Psalms 45

The poet can hardly contain himself. My heart is inditing a good matter - the old word inditing means bubbling or boiling over, the way a spring overflows; his heart is welling up with what it has to say. My tongue is the pen of a ready writer: the words come fluently, eagerly, like a skilled scribe whose hand can scarcely keep pace with the matter. This is not duty or hollow flattery. It is a man overcome by the worth of his subject - the king - and the whole psalm is the overflow.

Grace is poured into thy lips: therefore God hath blessed thee for ever. The King's beauty comes to a point in His speech. Grace is poured - not measured out in drops but lavished - into His lips, so that what comes from His mouth is gracious, healing, life-giving. Centuries later, people would sit in a synagogue in Nazareth and marvel at exactly this: all… wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth (Luke 4:22). The blessing that rests on such a King is not for a season but for ever.

Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O most mighty… And in thy majesty ride prosperously. The King is no mere ornament; He is a warrior. Yet notice what His might is wedded to. He rides out because of truth and meekness and righteousness - strength in the service of what is true and right, and (most surprising of all) of meekness. Power and gentleness are not at war in this King; they ride out together. His arrows are sharp in the heart of the king's enemies - the rule He brings is real and effective - but the cause it serves is righteousness, not raw conquest.

These two verses are the spine of the psalm. Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever: the sceptre of thy kingdom is a right sceptre. The King's rule is not merely long; it is endless, and it is right - a straight scepter, a rule with no crookedness in it. And verse 7 tells you why such a throne endures: Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness. This is a throne that lasts because the heart behind it is set on what is good. The reward is the oil of gladness poured out above thy fellows - an anointing of joy beyond all companions.

All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces. The King comes robed in fragrance for His wedding - the spices of celebration and of love, the same myrrh and aloes that perfume the lovers of the Song of Solomon. Yet a reader who knows the whole story can hardly hear these names only once: myrrh was carried to the infant King by the wise men (Matt. 2:11), and myrrh and aloes were the very spices brought to bury Him (John 19:39). The robes of the Bridegroom carry the scent of both His coming and His costliest love.

Upon thy right hand did stand the queen in gold of Ophir. At the King's right hand - the place of highest honour - stands the queen, arrayed in the finest gold the ancient world knew. The picture is one of a beloved exalted, not kept at a distance but set in the place of nearest dignity. It is the same picture the New Testament will draw of the people joined to Christ: not servants left outside the door, but a bride brought near, given honour beside the King.

Hearken, O daughter, and consider, and incline thine ear; forget also thine own people, and thy father's house. The call to the bride is tender, but it is real: a leaving. To belong wholly to the King she must loosen her grip on the old allegiances and the old identity. It is the very pattern set down at the first wedding - therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife (Gen. 2:24) - and it is what every deep covenant asks: that something be left behind so that something greater can be wholly received. This is not loss for its own sake; it is the door into a new home.

So shall the king greatly desire thy beauty: for he is thy Lord; and worship thou him. Two things stand side by side here that we rarely hold together: the King greatly desires the bride, and the bride is to worship Him. Reverence and desire are not at odds. He is her Lord, owed honour and worship; and He is also the one who longs for her, who finds her beautiful. Long after, the same note sounds in Hebrews, where God says of the Son, let all the angels of God worship him (Heb. 1:6). The One worthy of all worship is the very One who desires His people - and the beauty He desires in them is, as the next verse says, a glory within.

Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children, whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth. The bride who was told to forget… thy father's house (v. 10) is now promised a future that more than answers the leaving: in place of the fathers she left behind come children, and not ordinary children - princes in all the earth. What is given up for the King is repaid in a new and royal family. It is the same arithmetic Jesus would later promise - that whatever is left for His sake is restored a hundredfold - and the same wide horizon, a family reaching to all the earth.

I will make thy name to be remembered in all generations: therefore shall the people praise thee for ever and ever. The psalm ends where it could only end - in a name that outlasts the generations and a praise that has no last day. No merely human king holds such a thing; their names fade, their dynasties fall. But the King this song finally sings of has a throne for ever and ever (v. 6) and now a name remembered in all generations - the everlasting throne and the everlasting name meeting in one Person, whom the peoples will praise for ever and ever.