 

 

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;

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 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