But the storm-clouds are still wreathing his sky;--nay, it seems as if the tempest were deepening. Fresh assaults of temptation are coming in upon him;--there seems no light in the cloud, no ray in the darkness. "_Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy water-spouts; all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me._" (Ver. 7.) But again, his own extremity is God's opportunity; Faith is seen cresting the resurgent waves. Lifting his voice above the storm, he thus expresses his assurance in God's faithfulness, "_Yet the Lord will command his loving-kindness in the day-time, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life_." (Ver. 8.) Nay, he resolves in all time to come to provide against the return of seasons of guilty distrust and misgiving. He dictates and transcribes the very words of a prayer to be employed as an antidote in any such recurring moments of despondency. He resolves to rise above frames and feelings, and to plant his feet on the Rock of Ages, which these fluctuating billows can never shake;--"_I will say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me? why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?_" (Ver. 9.) The Old nature makes one last and final effort, ere abandoning the conflict. Unbelief rallies its strength. A former assault is renewed. "_As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me; while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God?_" (Ver. 10.) But he reverts to his prayer! He adopts his own liturgy for a time of sorrow. "_Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise Him._" (Ver. 11.) He seems to be "answered while yet speaking;" for he closes with the joyful declaration, "_Who is the health of my countenance, and my God_." (Ver. 11.) He had made a similar assertion in a former verse (Ver. 5), "_I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance_;" but now he can add the language of triumphant assurance, "My God!" The conflict is ended;--sense quits the field, and faith conquers. He began the Psalm in trouble, he ends it with joy. Its notes throughout are on the minor key, but these merge at last into a strain of triumph. He began comparing himself to the stricken deer--the helpless, breathless, panting fugitive;--he ends it with angel's words,--with the motto and watchword in which a seraph might well glory--heaven knows no happier--"MY GOD!" "He looked," says Matthew Henry, "upon the living God as his chief good, and had set his heart upon Him accordingly, and was resolved to live and die by Him; and casting anchor thus at first, he rides out the storm." * * * * *