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.

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.

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