May the Lord hear you

And answer with strong wings

Beating on gale winds.

May your help come 

Even before the need is raised—

Swift as hunting hawks, fleet as falcons .

May he send you every help you ask,

Bigger than heart hoped, dream guessed, 

Or mind ever tried.

 

Then we will watch you and sing

Glad, great-hearted songs.

Then we will see that our God

Knows how to save.

We’ll know the silent sky

Can speak, and holy heaven 

Ring like struck bells.

Some laugh at our long odds

And hope in what their hands can touch,

But we brim and run over

Even when we raise

Empty hands the highest.

 

Lord, we rise and wait at hopefall

For the sound of hushed wings.

Hear us.

May the Lord hear you
And answer with strong wings
Beating on gale winds.
May your help come&nbsp;
Even before the need is raised&mdash;
Swift as hunting hawks, fleet as falcons .
May he send you every help you ask,
Bigger than heart hoped, dream guessed,&nbsp;
Or mind ever tried.
&nbsp;
Then we will watch you and sing
Glad, great-hearted songs.
Then we will see that our God
Knows how to save.
We&rsquo;ll know the silent sky
Can speak, and holy heaven&nbsp;
Ring like struck bells.
Some laugh at our long odds
And hope in what their hands can touch,
But we brim and run over
Even when we raise
Empty hands the highest.
&nbsp;
Lord, we rise and wait at hopefall
For the sound of hushed wings.
Hear us.

Psalm 20—We’ll Know the Silent Sky Can Speak, and Holy Heaven Ring Like Struck Bells

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/22ee5ed6-7d58-4afd-ad81-b4b6002240f3/transcript

Every fool knows God is gone,

So they give themselves to things

They can’t come back from;

Feed themselves on limelight;

Live by the hope of moving on.

Like everyone who has sold themselves,

They insist it was worth it.

 

The Lord looks down to see

If anyone has yet let

Goodness creep up on them,

Or let the hard hands of grief

Shake and wake them,

But he sees knurled knuckle hearts,

Hearts that snarl, hearts far gone.

Not even one is ready to do good.

 

They tell themselves they’ve tallied God—

Totted up his promises, but none solved,

None stacked against his wrongs;

All yielded impossible sums

Only a fool would count on.

 

None call upon the Lord.

Rather they eat God’s people

As one devours an oyster.

They would pry open our inner parts

And swallow us down with sauces.

They laugh at jokes that aren’t there,

And hollow themselves like bird bones.

At night, they grind panicseed

Between dull teeth and wake gasping,

Thinking they have heard a voice.

 

But God is a falcon. God has claws on.

His silence is a hunting hawk.

His wing shadow passes over

The weak, marks them.

His dread dives all down wilder.

His love is with them, prowling wider.

 

Oh, that salvation would find us,

Fall on us, hem us in,

Scatter back this rabble,

And make us glad again.

Every fool knows God is gone,
So they give themselves to things
They can&rsquo;t come back from;
Feed themselves on limelight;
Live by the hope of moving on.
Like everyone who has sold themselves,
They insist it was worth it.
&nbsp;
The Lord looks down to see
If anyone has yet let
Goodness creep up on them,
Or let the hard hands of grief
Shake and wake them,
But he sees knurled knuckle hearts,
Hearts that snarl, hearts far gone.
Not even one is ready to do good.
&nbsp;
They tell themselves they&rsquo;ve tallied God&mdash;
Totted up his promises, but none solved,
None stacked against his wrongs;
All yielded impossible sums
Only a fool would count on.
&nbsp;
None call upon the Lord.
Rather they eat God&rsquo;s people
As one devours an oyster.
They would pry open our inner parts
And swallow us down with sauces.
They laugh at jokes that aren&rsquo;t there,
And hollow themselves like bird bones.
At night, they grind panicseed
Between dull teeth and wake gasping,
Thinking they have heard a voice.
&nbsp;
But God is a falcon. God has claws on.
His silence is a hunting hawk.
His wing shadow passes over
The weak, marks them.
His dread dives all down wilder.
His love is with them, prowling wider.
&nbsp;
Oh, that salvation would find us,
Fall on us, hem us in,
Scatter back this rabble,
And make us glad again.

Psalm 14—Every Fool Knows God Is Gone

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/fc43b8cd-faae-4412-8ba1-b4ac000e150d/transcript

When trouble days came,

I rooted and waited for God.

Though the walls of the world give way,

And the mountains are upended,

And the foaming waves climb 

As high as the sky; I will stay settled here. 

