Lord, you’re an-gry. I know why. From my pain you hear my cry.
By your hand I suffer now. For my sin your hand came down.
This, a burden hard to bear, but it’s my own fault, I swear.
Tall i stood, and thought self sleek. Now I’m wounded and I reek.
These, the fruits of my desire: Heartburn, hemorrhoids and fire.
Utterly both spent and crushed, very soon I’ll bite the dust.
Nothing has been hid from you: sinning, sighing, longing too.
Strength has failed me, light is gone. Former friends look on in scorn.
Enemies have set out snares. No one helps me. No one cares.
I can’t hear and I can’t speak. Even gesture. I’m too weak.
Take me soon, Lord. Come in haste. I can’t take another day.
On my way some folks I’ll curse. “Yes, I sinned, but y’all are worse.”
Photo by Max Oh at Unsplash.com
Source: Psalm 38
Text: © David Alexander, 2020
Tune: BÀK-SA(木柵) 184.108.40.206
Score: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-s4LsTk-uq0 (turn off audio)