Psalms 51:14

DAVID had been grossly guilty towards his faithful and veteran friend Uriah. He had given instructions that Uriah should be led into the hottest part of the fight and then suddenly deserted so that he might be struck by the sword of the Syrians, and might appear to have died in the natural order of battle. Whereas, of course, his death was a cowardly murder, planned and devised by the very man who ought to have been his protector. It is pleasing to observe in David's penitence that he plainly names his sin. He does not call it manslaughter.

Deliver me from bloodguiltiness. He had been the means of the death of Uriah, the Hittite, a faithful and attached follower, and he now confesses that fact. Besides, his sin of adultery was a capital offence, and he puts himself down as one worthy to die the death. Honest penitents do not fetch a compass and confess their sins in an elegant periphrasis, but they come to the point, call a spade a spade, and make a clean breast of all. What other course is rational in dealing with the Omniscient? O God, thou God of my salvation. He had not ventured to come so near before. It had been, O God, up till now, but here he cries, Thou God of my salvation. Faith grows by the exercise of prayer. He confesses sin more plainly in this verse than before, and yet he deals with God more confidently: growing upward and downward at the same time are perfectly consistent. None but the King can remit the death penalty, it is therefore a joy to faith that God is King, and that he is the author and finisher of our salvation. And my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness. One would rather have expected him to say, I will sing of thy mercy; but David can see the divine way of justification, that righteousness of God which Paul afterwards spoke of by which the ungodly are justified, and he vows to sing, yea, and to sing lustily of that righteous way of mercy. After all, it is the righteousness of divine mercy which is its greatest wonder. Note how David would preach in the last verse, and now here he would sing. We can never do too much for the Lord to whom we owe more than all. If we could be preacher, precentor, doorkeeper, pew opener, foot washer, and all in one, all would be too little to show forth all our gratitude. A great sinner pardoned makes a great singer. Sin has a loud voice, and so should our thankfulness have.

DAVID had been grossly guilty towards his faithful and veteran friend Uriah. He had given instructions that Uriah should be led into the hottest part of the fight and then suddenly deserted so that he might be struck by the sword of the Syrians, and might appear to have died in the natural order of battle. Whereas, of course, his death was a cowardly murder, planned and devised by the very man who ought to have been his protector. It is pleasing to observe in David's penitence that he plainly names his sin. He does not call it manslaughter. He does not speak of it as an imprudence by which an unfortunate accident occurred to a worthy man, but he calls it by its true name, bloodshed. It is true he did not actually slay the husband of Bathsheba—it was by another hand that Uriah died. But still it was planned in David's heart that Uriah should be slain, and he was before the Lord the murderer of Uriah. He calls a spade a spade, and names his crime as bloodshed. Let us learn in our confessions to be honest with God. Do not give fair names to foul sins. Call them what you will, they will smell no sweeter. What God sees them to be, that you must labor to feel them to be, and with all openness of heart acknowledge their true character. Observe, too, that David not only gives it the right name, but is evidently oppressed with a sense of the heinousness of his sin. It is easy to use words, but it is difficult to feel their meaning. He prays like one who is consciously guilty. The blood of Uriah was now not on his hands, alone, but on his conscience. The bloody hand was before him continually and the impossibility to purge away the stain, except by the sacrificial hyssop, made David's heart lay low in the dust. The fifty-first Psalm is the photograph of a contrite spirit.

Deliver me from blood-guiltiness - This is one of the expressions that gives most color to the propriety of the title affixed to this Psalm. Here he may have in view the death of Uriah, and consider that his blood cries for vengeance against him; and nothing but the mere mercy of God can wipe this blood from his conscience. The prayer here is earnest and energetic: O God! thou God of my salvation! deliver me! The Chaldee reads, “Deliver me (מדין קטול middin ketol) from the judgment of slaughter.” My tongue shall sing aloud - My tongue shall praise thy righteousness. I shall testify to all that thou hast the highest displeasure against sin, and wilt excuse it in no person; and that so merciful art thou, that if a sinner turn to thee with a deeply penitent and broken heart, thou wilt forgive his iniquities. None, from my case, can ever presume; none, from my case, need ever despair.

Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God - Margin, as in Hebrew, “bloods.” So it is rendered by the Septuagint and the Latin Vulgate. Luther renders it “blood-guilt.” DeWette, “from blood.” Compare Isa 4:4. The “plural” form - “bloods” - is used probably to mark “intensity,” or to denote “great” guilt. The allusion is to the guilt of shedding blood, or taking life (compare Gen 9:5-6), and the reference is undoubtedly to his guilt in causing Uriah, the husband of Bathsheba, to be slain. 2Sa 11:14-17. It was this which weighed upon his conscience, and filled him with alarm. The guilt of this he prayed might be taken away, that he might have peace. The “fact” of the shedding of that blood could never be changed; the real “criminality” of that fact would always remain the same; the “crime” itself could never be declared to be innocence; his own personal “ill desert” for having caused the shedding of that blood would always remain; but the sin might be pardoned, and his soul could thus find peace. The penalty might be remitted, and, though guilty, he might be assured of the divine favor. He could not, indeed, repair the evil to Uriah - for “he” had gone beyond the power of David for good or for evil - but he could do much to express his sense of the wrong; he could do much to save others from a similar course; he could do much to benefit society by keeping others from the like guilt. He could not, indeed, recall Uriah from the grave, and repair the evil which he had done to “him,” but he might save others from such a crime, and thus preserve many a useful life from the effects of unrestrained guilty passions. […]