I looked a fool, but my shelter stood.

 

Father, sweep me into your high hold

And seal the doors. River me in

And make me glad again. 

Though all the madness that ever was

Arrayed itself around your walls,

It can’t claim us. It takes no share of us.

No rage, nor waves can rise higher than God. 

 

He keeps an unimaginable summer

That evil can’t blacken or break.

He makes wars cease.

He breaks bows and splinters spears,

Sears chariots, seeds silence,

Raises his words above the din, 

And sets the world right again.

 

So be still. Be small. Go quiet.

Love and sing and wonder—

Unharmed and unarmed. 

Rest. Watch. 

He is God. 

He doesn’t need you to lift him up;

He is under your feet. He carries you.

When trouble days came,
I rooted and waited for God.
Though the walls of the world give way,
And the mountains are upended,
And the foaming waves climb&nbsp;
As high as the sky; I will stay settled here.&nbsp;
I looked a fool, but my shelter stood.
&nbsp;
Father, sweep me into your high hold
And seal the doors. River me in
And make me glad again.&nbsp;
Though all the madness that ever was
Arrayed itself around your walls,
It can&rsquo;t claim us. It takes no share of us.
No rage, nor waves can rise higher than God.&nbsp;
&nbsp;
He keeps an unimaginable summer
That evil can&rsquo;t blacken or break.
He makes wars cease.
He breaks bows and splinters spears,
Sears chariots, seeds silence,
Raises his words above the din,&nbsp;
And sets the world right again.
&nbsp;
So be still. Be small. Go quiet.
Love and sing and wonder&mdash;
Unharmed and unarmed.&nbsp;
Rest. Watch.&nbsp;
He is God.&nbsp;
He doesn&rsquo;t need you to lift him up;
He is under your feet. He carries you.

Psalm 46—No rage, nor waves can rise higher than God

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/a16294a0-e615-4c15-b466-b497018528c9/transcript

Psalm 28—You Are There When the Grace Gathers Around the Table at Dinner, in the Hallowed Halls of the Real World.

 

I forget how to begin, Lord.

Wait for me. It’ll take a minute

To find my way from here

To somewhere else.

 

I’ve been digging ditches all summer, 

Sweating through my graveclothes.

I can feel the beat, beat,

Beat of things going faster—my pulse, 

My pitted prayers, the waltzing clock.

I’ve been patting my pockets since June,

And I keep coming up short.

I thought I was only busy,

But I watched these holes getting deeper, 

And realized: one is as good as another.

 

All day a question runs in my head:

Will you meet me more than halfway,

Or will you drag me off with the wicked? 

I can find their every shortfall in myself. 

I have taken my sin in sips,

While I waited for time to eat away at my resolve.

I have settled for less

And insisted it was worth it.

I have pressed my hands to the wall

In the space between two trains

And hoped my fleeting pleas would pass for prayer.

 

You hold yourself silent,

But I know you are there.

You show yourself and dance away,

You made your rumor run 

Under the wind, wild as wolves, 

Catching, coy, quicksilver—

Purple in fingers picking blackberries,

Gasping in the azaleas,

Cascading in summer hollyhocks 

Grown head-high and higher. You are there 

In the throaty chuckle of ravens brooding 

Like a gang of black toads in the oak trees.

You are there when the grace gathers

Around the table at dinner,

In the hallowed halls of the real world,

Ready to be passed again from hand to hand

In bits of bread and cups of wine.

 

Lord, help me. Hear me.

Gird yourself and guard me.

Show up, my God, you plodder! 

I cannot give much more than this.

If you are not my help,

I have none. Shepherd, 

Carry me.

