Psalm 26—I Have Laughed Loud and Late with Them When Their Razor Words Were the Only Jokes Around.

 

God, mark me. Try me.

I have wagered with you and wavered.

Prove me against the whetted edge 

Of your unfailing love. 

 

I have cast my lot with yours,

Yet kept the company of villains

When they were the only friends I knew.

I have laughed loud and late with them

When their razor words were the only jokes around. 

I have washed my hands in innocence,

But it never seemed enough.

I circled your altar seven times,

Waiting to see more than stone,

Watching for a fire I couldn’t explain.

 

I don’t know how I made it out, except

I held a hope time could not beat level.

There was always a mission bell, 

A beacon on my bow, a faith sheer off,

A homing flame, a flare, a beam

For my waning way.

I have wanted to be with you

Out of the world wind,

To live where you live.

I have wanted someone to say:

Come home, come back,

All is forgiven.

 

So don’t leave me here like a spit pip.

Show me your consolations—

One for every year that went wrong.

Stand me in your grace on level ground. 

Touch the holy coal to my lips.

And let me feel the firekiss.

When the starlong stride of your light arrives,

I will promise myself to it

Until the promise takes.

Lift my life toward the sunless city.

Show me the fire, my pillaring God.

Let me feel the warmth on my face.

Psalm 26&mdash;I Have Laughed Loud and Late with Them When Their Razor Words Were the Only Jokes Around.
&nbsp;
God, mark me. Try me.
I have wagered with you and wavered.
Prove me against the whetted edge&nbsp;
Of your unfailing love.&nbsp;
&nbsp;
I have cast my lot with yours,
Yet kept the company of villains
When they were the only friends I knew.
I have laughed loud and late with them
When their razor words were the only jokes around.&nbsp;
I have washed my hands in innocence,
But it never seemed enough.
I circled your altar seven times,
Waiting to see more than stone,
Watching for a fire I couldn&rsquo;t explain.
&nbsp;
I don&rsquo;t know how I made it out, except
I held a hope time could not beat level.
There was always a mission bell,&nbsp;
A beacon on my bow, a faith sheer off,
A homing flame, a flare, a beam
For my waning way.
I have wanted to be with you
Out of the world wind,
To live where you live.
I have wanted someone to say:
Come home, come back,
All is forgiven.
&nbsp;
So don&rsquo;t leave me here like a spit pip.
Show me your consolations&mdash;
One for every year that went wrong.
Stand me in your grace on level ground.&nbsp;
Touch the holy coal to my lips.
And let me feel the firekiss.
When the starlong stride of your light arrives,
I will promise myself to it
Until the promise takes.
Lift my life toward the sunless city.
Show me the fire, my pillaring God.
Let me feel the warmth on my face.

Psalm 26—I Have Laughed Loud and Late with Them When Their Razor Words Were the Only Jokes Around.

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/309febbf-cff4-44c1-93e6-b4ec011b4c6b/transcript

The earth and all its fullness is the Lord’s:

The landed pillars of the deep,

The thrumming, captured seas,

The rivers rising from the holy ground—

Are all still his.

 

Who can find a home on your mountain?

Who can stand inside your holy place

With head high and a whole heart?

The one who held the coal and felt the firekiss;

Who greets God in every lesser love;

Who hoped her way through long years,

Black and bird-boned as the limbs of winter.

Whose laugh broke in rich beams,

Loud and wild as it would.

 

Lift up every last lost gate.

Open every angel-hemmed door.

The king of glory is coming in,

The resurrected world in step behind him.

The earth and all its fullness is the Lord&rsquo;s:
The landed pillars of the deep,
The thrumming, captured seas,
The rivers rising from the holy ground&mdash;
Are all still his.
&nbsp;
Who can find a home on your mountain?
Who can stand inside your holy place
With head high and a whole heart?
The one who held the coal and felt the firekiss;
Who greets God in every lesser love;
Who hoped her way through long years,
Black and bird-boned as the limbs of winter.
Whose laugh broke in rich beams,
Loud and wild as it would.
&nbsp;
Lift up every last lost gate.
Open every angel-hemmed door.
The king of glory is coming in,
The resurrected world in step behind him.

Psalm 24—Who Hoped Her Way Through Long Years, Black and Bird-Boned as the Limbs of Winter

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/9d31d493-39b8-4353-baa3-b4e8001cba62/transcript

Lord, I am on the run.

This has all gone farther 

Than I could have imagined.

I’m in the wind. 

I have seen what hunts my trail

And crouches at my door

And it scares me.

If my enemies have their way,

They’ll swallow me whole.

 

I am not innocent.

I have repaid evil for good.

I have brooded thoughts

That hatched like vipers.

I have heard the song of revenge

And have added my own voice.

