Revised Common Lectionary (Complementary)

^3-4 The day my enemies turned tail and ran,
    they stumbled on you and fell on their faces.
You took over and set everything right;
    when I needed you, you were there, taking charge.

^5-6 You blow the whistle on godless nations;
    you throw dirty players out of the game,
    wipe their names right off the roster.
Enemies disappear from the sidelines,
    their reputation trashed,
    their names erased from the halls of fame.

^7-8 God holds the high center,
    he sees and sets the world’s mess right.
He decides what is right for us earthlings,
    gives people their just deserts.

^9-10 God’s a safe-house for the battered,
    a sanctuary during bad times.
The moment you arrive, you relax;
    you’re never sorry you knocked.

^11-12 Sing your songs to Zion-dwelling God,
    tell his stories to everyone you meet:
How he tracks down killers
    yet keeps his eye on us,
    registers every whimper and moan.

^13-14 Be kind to me, God;
    I’ve been kicked around long enough.
Once you’ve pulled me back
    from the gates of death,
I’ll write the book on Hallelujahs;
    on the corner of Main and First
    I’ll hold a street meeting;
I’ll be the song leader; we’ll fill the air
    with salvation songs.

^6-14 “When I speak up, I feel no better;
    if I say nothing, that doesn’t help either.
I feel worn down.
    God, you have wasted me totally—me and my family!
You’ve shriveled me like a dried prune,
    showing the world that you’re against me.
My gaunt face stares back at me from the mirror,
    a mute witness to your treatment of me.
Your anger tears at me,
    your teeth rip me to shreds,
    your eyes burn holes in me—God, my enemy!
People take one look at me and gasp.
    Contemptuous, they slap me around
    and gang up against me.
And God just stands there and lets them do it,
    lets wicked people do what they want with me.
I was contentedly minding my business when God beat me up.
    He grabbed me by the neck and threw me around.
He set me up as his target,
    then rounded up archers to shoot at me.
Merciless, they shot me full of arrows;
    bitter bile poured from my gut to the ground.
He burst in on me, onslaught after onslaught,
    charging me like a mad bull.

^15-17 “I sewed myself a shroud and wore it like a shirt;
    I lay facedown in the dirt.
Now my face is blotched red from weeping;
    look at the dark shadows under my eyes,
Even though I’ve never hurt a soul
    and my prayers are sincere!

“Only a few years are left
    before I set out on the road of no return.”