"From the ends of the earth will I cry unto Thee" (Psalm 61:2).

Suppose it were possible for us to be banished to the uttermost verge of the green earth, to "rivers unknown to song." Suppose us to be hastened far away, where dwindling daylight dieth out, and where the sun's bleak ray scarce scattereth light on the world— where vegetation at last dies out. Suppose us banished into exile without a friend and without a helper—even there, from the ends of the earth we would find that prayer was available. It would still appear a delightful privilege to cry unto God.

In fact, if there be a place nearer than another to God's throne, it is just the end of the earth, for the end of the earth is the beginning of heaven. Where our strength ends there God's omnipotence begins. Nature's extremity is God's opportunity. Again we repeat it, the end of the earth is the beginning of heaven.

Is not my Father's house a large one? Yon dome, the blue sky, its roof, the rolling seas, the swelling floods, the green meadows, the huge mountains —are not these the floors of His house? And where can I be driven from the dominions of my God, and away from the voice of His love?

I think David meant by "the ends of the earth," in this case, a place where he should be far away from his friends, far away from human help, and far away from God's sanctuary. But supposing us to be banished from everything good and dear to us, even then we could not be banished from God's throne. "From the ends of the earth will I cry unto Thee."

—C. H. Spurgeon