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MOF PSA Chapter 55

PSA 55 ©

From the Choirmaster’s collection. To a string accompaniment. An ode of David.

55Listen to my prayer, O God,

hide not from my entreaty;

2heed me and answer

my bitter lament,

as I moan at the noise of the foe,

at the shouts of godless men,

3who overwhelm me with their injuries,

setting upon me furiously.

4My heart is throbbing in my breast,

and anguish overpowers me,

5terror and trembling seize on me,

and horror folds me round.

6Oh for the wings of a dove

to fly away and be at rest!

7Fain would I fly from it all

and live in the desert;

8swiftly would I escape

from the furious blast,

from all their storm and confusion,

9from their double tongues.

For here in the city I suffer the sight

of violence and disorder

10patrolling day and night

the very walls;

11mischief and misery are what I see,

and corruption, in the street;

the market-place is never free

from fraud and guile.


12It is not taunts of a foe—

that I could bear;

it is not an enemy’s insolence—

then I could hide from him.

13No, you are an equal of my own,

my close companion and my trusted friend!

14Sweet was our fellowship together

within the house of God.

15May he go to perdition!

Death seize all such!

May they go living to the world below,

swept off as their sins deserve!

20For he laid hands upon his friends,

profaning friendship’s bond;

21his talk was smoother than butter,

but his thoughts were of enmity;

his words were softer than oil,

yet sharp as a sword.


16But as for me, I call to God,

and the Eternal helps me;

17evening, morning, and at noon,

I moan and wail.

He will hear my cry and give me

peace and freedom from this strife,

from the host of foes around me.

19God will hear me,

God upon his ancient throne;

he will lay them low,

lax, lawless creatures,

with no reverence for God.

23Thou wilt toss them into the grave,

these murderers and liars;

they shall not live out half their days,

but I will trust in thee.

22Leave all to the Eternal, who loves you;

never will he let good men come to grief.

PSA 55 ©

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