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Moff PSA Chapter 74

◄ PSA 74 ► ║ ═ ©

An Asaphite ode.

74 Why discard us, O God, for ever?

Why fume in anger at the flock of thine own pasture?

2 Remember the community thou didst win long ago,

whom thou didst rescue to be thine own people,

this hill of Sion, thine abode.

3 Turn thy steps toward the standing ruins,

to all the havoc of the foe within the sanctuary.

4 Thine enemies bawled inside thy house

set up their emblems there;

5 they smashed the doors down with their axes,

like woodmen felling trees,

6 then broke up all the carved work there

with hatchet and with hammer;

7 they set thy sanctuary ablaze,

laying it low, profaning thine own dwelling.

8 They said to themselves, “Let us root them out!”

so all the synagogues in the land they burned;

9 not an emblem of ours is to be seen.

No prophet now—none knows when this will end!

10 O God, how long is the foe to be scoffing?

Are the enemy always to blaspheme thee?

11 Why hold back thy hand, O God?

Stretch out they right hand and strike,

12 thou who art our King of old,

gaining victories on earth!

13 Thou didst divide the ocean by thy power,

Shattering the Dragon’s heads upon the waves,

14 crushing the heads of the Leviathan,

leaving him a prey to jackals.

15 Thou didst open springs and torrents,

thou didst dry up flowing streams;

16 thine is the day and thine the night,

thou hast provided sun and starlight;

17 thou hast arranged the earth in its due order,

thou hast made summer and winter.

18 Thou to be scoffed at by foes, O Eternal!

Thou for an impious race to blaspheme!

19 Leave not thy Dove Israel to a brutal power;

forget not thy poor people for all time.

20 Look at these creatures, so sleek and successful!—

every corner is full of their violence.

21 Let not the downtrodden turn from thee disappointed,

but may the weak and wretched have good cause to praise thee!

22 Up, O God, to vindicate the cause that is thine own!

Remember how the impious scoff at thee all the day long;

23 forget not the loud clamour of thy foes,

the endless din that rises from thine enemies.