The triumph of victory.
"Thou hast given him his heart' s desire." We seem to hear in this psalm the trumpets and harps and shawms of the temple, and jubilant voices of Levites praising God for some great victory. Joy-bells are rung and Te Deum laudamus chanted because the king has come home in triumph. The psalm is closely connected with the preceding one. There we see the king going forth to war, consecrating his banner and trusting his cause to God. The Church prays, "The Lord hear thee … grant thee according to thine own heart" (Psalms 20:1-4). Here it triumphs in victory, and praises God as the Hearer of prayer. Whether the psalm refers to some special victory of David or any of his successors; or whether it be applied to Christ and his kingdom, the practical spiritual lessons we may draw from it are the same. One of the greatest Jewish commentators says, "Our ancient doctors interpreted this psalm of King Messiah; but against the heretics (Christians) it is better to understand it of David" (Rashi, quoted by Perowne). Take up briefly the leading thoughts which the text naturally suggests.
I. DESIRE IS THE MAINSPRING OF LIFE. Could the infinite multitude of desires, good or bad, transient or constant, noble or base, loving or selfish, which at this moment agitate human hearts, all cease, and be replaced by dull apathy, hope and effort would die. The whole busy drama of life would come to a dead stand, like an engine stopping when the fire is burnt out. Because so many of these desires are either wrong or ill-regulated, the word "lust"—often used in our English Bible, originally meaning simply "pleasure" or "desire "—has come to have an ill meaning. St. James puts his finger on these ungoverned discordant desires as the source of all the strife that disturbs the world (James 4:1, James 4:2). If all hearts submitted their desires to reason and God' s law, the world would be one vast peace society. Vexatious litigation and unfair competition would be unknown.
II. Therefore OUR HEART' S DESIRE IS THE TEST OF OUR CHARACTER. Not what a man says and does, but what he would like to say and do, if he could and dared, decide his character. "As he thinketh in his heart, so is he." From the momentary wish, too unreasonable or too languid to stir us to action, to the deep steadfast purpose which rules a life, our desires mark us for what we are, and mould us to what we shall be. Find what it is you deeply and habitually desire, and you have the key to your characters (Proverbs 19:22).
III. DESIRE IS THE SOUL OF PRAYER. If we do not present to God our heart' s desire, we do not pray. Words without desire are not living prayer, only a dead form. Desire without words may be the truest, highest kind of prayer (Romans 8:26). Here is the peril of even the best forms of prayer. Their benefit is that they help to put our best desires into better words than we could find for ourselves; and by the power of association, as well as aptness, quicken our desires and instruct us what we ought to desire. Their danger is that we may mistake form and habit for life and spirit—a danger not confined to set forms. Extempore prayer may be as heartless and lifeless as a Tartar prayer-mill. Our own private prayers may degenerate into dead forms. Every earnest Christian (I suppose) is aware of this danger. When men came to our Saviour, his question was not "What have you to say?" but "What wilt thou that I should do unto thee?" What is thy heart's desire?
IV. The whole world of human desire is OPEN TO GOD' S EYE. Heart-secrets are no secrets to him (Jeremiah 17:9, Jeremiah 17:10). The silent wish that flashed to the surface of consciousness, soaring up into light, or plunging, like a guilty thing, into darkness—God saw it; sees it still. The passionate longing, so timid yet so strong that the heart would die sooner than betray it, is to him as though proclaimed with sound of trumpet. No wish so sudden, strange, ambitious, as to take him by surprise. No lawful desire but he has provided for its satisfaction, either in creatures or in his own uncreated fulness. And unlawful desires are so, not because he forbids anything really good for us, but because they mean our harm, not happiness. This perfect Divine knowledge of all our desires, and of the wisdom or unwisdom of granting them, is not confined, remember, to the moment when we become conscious of them, or present them in prayer. They are foreseen. For the most part—perhaps, if we knew all, in every case—an answer to prayer implies preparation. Our prayer for daily bread is answered out of the fulness of last year' s harvest—the fruit of all harvests since corn was first reaped and sown. This abyss of Divine foreknowledge utterly confounds our intellect; yet to doubt it would be to doubt if God is God. Why then, with this boundless knowledge—foreknowledge—of all our desires and the conditions of their fulfilment, has God appointed prayer? Why does his Word show it to us as the very heart of religion? Partly, we may venture to say, because God delights to answer prayer. If not, it would scarcely be true—at least intelligible—that "God is love." Partly because blessings are doubly, nay, tenfold, precious when they come in answer to prayer; a strong help to faith, a spur to hope, an assurance of God' s love, and powerful motive to love (Proverbs 13:19). But supremely (I venture to think) in order that what is deepest, innermost, strongest, in our nature—our "heart' s desire"—should bring us closest to God; make us intensely feel our dependence on him; be consecrated, being offered to him in prayer.
V. Thank God, OUR HEART' S DESIRES—how large, lofty, pure, reasonable, soever—ARE NOT THE MEASURE OF GOD' S GIVING; do not circumscribe his willingness, any more than his power. He is "able to do exceeding abundantly," etc. (Ephesians 3:20). If men' s desires are like the sea, his mercy is the shore. His chiefest, "his unspeakable Gift" came in answer to no desire of human hearts or prayer from human lips. "God so loved" a prayerless, thankless, godless "world, that he gave his only begotten Son." This Gift has given us a new measure of expectation (Romans 8:32). What is more vital, it has opened a new fountain of desire in our hearts, and thereby enlarged, deepened, exalted, the whole scope of our life. Desire to be like Christ, to glorify Christ, to be with Christ,—these three give to life a new meaning, purpose, hope. If these be our heart' s desires, they are secure of fulfilment, because they are in agreement with God' s most glorious Gift, his most merciful purpose, his most precious promises. Here, as everywhere, our Saviour has left us an example, that we should follow his steps. We know what the supreme consuming desire of his heart was John 4:34. In the midst of life and usefulness, he longed for death; not as an escape from this world, but as the accomplishment of his destined work (Luke 12:50; John 10:17, John 10:18). "For the joy," etc. (Hebrews 12:2). In your salvation and mine he sees "of the travail of his soul" (Isaiah 53:1-12 :24).
CONCLUSION. We are furnished with a practical test—first, of our desires; secondly, of our prayers. Our desires (we said) are the index to our character. Will they fit into our prayers? Are they such that we can come with boldness to the throne of grace through the blood of Jesus, and say, "Lord, all my desire is before thee" (Psalms 38:9; Isaiah 26:8)? Prayer (we said) is living, real, worth offering, only as it is the utterance of our desires, the pouring out of our heart. Are our prayers such a true outbreathing of our "heart' s desire" ? Suppose, when you have joined in some high-toned hymn, or prayed in the earnest words of some ancient saint, a voice from heaven were to ask, "Do you mean what you say?" would it be for good or ill, here and hereafter, if God indeed granted your heart' s desire?
HOMILIES BY C. CLEMANCE