Psalm 28&mdash;You Are There When the Grace Gathers Around the Table at Dinner, in the Hallowed Halls of the Real World.
&nbsp;
I forget how to begin, Lord.
Wait for me. It&rsquo;ll take a minute
To find my way from here
To somewhere else.
&nbsp;
I&rsquo;ve been digging ditches all summer,&nbsp;
Sweating through my graveclothes.
I can feel the beat, beat,
Beat of things going faster&mdash;my pulse,&nbsp;
My pitted prayers, the waltzing clock.
I&rsquo;ve been patting my pockets since June,
And I keep coming up short.
I thought I was only busy,
But I watched these holes getting deeper,&nbsp;
And realized: one is as good as another.
&nbsp;
All day a question runs in my head:
Will you meet me more than halfway,
Or will you drag me off with the wicked?&nbsp;
I can find their every shortfall in myself.&nbsp;
I have taken my sin in sips,
While I waited for time to eat away at my resolve.
I have settled for less
And insisted it was worth it.
I have pressed my hands to the wall
In the space between two trains
And hoped my fleeting pleas would pass for prayer.
&nbsp;
You hold yourself silent,
But I know you are there.
You show yourself and dance away,
You made your rumor run&nbsp;
Under the wind, wild as wolves,&nbsp;
Catching, coy, quicksilver&mdash;
Purple in fingers picking blackberries,
Gasping in the azaleas,
Cascading in summer hollyhocks&nbsp;
Grown head-high and higher. You are there&nbsp;
In the throaty chuckle of ravens brooding&nbsp;
Like a gang of black toads in the oak trees.
You are there when the grace gathers
Around the table at dinner,
In the hallowed halls of the real world,
Ready to be passed again from hand to hand
In bits of bread and cups of wine.
&nbsp;
Lord, help me. Hear me.
Gird yourself and guard me.
Show up, my God, you plodder!&nbsp;
I cannot give much more than this.
If you are not my help,
I have none. Shepherd,&nbsp;
Carry me.

Psalm 28—You are there when the grace gathers around the table at dinner, in the hallowed halls of the real world.

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/a6b40785-53df-436f-878d-b48b010e3952/transcript

 

 

I ran scared for a long time,

Wanting to be safer than I was.

I made narrow escapes but couldn’t 

Quite shake what hounded me.

I cried for help, for healing,

For answers, for anything.

You heard me. You gave me

My life back. You hid me 

In a quiet place only because I asked—

But it was years before I could see it.

 

People of God, if the Lord has been your help, 

Raise up whatever song you have.

He is a whirlwind and a harrow 

But you can’t shake him.

His love lasts the night and all life long.

He knows how to wait;

Take as long as you need.

No night tears can stop the birds

And bells of dawn singing every morning.

Like fireseed, sorrow tills the soil

Where supple flowers grow.

 

When I prospered, I promised myself

That I would always prosper, 

That I would never slip.

I grew bright on limelight.

My life was mirrors, and everything

Mimicked my gestures but never touched.

I scooped laughter into my lap

And every hope came by the handful.

But it was all hung on the braided

Thread of your favor. My promises

Came to nothing when you hid your face.

The faith I thought was anvils

Was only a sly season

That let half truths gather, 

And stagger around in masquerade.

You lifted the mask away,

And I was dismayed.

Your hammer fell and the brittle, bright

Charade shattered.

 

Lord, have mercy.

We both know I was battered, barely

Able to drag grief-riddled prayers

Across your threshold,

And I am not out of my straits yet.

What good is my life 

If it becomes no different than death?

Was I not scared enough already?

Do the dead praise you?

Do they tell stories to one another 

Of your faithfulness as they lie 

Side by side in the dust?

 

Show me your smile and this cathedral 

Chest will breathe again, will sing.

Make me rise and walk, 

And these stumbling feet will tap out a tattoo, 

Even sketch the steps of a silly dance. 

End the sackcloth season and give 

Me gladness back in double draughts.

When the dirge days end,

When I am safe again,

I will not be silent.

My life will be my thanks forever.

 

&nbsp;
&nbsp;
I ran scared for a long time,
Wanting to be safer than I was.
I made narrow escapes but couldn&rsquo;t&nbsp;
Quite shake what hounded me.
I cried for help, for healing,
For answers, for anything.
You heard me. You gave me
My life back. You hid me&nbsp;
In a quiet place only because I asked&mdash;
But it was years before I could see it.
&nbsp;
People of God, if the Lord has been your help,&nbsp;
Raise up whatever song you have.
He is a whirlwind and a harrow&nbsp;
But you can&rsquo;t shake him.
His love lasts the night and all life long.
He knows how to wait;
Take as long as you need.
No night tears can stop the birds
And bells of dawn singing every morning.
Like fireseed, sorrow tills the soil
Where supple flowers grow.
&nbsp;
When I prospered, I promised myself
That I would always prosper,&nbsp;
That I would never slip.
I grew bright on limelight.
My life was mirrors, and everything
Mimicked my gestures but never touched.
I scooped laughter into my lap
And every hope came by the handful.
But it was all hung on the braided
Thread of your favor. My promises
Came to nothing when you hid your face.
The faith I thought was anvils
Was only a sly season
That let half truths gather,&nbsp;
And stagger around in masquerade.
You lifted the mask away,
And I was dismayed.
Your hammer fell and the brittle, bright
Charade shattered.
&nbsp;
Lord, have mercy.
We both know I was battered, barely
Able to drag grief-riddled prayers
Across your threshold,
And I am not out of my straits yet.
What good is my life&nbsp;
If it becomes no different than death?
Was I not scared enough already?
Do the dead praise you?
Do they tell stories to one another&nbsp;
Of your faithfulness as they lie&nbsp;
Side by side in the dust?
&nbsp;
Show me your smile and this cathedral&nbsp;
Chest will breathe again, will sing.
Make me rise and walk,&nbsp;
And these stumbling feet will tap out a tattoo,&nbsp;
Even sketch the steps of a silly dance.&nbsp;
End the sackcloth season and give&nbsp;
Me gladness back in double draughts.
When the dirge days end,
When I am safe again,
I will not be silent.
My life will be my thanks forever.
&nbsp;

