To the chief Musician—a Psalm of David
O Lord, why stand far off, why there you abide? In times of my trouble yourself do you hide?
In pride have the wicked the poor swiftly sought: In their own devices let them now be caught.
The wicked is boasting of his heart’s reward, The greedy he blesses, those spurned of the Lord.
The wicked, through pride that is shown on his face, Will not seek for God, in his thoughts has no place.
His ways are all grievous; beyond sight, Your court: And as for his foes, now, at them he does snort.
So he in his heart said, “I shall not be moved: I’ll not be in trouble, not ever reproved.”
His mouth full of curses and fraud and deceit: There’s mischief and evil; his tongue is its seat.
He sits in an ambush the town’s secret place; The innocent murders, his eyes the poor case.
He lies in wait hidden a lion in his lair: The poor with his net waits to catch unaware.
He crouches and bows down himself waiting for, His strong ones he uses to cast down the poor.
For in his heart said he, this God will ignore: He never will see it; his face come before.
Arise, Oh Lord; Oh God, and lift up your hand: Forget not the humble; not this obscure band.
And why do the wicked against God conspire? For in his heart he’s said, “You will not require.”
For you’ve seen and notice the mischief and spite, For you have beheld it; with your hand requite.
And so the unfortunate commits to thee; For you are the helper; of orphans you see.
So you break the arm of the wicked, bad one; And seek out his evil until you’ve found none.
The Lord he is King now forever, always; The heathen from his land have perished, gone away.
The humble’s desire, Oh Lord you will hear; Their heart you will strengthen, to them turn your ear.
To vindicate orphans, to judge the oppressed, The man of the earth he may no more oppress.