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John Gill
INTRODUCTION TO Psalms 103 A Psalm of David. The Targum adds, "spoken in prophecy,'' as doubtless it was, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Some think it was written by David, after a fit of illness, and his recovery from it, since he speaks of his diseases being healed, and his youth renewed; for which reason the Syriac interpreter suggests it was written in his old age; for he makes the...
John Gill
For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone,.... A stormy wind, as the Targum, which tears it up by its roots, or blows off the flower, and it is seen no more; or a blighting easterly wind, which, blowing on it, shrivels it up, and it dies at once; such an one as blasted the seven ears of corn in Pharaoh's dream, Genesis 41:23 or any impetuous, drying, and noxious wind: and so when the east wind...
Matthew Henry
This psalm calls more for devotion than exposition; it is a most excellent psalm of praise, and of general use. The psalmist, I. Stirs up himself and his own soul to praise God (ver. 1, 2) for his favour to him in particular (ver. 3-5), to the church in general, and to all good men, to whom he is, and will be, just, and kind, and constant (ver. 6-18), and for his government of the world, ver. 19....
Charles H. Spurgeon
As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. Before even the mower’s scythe comes, the hot eastern wind has dried up the grass, and it is gone. How little a thing carries us away! It seems as if it did not need death to come with a sharp scythe to cut down such frail...
Charles H. Spurgeon
As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. Yet doth God think of us, even as he doth of the grass; and as he giveth to each blade of grass its own drop of dew, so do we seem to feel hanging about each one of us a glistening drop of mercy, for which let us praise his holy...
Charles H. Spurgeon
As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. In a very little time, unless Christ should first come in his glory, this is what will happen to all of us. A breath of fever-bearing wind, or some other disease, borne on the wings of the wind, will sweep over us, and the...
Charles H. Spurgeon
For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. But the mercy of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children’s children; to such as keep his covenant, and...
Charles H. Spurgeon
For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. The hot winds of the East blow over a meadow, and it is burned up immediately. Even in the South of France, when the Sirocco has blown across from Africa I have seen the fairest flowers look in a short time as if they had been burned with a hot iron, and such are we when pestilence, as we call it, comes. It...
Charles H. Spurgeon
As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. Shall we sorrow about this? No: for we remember that we have another note yet in the fourth verse, “Who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies.” So he chants that over in the seventeenth verse.
Charles H. Spurgeon
For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. As a congregation, we have had most grievous proof of this truth during the last two or three months. It has seemed to me as if everybody was dying; our ranks have been...
Charles H. Spurgeon
For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. Some of the hot winds of the East come over a meadow, and it is burned up immediately. I have seen the fairest and loveliest flowers look, in a short time, as if they had been burned with a hot iron when the Sirocco had blown across from Africa: and such are we. We speak of the breath of the pestilence; it...