Page 71 - Your Extravagant Kindness

Psalm 38

Holy One, you are not wrathful as you correct me,
You don’t let fury determine my discipline.
Yet it is as if arrows have settled into me,
as if your hand were heavy upon me.

Mirrored in your indignation, I am disfigured,
There is no peace in my bones as I face my brokenness.
My head is full of distortions

These are too heavy a burden to bear.

I have been foolish
and my wounds fester, becoming foul.

I am prostrated.
All day long I wander around, mourning.
Searing pain grips my hips;

my body is unsound.
I am numb, utterly crushed,
I groan because my heart is anguished.

Holy One, my yearning is known to you,
None of my sighs is concealed from you.
My heart pulses erratically, my strength fails.

The light in my eyes has been extinguished.
Friends and companions now stand aloof,
far from my affliction.

My adversary lays snares, hoping to hurt me;

mumbling of ruin – and meditating on treachery.
It is as if I were deaf – I don’t hear,
as if I were mute, I cannot speak.

I am like one who does not hear,
In whose mouth there is no response.

I wait for you, my Guardian,

it is you, Holy One, my Godde, who will answer.
I pray, do not let my adversary, who gloats