. Do you think our Shepherd would provide for the needs of our soul, and then pay no heed to our common, daily physical needs? The assurance means that all our needs will be supplied, the needs of our body and the needs of our soul. Paul puts the same assurance into very strong words in one of his epistles: "My God shall fulfill every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus." The same promise is written over and over again in the Bible. We have it in one glorious sentence of the Master's, "Seek first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." We need have only one care, that we put the first thing first—faithfulness to God. Then all else we need for both worlds will be supplied.

Yet we must make sure that we do not fail in our part. God will never fail us; but we forget, sometimes, in our rejoicing over such an assurance, that we must fulfill our part if we would claim the divine promise. It will not always be easy. Tomorrow it may mean a distasteful task, a disagreeable duty, a costly sacrifice for one who does not seem worthy. Life is full of sore testings of our willingness to follow the Good Shepherd. We have not the slightest right to claim this assurance, unless we have taken Christ as the guide of our life.

We must notice here, too, the grounds of David's confidence. He was very rich in his old age, when he wrote this psalm but he does not say, "I have much goods laid up, vast sums of gold, and therefore I shall not be in want." He was a great king and a mighty conqueror. Nation after nation had submitted to him, and now the whole Eastern country was at his feet, with its power and wealth. But he does not say, "I am king of vast realms; many peoples own my sway; the resources of great countries are at my disposal, and therefore I shall not be in want." His confidence was in something securer than money or power. "The Lord is my shepherd—and therefore I shall not be in want." To have God is better than to have all the world without God. When we can say, "God is mine," we have all the wealth of the universe for ours; for "the earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof," and what is God's is ours. "All things are yours, and you are Christ's." Blessed are all who can say, "The Lord is my shepherd." They can sing then with confidence, "Therefore I shall not be in want."

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