Look at this solemn confession—see how David names his sin exactly what it is. He doesn't soften it by calling it manslaughter. He doesn't excuse it as an unfortunate accident that happened to a good man. No, he calls it by its true name: bloodguiltiness.

David never pulled the trigger himself. He never held the sword that killed Bathsheba's husband. But he planned Uriah's death in his heart, and before the Lord, he was a murderer.

Learn this about confession: be brutally honest with God. Do not give fair names to foul sins. Call them what you will—they will smell no sweeter. Whatever God sees them to be, labor to feel them that way too. Open your heart wide and acknowledge their real character.

Notice how the weight of his sin crushed David. It's easy to say the words—it's another thing entirely to feel their full meaning. Psalm 51 is a photograph of a contrite spirit. Let us seek that same brokenness of heart! For however excellent our words may be, if our hearts don't feel the hell-deservingness of sin, we cannot expect to find forgiveness.

But look at the prayer itself—it's addressed to the God of salvation. Forgiveness is his prerogative. It's his very name and office to save those who seek his face. Better still, David calls him "the God of MY salvation." Yes! Blessed be his name! Even while I am yet going to him through Jesus' blood, I can rejoice in the God of my salvation.

The psalmist ends with a commendable vow. If God will deliver him, he will sing—nay, more than that—he will sing aloud! Who can sing in any other style of such a mercy as this! But note the subject of the song: "Thy righteousness." Not his own goodness. Not his reformed behavior. God's righteousness.

We must sing of the finished work of our precious Savior. And here's the truth: he who knows most of forgiving love will sing the loudest.