Psalm 30—No night tears can stop the birds and bells of dawn singing every morning

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/80de6d65-6781-4ba7-9bfd-b4840020856f/transcript

It took a long time,

But I found my quiet again.

I wrap it around me and wait for God alone.

He is my fastness, quick keep, faith’s fort,

My rest and release.

 

How many of my battered days

Slipped soundlessly to nothing?

How long was I a man of strings

Pushing through a hedge without end?

What did I do to deserve the ire

Of so many people I hardly know?

If I fall, will they rise?

Or will they just be rid of me

And free to swallow down

The loves I ceded and deck

Their brows like crowns

With the things I lost?

They open their mouths to smile

But only trouble tumbles out.

 

Stillness isn’t easy,

But it is all I have left.

So I will wait here

In silence

For God alone.

 

In the morning I come downstairs

While the house sleeps.

I make the coffee in the dark.

I pray and fret and watch

From the bay window as

God’s ghost moon tumbles through

What’s left  of the sky.

I ravel myself back. I breathe.

I watch the martins circle in the soft dawn.

I learn the first lesson again:

God is a refuge; rest in him.

 

My fears run in a small circle.

I weigh them and watch them rise

Like the smoke of my morning’s altar.

 

I have heard you, God,

Once or twice, but clear and true

And I am still ringing with it.

You seek the lost.

You guard the weak.

You bring everyone the harvest

Of their frantic days.

It took a long time,
But I found my quiet again.
I wrap it around me and wait for God alone.
He is my fastness, quick keep, faith&rsquo;s fort,
My rest and release.
&nbsp;
How many of my battered days
Slipped soundlessly to nothing?
How long was I a man of strings
Pushing through a hedge without end?
What did I do to deserve the ire
Of so many people I hardly know?
If I fall, will they rise?
Or will they just be rid of me
And free to swallow down
The loves I ceded and deck
Their brows like crowns
With the things I lost?
They open their mouths to smile
But only trouble tumbles out.
&nbsp;
Stillness isn&rsquo;t easy,
But it is all I have left.
So I will wait here
In silence
For God alone.
&nbsp;
In the morning I come downstairs
While the house sleeps.
I make the coffee in the dark.
I pray and fret and watch
From the bay window as
God&rsquo;s ghost moon tumbles through
What&rsquo;s left&nbsp; of the sky.
I ravel myself back. I breathe.
I watch the martins circle in the soft dawn.
I learn the first lesson again:
God is a refuge; rest in him.
&nbsp;
My fears run in a small circle.
I weigh them and watch them rise
Like the smoke of my morning&rsquo;s altar.
&nbsp;
I have heard you, God,
Once or twice, but clear and true
And I am still ringing with it.
You seek the lost.
You guard the weak.
You bring everyone the harvest
Of their frantic days.

Psalm 62—It took a long time, but I found my quiet again

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/c129114d-6fe7-4bfe-a615-b47a002d20ca/transcript

You laid long lines in the world, 

And trod out paths for our feet to follow.

You said, “This is the good way—walk in it.”

 

The one who gives away what she gained,

Will find a goodness that time won’t wear down,

Will find grace a sunbeam in the blank dark.

The one whose repentance 

Sears stripes in her failures,

Will find lies don’t last as long as they should.

The one who makes a bed of her own grave, 

Will wake in a new world, 

Blinking at the light.

 

But that is not the way I went.

I followed my own road home and 

Found fear waiting. I fell sick

And begged for healing that never came.

Anxieties buzzed like flies. I waved them away,

And they returned in the wake of my hand.

I was never good at hiding what I suffered.

I knew something was wrong,

But found the wrong names for it.

My head ached. I barely ate. I lost weight.

