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.

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 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

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

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