To the Chief Musician. A Psalm of David
I trust You, Oh Lord; let me not ashamed be;
Your righteousness, by it, deliver, set free.
Incline Your ear, rescue me, do not prolong.
To save me: Your house of defense, a rock, strong.
Yes, You are my fortress my crag and my rock;
For Your name’s sake, lead, me, and guide like a flock.
The trap they have hidden, from it pull me free;
For You are my stronghold, a refuge to me.
My spirit I give to the care of Your hand;
Oh Lord, God of truth, You paid ransom’s demand.
And those who serve idols I surely detest;
I trust in the Lord, in Jehovah, I rest.
For Your love my joy I will gladly express;
My trouble You saw, You knew my soul’s distress.
You’ve handed me not to the enemy’s hand;
In large, roomy places, You’ve made my feet stand.
Have mercy Oh, Lord, I’m in trouble’s control.
From grief my eye ages, my body, and soul.
My life ends with anguish; my years sigh and groan;
From guilt, my strength stumbles, and weak is my bone.
Ashamed I became, there, among all my foes;
Especially, scorn from my neighbors arose.
To friends I appeared as an object of dread;
and those in the streets when they saw me they fled.
And just like a dead man, I’m on no one’s mind;
Like pottery broken, I’ve been left behind.
Much slander I heard; while fear circled about.
A plot they conspired to snuff my life out.
For me, Oh Jehovah, on You I rely:
“You’re my God,” from my heart, I voice my reply.
My times and my seasons are held in Your hand;
Deliver from foes and that badgering band.
You must on Your servant Your presence reflect;
Because of Your mercy deliver, protect.
Don’t let me be shamed, Lord, unto You I cry;
The wicked be shamed, in the grave, silent lie.
And let lying lips all be silenced and stilled;
Whose speech against righteous is pride and scorn-filled.
To those who will fear You, You’ve stored up great good;
Made for those who trust You, who in man’s sight stood.
In Your secret presence You’ll hide from man’s plots;
And secretly shelter from lying onslaughts.
All blessed, to be praised, is Jehovah, the Lord;
His marvelous mercy like city all shored.
I said in alarm, I am cut from Your sight;
Yet You heard my voice when I cried out in fright.
Oh saints love the Lord! Faithful ones He’ll preserve,
In plenty pay back what the haughty deserve.
So be of good courage, He’ll make your heart strong,
Who hope in the Lord and on Him wait and long!
Began June 25, 2002; completed March 25, 2003