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.

 

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