Now drunks and gluttons Make up drinking songs about me.

Suddenly the Lord was up on his feet like someone roused from deep sleep, shouting like a drunken warrior. He hit his enemies hard, sent them running, yelping, not daring to look back. He disqualified Joseph as leader, told Ephraim he didn’t have what it takes, And chose the Tribe of Judah instead, Mount Zion, which he loves so much. He built his sanctuary there, resplendent, solid and lasting as the earth itself. Then he chose David, his servant, handpicked him from his work in the sheep pens. One day he was caring for the ewes and their lambs, the next day God had him shepherding Jacob, his people Israel, his prize possession. His good heart made him a good shepherd; he guided the people wisely and well.

Some of you set sail in big ships; you put to sea to do business in faraway ports. Out at sea you saw God in action, saw his breathtaking ways with the ocean: With a word he called up the wind— an ocean storm, towering waves! You shot high in the sky, then the bottom dropped out; your hearts were stuck in your throats. You were spun like a top, you reeled like a drunk, you didn’t know which end was up. Then you called out to God in your desperate condition; he got you out in the nick of time. He quieted the wind down to a whisper, put a muzzle on all the big waves. And you were so glad when the storm died down, and he led you safely back to harbor. So thank God for his marvelous love, for his miracle mercy to the children he loves. Lift high your praises when the people assemble, shout Hallelujah when the elders meet!