[1] The title of the Psalm (משכיל MASCHIL--_instruction_,) is the same as that of other twelve. Some have referred the word merely to the music--indicating the tune to which the Psalms were set,--demanding of the sons of Korah, and "the chief musician," (the conductors of temple-song,) some melody specially adapted to the sentiments they contain. Others, with greater probability, take it as indicative of their _design_;--that while expressive of personal feeling and experience, they were intended for the "instruction" and comfort of the Church in all ages. Hence the term given to them of _didactic_. Though his name is not mentioned, there is little doubt that David, and not the sons of Korah, as some have supposed, was the author of this Psalm. The reader is referred to _Hengstenberg_ for a statement of the internal grounds, in the Psalm itself, to favour this conclusion. "To me," says Calvin, "it appears more probable that the sons of Korah are here mentioned because this Psalm was committed as a precious treasure to be preserved by them;--as we know that out of the number of the singers some were chosen and appointed to be keepers of the Psalms. That there is no mention made of David's name, does not in itself involve any difficulty, since we see the same omission in other Psalms, of which there is, notwithstanding, the strongest grounds for concluding that he was author." According to an arbitrary division by the Jews of their Psalter into five parts, supposed to have been made by Ezra after the return from Babylon, the Forty-second Psalm forms the commencement of the second book. Regarding its structure, we may remark, that it is divided into two portions or _strophes_, each of these closing with a refrain in verses 5 and 11. The following is an excellent poetical paraphrase of the Psalm, by Bishop Lowth:-- "As pants the wearied hart for cooling springs, That sinks exhausted in the summer's chase; So pants my longing soul, great King of kings! So thirsts to reach Thy sacred dwelling-place. "On briny tears my famish'd soul hath fed, While taunting foes deride my deep despair; 'Say, where is now thy Great Deliverer fled, Thy mighty God, deserted wanderer, where?' "Oft dwell my thoughts on those thrice happy days, When to Thy fane I led the willing throng; Our mirth was worship, all our pleasure praise, And festal joys still closed with sacred song. "Why throb, my heart? why sink, my saddening soul, Why droop to earth, with various foes oppress'd? My years shall yet in blissful circles roll, And peace be yet an inmate of this breast. "By Jordan's banks with devious steps I stray, O'er Hermon's rugged rocks and deserts dear: E'en there Thy hand shall guide my lonely way, There Thy remembrance shall my spirit cheer.