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 has drained out like an old 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.

Poetical Psalms by David Veliquette