A David Psalm, When He Escaped for His Life from Absalom, His Son 3 1God! Look! Enemies past counting! Enemies sprouting like mushrooms, 2Mobs of them all around me, roaring their mockery: “Hah! No help for him from God!” 3But you, God, shield me on all sides; You ground my feet, you lift my head high; 4With all my might I shout up to God, His answers thunder from the holy mountain. 5I stretch myself out. I sleep. Then I’m up again—rested, tall and steady, 6Fearless before the enemy mobs Coming at me from all sides. 7Up, God! My God, help me! Slap their faces, First this cheek, then the other, Your fist hard in their teeth! 8Real help comes from God. Your blessing clothes your people!
The Message® / © 2002 Eugene H. Peterson About