Augustine of Hippo
I wish, dear brethren, that we had followed our father more willingly; yet, it is indeed fitting to honor our father as well. Therefore, since the one who humbly intercedes for us has imparted His command, I will share with you, beloved, the meaning of this psalm that Jesus Christ has graciously provided for us. The psalm carries the title “A Song of Praise by David.” A song of praise embodies both joy and reverence, as it expresses elation through song and devotion through praise. What could inspire greater praise than that which we cherish so deeply that disdain is unthinkable? Thus, as we exalt God, we do so with assurance. The one who offers praise finds security, liberated from the fear of shame toward the one being exalted. Let us then sing and celebrate; that is, let us offer our praise with gladness and joy. The psalm reveals what is worthy of our praise in its subsequent verses.
Come, let us raise our voices in joy to the Lord. He invites us to a magnificent celebration—not of this earthly existence, but in the Lord Himself. If there were no sorrowful joys in this life, distinct from the joy of righteousness, it would suffice to simply say, “Come, let us rejoice,” yet He emphasizes it more clearly. What does it mean to truly rejoice? To rejoice in the Lord. You should rejoice in the Lord with godly joy if you wish to stand confidently against the tribulations of this world. Yet, what does this call to “Come” imply? It suggests that those who are far away may draw near by approaching Him, and through that drawing near, they may find joy. But where are they distant from? Can a person be physically separated from the one who is omnipresent? No; rather, it is through moral disparity that humanity distances itself from God. What does it mean to be dissimilar to Him? It signifies a life not aligned with His ways; for by virtuous practices we come closer to God, and through sinful habits we move away from Him. Therefore, if we distance ourselves through dissimilarity, we move closer through resemblance. What resemblance? It is what we were made to reflect, that which we have marred through sin, yet have been restored to through repentance, which renews the divine image within us— a second impression engraved onto our souls that enables us to return to His treasures.
Let us make a joyful sound for God, our salvation. Consider, beloved, how those who sing joyfully in worldly competitions express a joy that transcends mere words; how they, upon reading familiar lines, cannot contain themselves and erupt with unspoken feelings. If they can create such joyful noise from earthly delights, how much more should we, from the depths of heavenly joy that truly defies expression?
Let us turn our faces toward Him in confession. Confession in scripture has a dual significance. On one hand, there is the confession of praise, and on the other, the confession of lament. The former honors the one praised, while the latter signifies the repentance of the penitent. For when we praise God, we confess; when we hold ourselves accountable, we confess. The tongue’s highest calling lies in this act. Truly, I believe this embodies the vows of which the psalmist speaks: “I will repay You my vows that I have voiced.” There is nothing more profound than discernment, nothing so essential both to comprehend and to perform. How then can we discern our vows to God? By offering praise and acknowledging our faults; for it is within His mercy to forgive our transgressions. If He had chosen to reckon with us according to our actions, He would have found grounds solely for our condemnation. “Oh, come,” He says, “let us return from our misdeeds, and let it not be that our past is recounted against us; but rather, may we start anew, with the slate cleared of our debts.” Therefore, the more one feels despair over their sins, the more earnestly should they confess; for the greater the acknowledgment of the Forgiver, the more profound the penitent’s praise. Let us not fear that by referencing confession, we have departed from the song of praise; acknowledging our shortcomings is indeed part of the praise, for in our confessions, we glorify God’s grace.
And let us raise a joyful shout with psalms. We have noted the meaning of joyful noise previously: the repetition reinforces action. The refrain serves as motivation for our enthusiastic response. In places where emotion runs high, familiar phrases are often reiterated—not to make them more commonplace, but to deepen their impact. For it is repeated to convey the speaker’s fervor… Listen now: “For the Lord is a great God and a great King above all gods.” The Lord will not forsake His people. To whom does He extend this promise? We cannot fabricate our own interpretation here; for the Apostle has elucidated it for us. He referred to the Jewish nation—a prophetic lineage, rooted in Abraham, entrusted with the mysteries that foretold our Savior; a people among whom the temple and anointing lay, configuring a framework so that after these shadows, the Light would arrive. This was indeed God's chosen people; the prophets were sent to them, and through them, the revelations of God were delivered. So, does this mean all within that nation are forsaken? Absolutely not. The Apostle refers to it as the good olive tree—a lineage originating with the patriarchs. Thus, this tree remains; though a portion of its branches has been cut away, not all are lost. For if the entirety of its branches had been severed, how do we account for Peter, John, Thomas, Matthew, and Andrew? Where did the Apostle Paul, a living testament to this tree, come from? They were all part of this lineage. Where are those five hundred brethren who witnessed our Lord’s resurrection? And from where did so many thousands—who, as described by Peter, adhered in zeal after the apostles spoke in tongues—derive? These were the same individuals who, amidst their guilt from the crucifixion, transformed their ways upon coming to faith. Thus, since they stemmed from this people, the psalm asserts: “For the Lord will not reject His people.”
