Psalm Nine

Intro:

To the Chief Musician; possible set for soprano voices. A Psalm of David.

A Song of Thanksgiving!

Lord, I give You thanks from a heart filled with gratitude ... it knows no bounds.

While I write a book of Your exploits, I am whistling, laughing, and jumping up and down for the pure joy that it brings. Lord, I sing all of Your songs of praise, from beginning to end. Then I start all over again.

Do You remember the day that my enemies decided to run away from the scene of their crimes? I do! They were running away, watching over their shoulders all the way. They were so busy looking behind themselves that they tripped over their own feet, falling right on their faces. Then You stepped in and set everything to rights once more.

You were there exactly when I needed you. You took charge and everything went exactly as You had planned.

Lord, You are the original '"whistle blower;"  You blow the whistle on the ungodly nations and throw their evil politicians - all dirty dealers and cheating players of all stripes - out of the game, removing their names from the official records. Your actions on the playing field encourages other enemies, that have been sitting in the grandstand watching, to pick up their seat cushions and leave in haste; their reputations in ruins and their names erased from their roll call of recognition ... removing them from their "hallowed halls of fame."

It is God alone, not Atlas, who balances the worlds in His hands. He put everything that is askew in the world back into it's proper place and position. He knows what is best for every thing and every body in His creation, and He gives them each just what they deserve.

My Lord, You are a safe haven for the broken, battered and bruised; a place of refuge especially set aside for when things, times, and people are evil and destructive. When I step within, I am finally able to relax. And I am always glad to be at home within this peaceful place of refuge.

I will sing songs of praise to You, oh Lord ... You who lives within my heart. I will tell all of the stories of Your marvelous works, all of Your awesome exploits, to everybody that I meet: how You track down and pass judgement on all evildoers, yet all the while You watch over every cry of pain and sigh of despair.

Oh Father, please treat me with Your loving-kindness, for I have been pushed around - kicked about - for far too long; but You pull me back from the edge of destruction, from the very brink of death. For this reason I will proclaim Your name, I will shout praises of You from the rooftops! I will give You thanks for Your saving grace.

Lord, look at the ungodly masses; those peoples who have sought their own paths, their own righteousness. They have set traps for the unsuspecting, snares for those they seek to rob; but they have tripped themselves up, they have been caught in their own webs of deceit. They know that there is no excuse for their destructive deeds; for Your ways are well known, Your exploits have been broadcast far and wide. Yet they continue making their evil designs, breaking their own fingers as they go.

Yet, all that choose to be wicked and evil have already purchased their one-way tickets to Hell.

But all of those who are poor will no longer be a nameless, faceless mass of humanity. No more will the humble in spirit be humiliated. For You, my Lord, have had enough, You will no longer allow this type events to proceed, the wicked have reached the end of Your ropes! For I see that you are sick and tired with all of the posturing of these evildoers. You are about to expose them and all of their "grand schemes." Stir up that hornet's nest, Lord, and let them see just how stupid it all is and how silly they really look!

Amen!