Psalm
77 Wednesday Moring 2
God of gods, I cry * with a pleading voice!
God of gods, listen, * to my pleading voice!
When I implore my God, * and seek my Lord,
his hand attacks at night * and does not slacken; * his mind
refuses to relent.
I think of God, and it makes me groan. * I say words, but my
spirit fails.
My eyes are used to vigils; * I walk about and do not lie
down.
I consider the days of old; * I remember the years long
past.
Through the night I play the lyre; * I talk with my heart
* how my spirit might be healed.
Will the Lord be angry forever, * and no longer show
favor again?
Has his kindness ceased forever? * will visions from
him come no more?
Have God's entrails dried up? * or his womb shrunk
up in anger?
I thought, “His sickness is this: * the right hand
of the Most High has withered.”
I will recite your godly deeds; * yes, I will recite
your marvels of old.
I will number all your works, * and speak of your
mighty deeds.
God, you rule over the holy deities; * God, what god is
greater than you?
Come, God, worker of miracles; * show your strength among
the peoples.
Redeem with your powerful arm * the sons of Jacob and
Joseph.
When the waters saw you, God, * when the waters saw you, they
trembled; * even the depths shook with fear.
The clouds burst with water; * the sky echoed your voice; *
your arrows shot back and forth.
Your thunder sounded in the
sky-dome; * your lightning bolts lit up the world; * the underworld quaked and
shook.
Your route was over the sea; * your robe trained over the
heavenly ocean; * so your heels could not be seen.
Lead your people like sheep,
* by the hand of a Moses and an Aaron.