Friends I thought I had took my secrets

And set them where all could see.

They laid wagers on whether this was the end,

Or if I could last a little longer.

 

Lord, do you still delight in me

Though I found a life I never thought I’d lead?

Then wrap the slender thread

Of my prayer around your finger

And do not let my troubles win.

Take me in. Hold me fast. 

Give me back the dogged days I lost at last. 

You laid long lines in the world,&nbsp;
And trod out paths for our feet to follow.
You said, &ldquo;This is the good way&mdash;walk in it.&rdquo;
&nbsp;
The one who gives away what she gained,
Will find a goodness that time won&rsquo;t wear down,
Will find grace a sunbeam in the blank dark.
The one whose repentance&nbsp;
Sears stripes in her failures,
Will find lies don&rsquo;t last as long as they should.
The one who makes a bed of her own grave,&nbsp;
Will wake in a new world,&nbsp;
Blinking at the light.
&nbsp;
But that is not the way I went.
I followed my own road home and&nbsp;
Found fear waiting. I fell sick
And begged for healing that never came.
Anxieties buzzed like flies. I waved them away,
And they returned in the wake of my hand.
I was never good at hiding what I suffered.
I knew something was wrong,
But found the wrong names for it.
My head ached. I barely ate. I lost weight.
Friends I thought I had took my secrets
And set them where all could see.
They laid wagers on whether this was the end,
Or if I could last a little longer.
&nbsp;
Lord, do you still delight in me
Though I found a life I never thought I&rsquo;d lead?
Then wrap the slender thread
Of my prayer around your finger
And do not let my troubles win.
Take me in. Hold me fast.&nbsp;
Give me back the dogged days I lost at last.&nbsp;

Psalm 41—I followed my own road home and found fear waiting

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/d78a908c-16ba-4a6f-970c-b46d003bb430/transcript

The wicked man’s mind runs glad

With evil thoughts and he can’t sleep.

His heart tramps from wrong to wrong

In a dim parade, full of all the wrong fears.

He wonders why he would let this glamour go

Once he got it started. He spins traps

And hangs them in corners. Words tumble

Out of his mouth like black spiders.

He tells himself he’ll stand

Infinity on edge and flick it so it spins.

 

But there is another wisdom and no one

Has found the end of it. God’s love.

You can’t shake it. It is as solid

As a mountain and doesn’t rattle.

The clouds are not higher

Than the measure of God's love,

Nor the stars, nor the farthest

Flung distant folly of hope.

 

We can hide in it, feast on it,

Drink it in, dare gale darlings

Fledged under bright wings.

It is free for the taking every morning

As much as hand can hold or heart gather.

It is a light strung between stars in long lines,

Wide and white against the blank dark.

 

God, keep me in the slow lathe of your love.

Make my soul’s bones hone and spin.

Lift me up but lay low

And unlace every evil plan.

 

The wicked man&rsquo;s mind runs glad
With evil thoughts and he can&rsquo;t sleep.
His heart tramps from wrong to wrong
In a dim parade, full of all the wrong fears.
He wonders why he would let this glamour go
Once he got it started. He spins traps
And hangs them in corners. Words tumble
Out of his mouth like black spiders.
He tells himself he&rsquo;ll stand
Infinity on edge and flick it so it spins.
&nbsp;
But there is another wisdom and no one
Has found the end of it. God&rsquo;s love.
You can&rsquo;t shake it. It is as solid
As a mountain and doesn&rsquo;t rattle.
The clouds are not higher
Than the measure of God's love,
Nor the stars, nor the farthest
Flung distant folly of hope.
&nbsp;
We can hide in it, feast on it,
Drink it in, dare gale darlings
Fledged under bright wings.
It is free for the taking every morning
As much as hand can hold or heart gather.
It is a light strung between stars in long lines,
Wide and white against the blank dark.
&nbsp;
God, keep me in the slow lathe of your love.
Make my soul&rsquo;s bones hone and spin.
Lift me up but lay low
And unlace every evil plan.
&nbsp;

Psalm 36—The clouds are not higher than the measure of God's love, nor the stars, nor the farthest flung distant folly of hope.

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/ed9a1d6f-535b-4d57-9da0-b4620181965b/transcript

Psalm 47—Ring the words on your hollow heart’s bell.

Ring the words
On your hollow heart’s bell. 
Fling and strike the song 
To every corner: God is king.

