Book of Common Prayer

⁴ Let those on the hunt for you
    sing and celebrate.
Let all who love your saving way
    say over and over, “God is mighty!”

⁵ But I’ve lost it. I’m wasted.
    God—quickly, quickly!
Quick to my side, quick to my rescue!
    God, don’t lose a minute.
71 ^1-3 I run for dear life to God,
    I’ll never live to regret it.
Do what you do so well:
    get me out of this mess and up on my feet.
Put your ear to the ground and listen,
    give me space for salvation.
Be a guest room where I can retreat;
    you said your door was always open!
You’re my salvation—my vast, granite fortress.

^4-7 My God, free me from the grip of Wicked,
    from the clutch of Bad and Bully.
You keep me going when times are tough—
    my bedrock, God, since my childhood.
I’ve hung on you from the day of my birth,
    the day you took me from the cradle;
    I’ll never run out of praise.
Many gasp in alarm when they see me,
    but you take me in stride.

^8-11 Just as each day brims with your beauty,
    my mouth brims with praise.
But don’t turn me out to pasture when I’m old
    or put me on the shelf when I can’t pull my weight.
My enemies are talking behind my back,
    watching for their chance to knife me.
The gossip is: “God has abandoned him.
    Pounce on him now; no one will help him.”

^12-16 God, don’t just watch from the sidelines.
    Come on! Run to my side!
My accusers—make them lose face.
    Those out to get me—make them look
Like idiots, while I stretch out, reaching for you,
    and daily add praise to praise.
I’ll write the book on your righteousness,
    talk up your salvation all the day long,
    never run out of good things to write or say.
I come in the power of the Lord God,
    I post signs marking his right-of-way.

^17-24 You got me when I was an unformed youth,
    God, and taught me everything I know.
Now I’m telling the world your wonders;
    I’ll keep at it until I’m old and gray.
God, don’t walk off and leave me
    until I get out the news
Of your strong right arm to this world,
    news of your power to the world yet to come,
Your famous and righteous
    ways, O God.
God, you’ve done it all!
    Who is quite like you?
You, who made me stare trouble in the face,
    Turn me around;
Now let me look life in the face.
    I’ve been to the bottom;
Bring me up, streaming with honors;
    turn to me, be tender to me,
And I’ll take up the lute and thank you
    to the tune of your faithfulness, God.
I’ll make music for you on a harp,
    Holy One of Israel.
When I open up in song to you,
    I let out lungsful of praise,
    my rescued life a song.
All day long I’m chanting
    about you and your righteous ways,
While those who tried to do me in
    slink off looking ashamed.

^2-3 Refresh your memory of us—you bought us a long time ago.
    Your most precious tribe—you paid a good price for us!
    Your very own Mount Zion—you actually lived here once!
Come and visit the site of disaster,
    see how they’ve wrecked the sanctuary.

^4-8 While your people were at worship, your enemies barged in,
    brawling and scrawling graffiti.
They set fire to the porch;
    axes swinging, they chopped up the woodwork,
Beat down the doors with sledgehammers,
    then split them into kindling.
They burned your holy place to the ground,
    violated the place of worship.
They said to themselves, “We’ll wipe them all out,”
    and burned down all the places of worship.

^9-17 There’s not a sign or symbol of God in sight,
    nor anyone to speak in his name,
    no one who knows what’s going on.
How long, God, will barbarians blaspheme,
    enemies curse and get by with it?
Why don’t you do something? How long are you going
    to sit there with your hands folded in your lap?
God is my King from the very start;
    he works salvation in the womb of the earth.
With one blow you split the sea in two,
    you made mincemeat of the dragon Tannin.
You lopped off the heads of Leviathan,
    then served them up in a stew for the animals.
With your finger you opened up springs and creeks,
    and dried up the wild floodwaters.
You own the day, you own the night;
    you put stars and sun in place.
You laid out the four corners of earth,
    shaped the seasons of summer and winter.

^18-21 Mark and remember, God, all the enemy
    taunts, each idiot desecration.
Don’t throw your lambs to the wolves;
    after all we’ve been through, don’t forget us.
Remember your promises;
    the city is in darkness, the countryside violent.
Don’t leave the victims to rot in the street;
    make them a choir that sings your praises.

^22-23 On your feet, O God—
    stand up for yourself!
Do you hear what they’re saying about you,
    all the vile obscenities?
Don’t tune out their malicious filth,
    the brawling invective that never lets up.

² Don’t hoard your goods; spread them around.
Be a blessing to others. This could be your last night.

^3-4 When the clouds are full of water, it rains.
When the wind blows down a tree, it lies where it falls.
Don’t sit there watching the wind. Do your own work.
Don’t stare at the clouds. Get on with your life.

⁵ Just as you’ll never understand
    the mystery of life forming in a pregnant woman,
So you’ll never understand
    the mystery at work in all that God does.

⁶ Go to work in the morning
    and stick to it until evening without watching the clock.
You never know from moment to moment
    how your work will turn out in the end.