If my enemies are right and I am wrong,

Lay me low, overthrow me. 

 

I feel your anger churn against me

And my pursuers alike,

But do not let me fall into their hands.

You are the only just judge.

You will make no mistake,

And nothing will take you by surprise.

You have appointed a day 

To gather us to yourself.

On that day, remember 

When I walked with you.

Bring evil to an end,

But make every tender shoot 

Of goodness burst to blossom.

Make our weary, waning days

Into a refiner’s fire,

Just as silver meets itself at last

Before the dross is lifted.

 

You know how to save the righteous,

And you know how to lay low the wicked.

Your weapons are ready to hand;

You won’t let evil go unchecked, unmarked.

You’ll whistle its own works 

Back to hound it down. 

 

When you are lifted up,

Where will the judgment fall?

When you have the final word,

What will you say?

Lord, I am on the run.
This has all gone farther&nbsp;
Than I could have imagined.
I&rsquo;m in the wind.&nbsp;
I have seen what hunts my trail
And crouches at my door
And it scares me.
If my enemies have their&nbsp;way,
They&rsquo;ll swallow me whole.
&nbsp;
I am not innocent.
I have repaid evil for good.
I have brooded thoughts
That hatched like vipers.
I have heard the song of revenge
And have added my own voice.
If my enemies are right and I am wrong,
Lay me low, overthrow me.&nbsp;
&nbsp;
I feel your anger churn against me
And my pursuers alike,
But do not let me fall into their hands.
You are the only just judge.
You will make no mistake,
And nothing will take you by surprise.
You have appointed a day&nbsp;
To gather us to yourself.
On that day, remember&nbsp;
When I walked with you.
Bring evil to an end,
But make every tender shoot&nbsp;
Of goodness burst to blossom.
Make our weary, waning days
Into a refiner&rsquo;s fire,
Just as silver meets itself at last
Before the dross is lifted.
&nbsp;
You know how to save the righteous,
And you know how to lay low the wicked.
Your weapons are ready to hand;
You won&rsquo;t let evil go unchecked, unmarked.
You&rsquo;ll whistle its own works&nbsp;
Back to hound it down.&nbsp;
&nbsp;
When you are lifted up,
Where will the judgment fall?
When you have the final word,
What will you say?

Psalm 7—Make Our Weary, Waning Days Into a Refiner’s Fire

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/f594cc2f-6e5e-4ced-a73c-b4cb00ed8859/transcript

Lord, you made a king from clay,

And set a crown upon his head.

Before a need was on his lips,

You knew it. He asked for life, 

And you lengthened his days.

You breached the levee of your love

And your ways flooded through him.

He became a hollow hand, 

raised and waiting, and you filled it.

He became a mirror,

And you tipped him toward your light.

Blessing ran over his palms like water;

He scooped it up and drank.

 

But your hand will let the wicked reach

Only so far before you catch them out.

They seem strong as stone,

But they’re stubble

That blackens and blows away

When your wrath erupts around them.

Their mighty plans have brittle seams.

They storm forward beneath bright banners,

Never to return. Their hands hold

The engines of power.

They launch volleys

That black out the sun,

But their arrows bend back

To land around their own feet.

 

Lord, you lift up those 

Who raise their hands in need to you,

And humble those who stretch 

Their strength to strike and rend.

In the end, every mouth will open in praise

Or shut in awe and fear

When your justice comes

And the day draws near.

Lord, you made a king from clay,
And set a crown upon his head.
Before a need was on his lips,
You knew it. He asked for life,&nbsp;
And you lengthened his days.
You breached the levee of your love
And your ways flooded through him.
He became a hollow hand,&nbsp;
raised and waiting, and you filled it.
He became a mirror,
And you tipped him toward your light.
Blessing ran over his palms like water;
He scooped it up and drank.
&nbsp;
But your hand will let the wicked reach
Only so far before you catch them out.
They seem strong as stone,
But they&rsquo;re stubble
That blackens and blows away
When your wrath erupts around them.
Their mighty plans have brittle seams.
They storm forward beneath bright banners,
Never to return. Their hands hold
The engines of power.
They launch volleys
That black out the sun,
But their arrows bend back
To land around their own feet.
&nbsp;
Lord, you lift up those&nbsp;
Who raise their hands in need to you,
And humble those who stretch&nbsp;
Their strength to strike and rend.
In the end, every mouth will open in praise
Or shut in awe and fear
When your justice comes
And the day draws near.

Psalm 21—Their Mighty Plans Have Brittle Seams

https://api.omny.fm/orgs/d699cc26-51ff-4875-9bdb-aa4e006494dd/clips/8563a724-132e-4ef6-ba36-b4c500173588/transcript

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

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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