Psalm 3

Heralds of Ungrace

Father,

why is it that the closer I get to You,

the more my enemies multiply?

I am surrounded by a cloud of wicked witnesses—

scorners of wisdom;

heralds of ungrace.

But Your presence enfolds me,

shielding me from their poison tongues.

My eyes rise to meet Your gaze:

Delight of my Heart.

Lover of my Soul.

My words do not fall on deaf ears.

From broken whisper to deafening wail,

You hear me,

and from infinite realms of glory,

You stoop to reply.

As darkness descends,

I drift off to peaceful slumber,

safe in the arms of grace.

And when I wake,

I rise with new strength.

The voices rattle on,

but their words have lost their hold on me.

Rise, Lord!

Lift me from their reach!

Scatter their crooked chorus!

Shatter the jaws that utter lies!

You are the Way,

the Truth,

the Life,

and all who love You are rightly called

the Beloved of God.