Psalm 88

Sarah_Trumbull_on_Her_Deathbed_by_John_Trumbull_1824Day and night, O Lord my God, I cry out in my grief
Please hear my prayer, incline Your ear, when will You send relief?

Behold how many troubles, Lord, my soul has had to bear
I feel the pangs of death draw near, it leads me to despair.

“It is too late,” I hear them say, “she’s on the brink of death”
As good as dead, I’m all alone and wait my final breath.

O God, this sickness is from You, You’ve laid me in this pit
I lay in darkness ‘neath Your wrath, afflictions You permit.

Even my friends abandoned me, they cannot bear to see
Shut up alone I waste away and lift my hands to Thee.

I’ve called upon You every day, O Lord when will You save?
What praise or glory can You get once I am in the grave?

Do dead perceive Your wondrous works or spirits rise to praise?
Can one declare Your faithfulness who in Abaddon lays?

Time and again I’ve cried for help, You’ve heard my morning prayer
Why do You hide Your face from me, reject, refuse to care?

E’en from my youth I’ve suffered thus, terrors like waters flow
You’ve caused my loved ones to depart, darkness is all I know.

© 2014 J Dan Small

Psalm 49

Now hear this, all you who dwell on earth
Rich or poor, regardless of your worth
I’ve wisdom to impart,
a proverb you should hear
I’ll play it on my harp
Life’s riddles will be clear.

Why should I in days of trouble fear
Even when my foes around appear?
They trust in all their wealth
And boast prosperity
But they can’t buy good health
Or perpetuity.

CemeteryDeath will come to wise and fool and brute
Shared destiny –the stupid and astute.
Their wealth is left behind
As hard as they may try
In due time they all find
It is their turn to die.

All earth’s gold could ne’er a soul redeem
Nor would God a ransom equal deem
They perish just like beasts
Their bodies waste away
The greatest to the least
No more see light of day.

When that day comes my soul, my God will save
He’ll take me Home, not leave me in the grave
That’s why we must not fret
When wealthy folks are praised
In spite of all they get
In dust their glory lays.

© 2014 J Dan Small