What further truths does the psalm impart? “All the corners of the earth are in His hand.” We recognize the cornerstone: Christ. A corner cannot exist without two walls meeting; they converge without opposition at this point. The circumcised and the uncircumcised come together in Christ, who became the very stone upon which it was declared, “The stone which the builders rejected became the cornerstone.”
For the sea belongs to Him, and He made it. Here, the sea symbolizes this world, but God created it, setting the boundaries of its waves. Thus, no temptation can surge beyond the demarcations He has established. His hands have also shaped the dry land—let that dry land symbolize a thirst for the grace of God, which descends upon you like refreshing rain, yielding fruitful results. He ensures that the waves do not obscure what He has sown. Therefore, let us call out to the Lord.
Come, let us worship and bow down; let us weep before the Lord our Maker. You may be consumed with awareness of your errors; extinguish the flames of sin with tears before the Lord. Weep without fear before the one who formed you; He does not scorn the work of His hands. Do not presume you can find healing on your own; alone, you may stumble, but the Creator alone can restore you. Weep before the Lord our Maker; confess to Him; let His presence guide you in your acknowledgment. For who are you when you weep and confess before Him, but the creation fashioned by His hands? A created being holds profound trust in the Creator, not casually, but because of the divine image within.
For He is the Lord our God. But as we kneel and lower ourselves before Him, let us recall who we are: we are the flock under His care, the sheep of His hand. Observe how beautifully He reorders the phrase to attribute significance to each word, helping us to realize that His people are akin to sheep. He did not merely state, “The sheep of His pasture and the people of His hand”—which seems fitting since sheep belong in the pasture—but declared, “The people of His pasture.” Thus, the people are sheep; indeed, He calls these sheep “the people,” for they belong to Him. He also praises these sheep in the Song of Songs, depicting His perfect sheep as the chaste teeth of His beloved, the Holy Church: “Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn, coming from the washing; every one bears twins, and not one is barren.” What do “your teeth” symbolize? They represent those through whom you articulate; the teeth of the Church are those through which she communicates. How do your teeth appear? Like a flock of shorn sheep. Why are they shorn? Because they have cast off the entanglements of the world. Those sheep I previously mentioned were shorn by God's command when He instructed, “Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will find treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” They complied with this command, laying aside their burdens. The reference to believers being baptized suggests they emerge from cleansing. In doing so, each one gives birth to twins—the two core commandments upon which all Law and Prophets depend.
So, today, if you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts. O my people, the chosen of God! God is addressing His people, not merely those He will not forsake, but all who belong to Him. For He proclaims through the cornerstone: the message is spoken in Christ to the Jews and the Gentiles alike. While you once heard His voice through Moses, do not harden your hearts. When you become resistant, He sent prophets; now He speaks directly—allow your hearts to be softened. The one who sent heralds now approaches in person; here, He speaks with His own voice, the same one who previously communicated through the prophets.
As during the trials and temptations in the wilderness, where your forefathers tested Me, let us not emulate them. They were your ancestors, but should you choose not to follow their example, they are no longer your fathers in spirit. If the Gentiles come from all corners of the earth, declaring, “Our fathers inherited falsehoods, futility, and meaningless things,” if they abandon their idols and turn to the God of Israel, how could Israel—the one whom God liberated from Egypt through the Red Sea, where He vanquished their pursuers; the one whom He fed in the wilderness with manna—turn away when the Gentiles receive Him? When your ancestors tried My patience, tested Me, and witnessed My wonders...
For forty years I was grieved by this generation and spoke: “These are a people whose hearts stray continually, for they have not known My ways.” The number forty signifies the fullness of time, as if the ages are completed by it. Our Lord fasted for forty days and endured temptation in the wilderness for forty days. He remained with His disciples for forty days after the resurrection. In the first forty, He demonstrated trials; in the latter, He offered comfort—indeed, for when we face trials, we receive solace. For His Body—the Church—must withstand tribulations in this realm; yet the Comforter, who promised, “Behold, I am with you always to the end of the age,” never abandons us. In the span of forty years, He aimed to manifest a humanity that perpetually frustrates Him, representing the totality of this age.