David's Crown: Sounding the Psalms

by Malcolm Guite

Psalm 6: VI Domine, ne in furore

Unless you come, and write it in my heart, Unless you help me read it through my tears And hear me out, and, hearing, heal my hurt.

Until I recognise his face at last I’ll trust him in the dark and carry on,

Psalm 15: XV Domine, quis habitabit?

Psalm 28: XXVIII Ad te, Domine

That stirs our sleeping conscience and recalls Us to the love we had abandoned, leads Us through the parting mists of doubt,

Psalm 30: XXX Exaltabo te, Domine

So much the more because we were brought low That we might know we have a God who raises Up the lowly.

But sudden loss and crisis made us know Our true dependence on your love.

Restore us in your love and we will tell Of how through our long night we heard your warning And heeded you, and found your love again, How night withdrew and joy came in the morning.

Psalm 31: XXXI In te, Domine, speravi

The night withdrew and joy came in the morning, When I remembered that I was remembered, That even through the bitter tears of mourning I was sustained.

I was held together and re-membered By your unceasing love.

When there was fear on every side, you stole Into the secret garden of my heart, A good thief in the night, and hid with me In your strong tabernacle,

How painfully my heart might have been riven By hidden memories and secret shame. Instead you blessed me with a new beginning,

Let us leave judgement to your tender mercy

That we might put our utter trust in you

Till then I’ll be content with each small thing Your love provides, and let the rich contend With one another for their fading wealth, For I have found my God and my true friend.

The simple call of Love: Oh come to me! Bring me no gifts, for I have made them all, Just bring yourself, and open up your heart.’ And so I come to you and bring you all, All that I am and have been: joy and hurt, Glory and shame. I bring you everything, That you might make me whole in every part.

So I thirst For living streams, not for the dusty books They write about you, nor the empty words That ring from pulpits, nor the haughty looks Of those who market you.

Oh Jesus, show Me once again the path out of my sadness And set my steps back on your holy hill.

And so in Christ shall all be made alive And still we live as if we have forgotten.

For now your soul Is his true Sion, and each day you rise Already in the city of your God.

sempiternal

let Christ clean Your soul once more, erasing every stain Washing you thoroughly. For he has seen What you confess and what you hide.

Be rooted once again in the rich soil Of his deep love, and know that none can sever, No power on earth can ever separate You from the steadfast love of Christ your saviour.

Deliver us again, remove the veil, The thin familiar film that covers wonder,

Help me forgive The bitter wounds of personal betrayal.

And rest awhile in you and be at peace Assured once more that goodness will prevail.

Take up my part in the unfinished tale Of Jesus’ risen life, once more renew My little role within the coming kingdom. And though I am afraid, Lord, keep me true, Keep me from giving in, and from the thraldom Of all this present darkness, from its slave Mentality and weariness.

So fix our hearts upon the joys that last, That even though we walk amidst the fire, Where threats and taunts and curses are still cast To drag us down, instead we will rise higher In your great mercy, lifted into heaven, The mountain country of the heart’s desire, The country where our sins are all forgiven.

Though here I’m mourning, Already in your kingdom my heart dances, And even here I’ll sing, for day is dawning.

come and repair The ruin of my efforts to do well, The breach between my practice and my prayer.

Deliver me, O Lord, and show me your Patience and your mercy, set me free Not from the sins of others, or the score I sometimes keep of their iniquity, But from my own deep-seated faults and flaws, From my false self, O Lord, deliver me.

All the sad And sighing tribes of earth hold up their hands: Hear us, we cry, and once more, make us glad.

Oh lift us up and set us on the rock, On something higher than our wavering will, And free us from the traps of time: the clock That counts us down to nothing, the false hope, The game-plan and trajectory, the lock That closes out your grace.

For love lifts time into eternity.

The barren wasteland is made glorious With blossoms, breathing an eternal spring And even as this first world fades from us, We step into the true world and we sing A joyful song, for there at last we see Our heart’s desire: our risen Lord and King.

And soon the arrows pierce us; we retreat From our first faith, we veer and compromise, Despair of progress and accept defeat.

you visit us And bless us far more deeply in your Son Who came, a grain of wheat, sown deep for us Into the furrowed grave, planted alone That we might die and rise again with him In the rich valley of the resurrection.

The places where the veil seems very thin: The forest grove at sunrise or the hollow In the hills on autumn evenings when We seem to hear the horns of Efland blowing And strange unearthly longings draw us in.

Grace of the graceful, true strength of the strong, The captor of captivity, his day Is coming, and the time will not be long.

Psalm 69: LXIX Salvum me fac

longing for the King Who is to come, whose coming ends all strife, Who will defend the poor, descend and bring With him the saints in glory and a new Heaven and Earth.

Upon the grass, borne on the quiet breath Of God’s own spirit, Christ the saviour came To Bethlehem, like rain on the good earth And those who met his love and learned his name Became like him and kept this hope alive That one day the whole world would live in him.

Bring order out of chaos, as you did When darkness fled before your holy Word.

Psalm 75: LXXV Confitebimur tibi

When darkness fled before your holy Word You brought a world of beauty into being. The sons of morning sang, creation heard The song of heaven, and its echoes fleeing Still stir a kind of music in our hearts, As traces of that light transform our seeing.

We lift our heads and gaze At you in wonder, for we see the cup The psalmist feared, so full of blood-red wine, Is now a cup of blessing, life and hope.

Psalm 77: LXVII Voce mea ad Dominum As heaven’s mercy falls like gentle rain, I lift my face and let it wash me clean. In all my times of trouble, darkness, pain, I cry to him. I come to him and lean Again into the comfort of his grace And I remember all that he has been To me in all my years of life. I trace Once more the story of his steadfast love: He sought me even when I turned my face Away from him, descended from above And found me in my hiding place. His might Broke up my clouds of darkness, and he strove Against the waves of chaos, in the night Of my affliction, when he rescued me And led me out of darkness into light.