Psalm 22


To the chief Musician set to the tune of the hind of the morning

My God, my God, why have you left me alone;
So far from deliverance, words barely a groan?

My God! No reply though I cry in day’s light;
And there is no silence nor sleep in my night.

All holy are you, set apart there you dwell;
Enthroned in the praises of your Israel.

Our fathers leaned on you, in you trusted in;
They trusted, and you did deliver them then.

Yes, they were delivered; and to you, they cried;
They were not confounded, and on you relied.

But I am a worm, not a man… stigmatized;
By men, I am scorned, by the people despised.

And all those who see me sneer, mock and deride;
Their head shaking, lips wide, hurl words that are snide:

“He trusts in the Lord so, the one he says saves;
So let him deliver, since in him he raves!”

So safely you’ve kept me at my mother’s breast.
Still, you are the one, from the womb you did wrest;

From birth, yes the womb, I was cast upon you
From my mother’s belly my God, you I knew.

So be not far from me, for trouble is near;
And not one to help me, no helper is near.

Surrounded by bulls that encircle around;
And strong bulls of Bashan my feet now surround.

They open their mouths against me, teeth laid bare;
All lion-like, roaring and ready to tear.

Like water I’m poured out, my bones come apart;
Within me it’s melted; like wax is my heart.

My strength is all drained out like some broken pot;
My tongue clings to mouth’s roof; to death’s dust you’ve brought.

Surrounded by dogs, wicked circle in bands;
And now they have pierced through my feet and my hands.

My bones, I can count them… of each I’m aware;
Upon me, they look, and they gloat, and they glare.

Among them my garments; my clothes they divide;
Yes, even my raiment by lot they decide.

O Lord, be not distant, from me flee away;
O hasten to help me, my strength and my stay.

Deliver me now; from the sword save my soul;
And my precious life out from these dog’s control.

From lion’s mouth save me; let me not be torn;
You’ve answered my cry from the wild oxen’s horn.

Your name I’ll declare, to my brothers will raise;
And in the assembly it’s you I will praise.

All Jacob’s seed praise him; those who the Lord fear;
And Israel’s seed glorify and revere.

The ills of the ill he’ll not loathe nor despise;
His face he’s not hidden, and he hears his cries.

And in the great gathering, my praise comes from you;
Before those who fear him, I’ll pay my vows too.

The poor and afflicted shall eat and be filled;
The Lord seekers praise him; your heart won’t be stilled!

The world will remember and turn to the Lord;
And all nation’s families will worship toward.

The kingship and kingdom to the Lord belongs;
And He is the ruler of the nation’s throngs.

The rich of the earth shall all feast and extol;
Those dust bound, before Him bow, keep not their soul.

Posterity shall serve Him and will not rebel;
To new generations, they’ll of the Lord tell.

His righteousness they will tell people unborn;
that He has accomplished it, they will forewarn.