1–2  9 I’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.

3–4  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.