Psalm 9–10

A David Psalm

^1–29I’m thanking you, God, from a full heart,

I’m writing the book on your wonders.

I’m whistling, laughing, and jumping for joy;

I’m singing your song, High God.

^3–4The 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.

^5–6You 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.

^7–8God 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.

^9–10God’s a safe-house for the battered,

a sanctuary during bad times.

The moment you arrive, you relax;

you’re never sorry you knocked.

^11–12Sing 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.

^13–14Be 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.

^15–16They’re trapped, those godless countries,

in the very snares they set,

Their feet all tangled

in the net they spread.

They have no excuse;

the way God works is well-known.

The cunning machinery made by the wicked

has maimed their own hands.

^17–20The wicked bought a one-way

ticket to hell.

No longer will the poor be nameless—

no more humiliation for the humble.

Up, God! Aren’t you fed up with their empty strutting?

Expose these grand pretensions!

Shake them up, God!

Show them how silly they look.

^1–210God, are you avoiding me?

Where are you when I need you?

Full of hot air, the wicked

are hot on the trail of the poor.

Trip them up, tangle them up

in their fine-tuned plots.

^3–4The wicked are windbags,

the swindlers have foul breath.

The wicked snub God,

their noses stuck high in the air.

Their graffiti are scrawled on the walls:

“Catch us if you can!” “God is dead.”

^5–6They care nothing for what you think;

if you get in their way, they blow you off.

They live (they think) a charmed life:

“We can’t go wrong. This is our lucky year!”

^7–8They carry a mouthful of hexes,

their tongues spit venom like adders.

They hide behind ordinary people,

then pounce on their victims.

⁹They mark the luckless,

then wait like a hunter in a blind;

When the poor wretch wanders too close,

they stab him in the back.

^10–11The hapless fool is kicked to the ground,

the unlucky victim is brutally axed.

He thinks God has dumped him,

he’s sure that God is indifferent to his plight.

^12–13Time to get up, God—get moving.

The luckless think they’re Godforsaken.

They wonder why the wicked scorn God

and get away with it,

Why the wicked are so cocksure

they’ll never come up for audit.

¹⁴But you know all about it—

the contempt, the abuse.

I dare to believe that the luckless

will get lucky someday in you.

You won’t let them down:

orphans won’t be orphans forever.

^15–16Break the wicked right arms,

break all the evil left arms.

Search and destroy

every sign of crime.

God’s grace and order wins;

godlessness loses.

^17–18The victim’s faint pulse picks up;

the hearts of the hopeless pump red blood

as you put your ear to their lips.

Orphans get parents,

the homeless get homes.

The reign of terror is over,

the rule of the gang lords is ended.