Psalm 22: Salvation of Epic Proportions

Come tune the psaltery and the lute,
Prepare your violin and flute,
Warm up your voice to sing my song,
Behold, God hears and rights all wrongs.

The dogs came out…
The sword’s edge keen…
Now lion’s mouth…
And bulls’ horns gleam…
Amidst this dreadful tortuous sea,
God was not far to rescue me.

The dogs He slew by His own hand,
The sword He shattered, ground to sand.
The lion’s fangs He broke and pulled,
He sawed the horns from off the bulls.

I cried, “Hosanna!” and He saved,
Not counting wounds or pain or grave.
He conquered all, including death,
So shall I praise till my last breath.

Arise you fyrds and carls, stand!
Rise regulars, militia bands!
You warriors of the Holy King,
Now praise the Lord! His glory sing!

Though we are putrid, slimed with sin,
The sin like sewage, starved and thin,
God won’t despise this filthy plight,
Of us: abhorrent gutter-snipes.

I’ll praise Him at the greatest feast,
Declaring in the crowded streets.
God teaches me what words to say,
That I might praise Him night and day.

The poor are given food to eat,
My God shall live eternally.
The ends of all the earth shall sing,
All ethnic groups will praise the King.

The mighty of the earth shall bow,
Like snakes to eat the dust of ground
From our posterity proceeds,
A declaration of His deeds.

Come tune your erhu and the pipes,
Prepare the sitar, timbrel, fifes.
A band of all ethnicities,
To praise the Three Eternities.


Exalt the God, with praise applaud
He is our Lord Creator,
So let us hear with Godly fear,
For we are all his debtors.

Let hoary ones, and sucklings young,
Let every are and gender,
Be all set free and to God flee,
To worship none to hinder.

Come hear the law, ye weak, ye braw,
With fasting and with weeping,
At this direct do not neglect,
To bring your child seeking.

Sing His praise, a great noise raise,
These babies each know how, and
Don’t let them go, for who would know,
But one could feed five thousand?

There is a place to separate,
With decency partition,
But do not bar and risk to mar
the spirit of God’s nation.

Would you exclude from heaven’s food,
The youth to fools’ assembly?
Such raucous groups to mocking stoop,
And bears look on unfriendly

The youthful kind and sober mind,
The blossom and the rose-hip
The toddle’s voice with age rejoice,
One symphony of worship.

Psalm 4: Joy

The world is full of wicked men
Who lie, dishonor, cheat, and steal.
Pray answer me, my God, again!
Hear, and heed my cry to heal!

These men give lawless sacrifice
They will not – can not – trust in You.
They will not heed the piteous cries,
They doubt in God, and good, and truth

Yet though this world is full of wrong,
I will merry tunes employ.
I will dance and sing sweet songs,
For God has filled my heart with joy.

And though the wicked harvest well,
Their joy is naught compared with mine.
I sleep in peace, and safely dwell,
For, Lord, thy blood has made me Thine.