A David Psalm 55 1Open your ears, God, to my prayer; don’t pretend you don’t hear me knocking. 2Come close and whisper your answer. I really need you. 3I shudder at the mean voice, quail before the evil eye, As they pile on the guilt, stockpile angry slander. 4My insides are turned inside out; specters of death have me down. 5I shake with fear, I shudder from head to foot. 6“Who will give me wings,” I ask— “wings like a dove?” Get me out of here on dove wings; 7I want some peace and quiet. I want a walk in the country, 8I want a cabin in the woods. I’m desperate for a change from rage and stormy weather. 9Come down hard, Lord—slit their tongues. I’m appalled how they’ve split the city Into rival gangs prowling the alleys 10Day and night spoiling for a fight, trash piled in the streets, 11Even shopkeepers gouging and cheating in broad daylight. 12This isn’t the neighborhood bully mocking me—I could take that. This isn’t a foreign devil spitting invective—I could tune that out. 13It’s you! We grew up together! You! My best friend! 14Those long hours of leisure as we walked arm in arm, God a third party to our conversation. 15Haul my betrayers off alive to hell—let them experience the horror, let them feel every desolate detail of a damned life. 16I call to God; God will help me. 17At dusk, dawn, and noon I sigh deep sighs—he hears, he rescues. 18My life is well and whole, secure in the middle of danger Even while thousands are lined up against me. 19God hears it all, and from his judge’s bench puts them in their place. But, set in their ways, they won’t change; they pay him no mind. 20And this, my best friend, betrayed his best friends; his life betrayed his word. 21All my life I’ve been charmed by his speech, never dreaming he’d turn on me. His words, which were music to my ears, turned to daggers in my heart. 22Pile your troubles on God’s shoulders— he’ll carry your load, he’ll help you out. He’ll never let good people topple into ruin. 23But you, God, will throw the others into a muddy bog, Cut the lifespan of assassins and traitors in half. And I trust in you.
The Message® / © 2002 Eugene H. Peterson About