The Lord layers his rule
Down on the lacerated land
In hoards, in heaves, in mountains, 
in downward drawing, heaven-heighted droves.
Everyone who listens lays their petty kingdom
At his feet in heaps, kneels and joins the knell,
Bright blows the bell, topples 
Their stricken selves and tips 
Their spiraling heights whole over.

God himself is lifted and struck,
And the whole earth resounds.
His unrolling trumpet blast at last
Sounds heaven down to ground.
Sing it back, take it up
Until everyone is wakened, 
Welcomed, greatened, circled 
Around his throne and shouting
Up to the vast, keening heights.
Then the dance begins.

Psalm 47&mdash;Ring the words on your hollow heart&rsquo;s bell.
Ring the words On your hollow heart&rsquo;s bell.&nbsp; Fling and strike the song&nbsp; To every corner: God is king.
The Lord layers his rule Down on the lacerated land In hoards, in heaves, in mountains,&nbsp; in downward drawing, heaven-heighted droves. Everyone who listens lays their petty kingdom At his feet in heaps, kneels and joins the knell, Bright blows the bell, topples&nbsp; Their stricken selves and tips&nbsp; Their spiraling heights whole over.
God himself is lifted and struck, And the whole earth resounds. His unrolling trumpet blast at last Sounds heaven down to ground. Sing it back, take it up Until everyone is wakened,&nbsp; Welcomed, greatened, circled&nbsp; Around his throne and shouting Up to the vast, keening heights. Then the dance begins.

Psalm 47—Ring the words on your hollow heart’s bell.

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/dbdf60b3-d984-43c4-bf57-b45a00fb5fea/transcript

Psalm 29—Everything in the wide home of the world flings Godward, crying, “Glory!”

God’s high heaven is choired 

With singers ringing back

Ranks of bright light in song.

Praise him!

 

His voice troubles over the sea,

And the waters writhe and surge.

The voice of God towers and crests

And rises up and up and up.

 

His voice topples tall empires like timber, 

And rattles proud cedars down.

The rock beneath my feet,

The ground I thought was steady,

Skipped and bucked like a calf 

When his clarion call sounded.

 

The voice of the Lord gouges flames of fire.

It shakes the weary wastes like a sheet.

The wind of his words

Strips the trees bare and everything

In the wide home of the world

Flings Godward, crying, “Glory!”

 

Though the sea and the world rage,

God is enthroned above the flood.

Lord, strengthen your people.

Lord, come be king and bring us peace!

Psalm 29&mdash;Everything in the wide home of the world flings Godward, crying, &ldquo;Glory!&rdquo;
God&rsquo;s high heaven is choired&nbsp;
With singers ringing back
Ranks of bright light in song.
Praise him!
&nbsp;
His voice troubles over the sea,
And the waters writhe and surge.
The voice of God towers and crests
And rises up and up and up.
&nbsp;
His voice topples tall empires like timber,&nbsp;
And rattles proud cedars down.
The rock beneath my feet,
The ground I thought was steady,
Skipped and bucked like a calf&nbsp;
When his clarion call sounded.
&nbsp;
The voice of the Lord gouges flames of fire.
It shakes the weary wastes like a sheet.
The wind of his words
Strips the trees bare and everything
In the wide home of the world
Flings Godward, crying, &ldquo;Glory!&rdquo;
&nbsp;
Though the sea and the world rage,
God is enthroned above the flood.
Lord, strengthen your people.
Lord, come be king and bring us peace!

Psalm 29—Everything in the wide home of the world flings Godward, crying, “Glory!”

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/d163745d-2713-45b3-8d9e-b452014b1f61/transcript

Listen to creative renditions of the Psalms.

Listen to creative renditions of the Psalms.

The Darkling Psalter

The Psalms were written to be sung, prayed, and heard. The Darkling Psalter presents original poetic reimaginings of the biblical Psalms by Andy Patton. These are not translations or paraphrases, but companion poems that seek to capture the movement, imagery, emotion, and theology of each psalm in fresh poetic language.

Each episode invites listeners to hear one of Scripture's oldest songs through a contemporary poetic imagination, offering a fresh way into lament, praise, confession, longing, and hope.

The Psalms were written to be sung, prayed, and heard. The Darkling Psalter presents original poetic reimaginings of the biblical Psalms by Andy Patton. These are not translations or paraphrases, but companion poems that seek to capture the movement, imagery, emotion, and theology of each psalm in fresh poetic language.
Each episode invites listeners to hear one of Scripture's oldest songs through a contemporary poetic imagination, offering a fresh way into lament, praise, confession, longing, and hope.

The Darkling Psalter

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