This is a Psalm of consolation against those hardened heretics, and enthusiastic spirits, who pertinaciously defend their own errors, and stop their ears; and who are so blinded and taken captive, that they can hear no one; but pursue, with headlong precipitation, their own designs, and rush on to the accomplishment of them, like a horse at full speed. And these, as if they would devour the godly, cease not to threaten them in the most terrifying manner.—David, however, here makes use of five beautiful similitudes: under which, he represents their vain attempts, and shows, that those very plots which they lay for others, fall upon their own heads. 1. The sudden inundation with which they make their attack, rushes with such violence and roaring, that it seems as if it would tear up and carry away every thing before it: and yet it flows by, and suddenly disappears! 2. Their arrow, fixed on the bow, threatens certain destruction: but, in a moment, the bow and arrows are broken together, and the deadly weapon accomplishes nothing! 3. The snail puts forth his horns from his shell, as if he were just going to do some deadly and mighty injury: but those horns prove to be soft and ineffectual; they do nothing: nor have the power of doing any hurt whatever. 4. An imperfect conception, disengaged by abortion, makes the womb of the mother to extend, as if there were a perfect conception, and as if something great would at length come forth: but before it is brought forth, it perishes, and never sees the sun. 5. You may see a branch of buck-thorn, (which is the most prickly kind of thorn,) filled with young sharp points and prickles, and seeming as if it would one day tear many in pieces at once, and maim persons on every side of it; but, before the prickles are fully ripe and strong, the whole bush is, perhaps, cut down by the woodman, and he burns it in the fire, and reduces it to ashes! So, just according to these similitudes, those enemies of God and truth, plan, plot, and breathe out dreadful things; but like a mighty flame, where there is no more fuel left to feed it, their fury ends in nothing! PSALM LIX. _David prayeth to be delivered from his enemies.—He complaineth of their cruelty.—He trusteth in God.—He prayeth against them.—He praiseth God._ To the chief Musician, Al-taschith, Michtam of David; when Saul sent, and they watched the house to kill him. Deliver me from mine enemies, O my God: defend me from them that rise up against me. Deliver me from the workers of iniquity, and save me from bloody men. For, lo, they lie in wait for my soul; the mighty are gathered against me; not _for_ my transgression, nor _for_ my sin, O LORD. They run and prepare themselves without _my_ fault: awake to help me, and behold. Thou, therefore, O LORD God of hosts, the God of Israel, awake to visit all the heathen: be not merciful to any wicked transgressors. Selah.