Psa 55:4-8 | Clarke | STEP | Verse 4 The terrors of death are fallen upon me - I am in hourly expectation of being massacred.

Psalms 55:4-8

Verse 4

The terrors of death are fallen upon me - I am in hourly expectation of being massacred. Verse 5

Fearfulness - How natural is this description! He is in distress; - he mourns; - makes a noise; - sobs and sighs; - his heart is wounded - he expects nothing but death; - this produces fear; - this produces tremor, which terminates in that deep apprehension of approaching and inevitable ruin that overwhelms him with horror. No man ever described a wounded heart like David. Verse 6

O that I had wings like a dove! - He was so surrounded, so hemmed in on every side by his adversaries, that he could see no way for his escape unless he had wings, and could take flight. The dove is a bird of very rapid wing; and some oil them passing before his eyes at the time, might have suggested the idea expressed here.

And be at rest - Get a habitation. Verse 7

Would I wander far off - He did escape; and yet his enemies were so near, as to throw stones at him: but he escaped beyond Jordan. 2Sam 17:22, 2Sam 17:23.

A passage in the Octavia of Seneca has been referred to as being parallel to this of David. It is in the answer of Octavia to the Chorus, Acts v., ver. 914-923.

Quis mea digne deflere potest Mala?

Quae lacrymis nostris quaestus

Reddet Aedon? cujus pennas

Utinam miserae mihi fata darent!

Fugerem luctus ablata meos

Penna volucri, procul et coetus

Hominum tristes sedemque feram.

Sola in vacuo nemore, et tenui

Ramo pendens, querulo possem

Gutture moestum fundere murmur.

My woes who enough can bewail?

O what notes can my sorrows express?

Sweet Philomel's self e'en would fail

To respond with her plaintive distress.

O had I her wings I would fly

To where sorrows I ne'er should feel more,

Upborne on her plumes through the sky,

Regions far from mankind would explore.

In a grove where sad silence should reign,

On a spray would I seat me alone;

In shrill lamentations complain,

And in wailings would pour forth my moan.

J. B. Clarke. Verse 8

The windy storm - From the sweeping wind and tempest - Absalom and his party and the mutinous people in general.