Psalm 22

by R. Armstrong, Toronto | Category: Crossroads | Feb 1969

Aijeleth (or hind of the morning)

What deep emotions stirred the heart of David as he penned this graphic portrayal of Messiah's sufferings! What pathos filled this message of song as temple singers sang in their courses under the skilful direction of the chief musician! Often the still night air around Mount Zion was filled with this excellent song of the suffering and future glory of Christ.

Long centuries before Christ became Man the sweet incense of this Psalm filled heaven, where He dwelt in the bosom of the Father. As its sweetness was borne aloft, it spoke to God of Christ, and its fragrance was precious.

On earth men hunted the hind of the morning, and often those beautiful creatures lay panting in the dust as men closed in for the kill. The Lord, as a Man on earth, was the object of the cruel hunting and relentless pursuit of men in His day.

When the Lord Jesus, as a young Man laid up God's word in His heart, well He knew what this Psalm meant for Him. Just ahead lay the path of unspeakable suffering. Verse 14 seems to reach the apex of His sufferings ... "I am poured out like water." He completely poured Himself out to God... a total Sacrifice... nothing kept back.

Some have thought that this may have been the Psalm the Lord sung with the disciples in the upper room. "And when they had sung a hymn, they went out unto the Mount of Olives" (Mark 14.26). As we gather to remember the Lord Jesus on the first day of the week, one wonders that so often we remain unmoved, and no tears flow at the sight of Him who gave so much for us.

One has well written

Poured forth like water is My frame;

My bones asunder start;

As wax that feels the searching flame,

Within Me melts my heart.

My wither'd sinews shrink unstrung

Like potsherd dried and dead:

Cleaves to My jaws My burning tongue,

The dust of death My bed.

Someone said, "Whenever I am tempted to give up the struggle, it is always the sight of that lonely Man on the middle Cross that sends me back to my task."

R. Armstrong, Toronto | Feb 1969
Crossroads