is for
its end, that a poor man may be delivered. The paradox of prayer never
found a more bold expression than in this triumphant utterance, of the
insignificant occasion for, and the equally insignificant result sought
by, the exercise of the energy of Omnipotence.

The Divine deliverance is set forth under the familiar image of the
coming of God in a tempest. Before it bursts, and simultaneous with the
prayer, the "earth rocks and quivers," the sunless "pillars of the hills
reel and rock to and fro," as if conscious of the gathering wrath which
begins to flame far off in the highest heavens. There has been no
forth-putting yet of the Divine power. It is but accumulating its fiery
energy, and already the solid framework of the world trembles,
anticipating the coming crash. The firmest things shake, the loftiest
bow before His wrath. "There went up smoke out of his nostrils, and fire
out of his mouth devoured; coals were kindled by it." This kindling
anger, expressed by these tremendous metaphors, is conceived of as the
preparation in "His temple" for the earthly manifestation of delivering
vengeance. It is like some distant thunder-cloud which grows on the
horizon into ominous blackness, and seems to be filling its
ashen-coloured depths with store of lightnings. Then the piled-up terror
begins to move, and, drawing nearer, pours out an avalanche of gloom
seamed with fire. First the storm-cloud descends, hanging lower and
lower in the sky. And whose foot is that which is planted upon its heavy
mass, thick and frowning enough to be the veil of God?

"He bowed the heavens, and came down,
And blackness of cloud was under His feet."

Then the sudden rush of wind which heralds the lightning breaks the
awful silence:--

And He rode upon a cherub, and did fly,
Yea, He swept along upon the wings of the wind.

The cherubs bear, as in a chariot, the throned God, and the swift
pinions of the storm bear the cherubs. But He that sits upon the throne,
above material forces and the highest creatures, is unseen. The
psalmist's imagination stops at its base, nor dares to gaze into that
light above; and the silence is more impressive than all words. Instead
of pagan attempts at a likeness of God, we have next painted, with equal
descriptive accuracy, poetic force, and theological truth, the pitchy
blackness which hides Him. In the gloom of its depths He makes His
"secret place" His "tent." It is "darkness of waters," that