Psalm 1

River Tree

Lord,

Your presence is life to me:

joy of my heart;

strength of my soul.

Grant me the grace to walk in Your ways;

to cherish Your friendship

over the fellowship of the fallen,

soul-shaped

as I am by the company I keep—

pressed and formed,

for good or for ill.

I refuse to march with those who mock Your mercy;

who revel in the unraveling of sacred things.

They stumble down trackless wastes,

training others in the ways of their wandering.

But You will be my delight, Lord;

Your Word, my mirth and meal—

and I like an oak,

drawing strength from fertile soil,

growing in grace,

safe in the circumference of Your mercy.

So I will flourish,

a river tree drinking from the deep—

fruit heavy on my branches;

leaves thrumming with life.

Though seasons shift around me,

I will stand.

The godless are lifeless:

withered stalks,

bent by the wind;

such are those who shun Your mercy.

They forfeit seats at Your table,

refusing Your wedding garments;

choosing nakedness over grace.

I won’t be counted among them—

not while Your River rushes for my good.

Lead me, Lord,

strength upon strength,

that at the end of my days, I may look back

and wonder at the manifold mercy of God.