Psalms 42:7. Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.
When there is a great rain at sea, there is a peculiar kind of noise, as if the deep above were talking to the deep below. "Deep calleth unto deep; and sometimes, the two deeps clasp hands, and then there is what we call a waterspout. The psalmist uses this as a picture of his sorrows, and it is very remarkable that sorrows seldom come alone. When the rain comes down on land, it calls to the little brooks, and they say, "Here we are," and they go leaping down the hillside, and speak to the rivulets, and they say, "Here we are," and the rivulets speak to the rivers, and they say, "Here we are," and they speak to the gulfs, and the gulfs to the broad sea, till "deep calleth unto deep." So, little sorrows, great sorrows, overwhelming sorrows, come to the Christian, and they all seem to come at once. Nay, not only do they come to us, but they go over us, till we cry, "All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me." Surely, this language is an exaggeration, for it is only Christ who could say that; but, sometimes, when you and I are in a low dark frame of mind, we are apt to think that we have felt all the twigs of the rod, and that we could not be made to smart more. Little do we really know of it; God grant that we may never know more than we do! Now comes an exercise for faith, to be able, when down at the bottom of the sea, like Jonah, and at the mercy of every wave, to say with the psalmist in the next verse,
Psalms 42:7. Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.
When there is a great rain at sea, there is a peculiar kind of noise, as if the deep above were talking to the deep below. "Deep calleth unto deep; and sometimes, the two deeps clasp hands, and then there is what we call a waterspout. The psalmist uses this as a picture of his sorrows, and it is very remarkable that sorrows seldom come alone. When the rain comes down on land, it calls to the little brooks, and they say, "Here we are," and they go leaping down the hillside, and speak to the rivulets, and they say, "Here we are," and the rivulets speak to the rivers, and they say, "Here we are," and they speak to the gulfs, and the gulfs to the broad sea, till "deep calleth unto deep." So, little sorrows, great sorrows, overwhelming sorrows, come to the Christian, and they all seem to come at once. Nay, not only do they come to us, but they go over us, till we cry, "All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me." Surely, this language is an exaggeration, for it is only Christ who could say that; but, sometimes, when you and I are in a low dark frame of mind, we are apt to think that we have felt all the twigs of the rod, and that we could not be made to smart more. Little do we really know of it; God grant that we may never know more than we do! Now comes an exercise for faith, to be able, when down at the bottom of the sea, like Jonah, and at the mercy of every wave, to say with the psalmist in the next verse,