April 3, 2021
Holy Saturday . . . somebody whistle.
Psalm 88
To the tune of “Lord, Whose Love through Humble Service” 87.87 D Sing it at soundtrackforlent.com
1 O Lord God, the God who saves me,
day and night I cry to You.
2 Turn Your ear to hear my anguish;
may my prayer come before You.
3 For my soul is full of trouble,
and my life draws near the grave;
4 I’m like those who lose all strength and
sink to pits where none can save.
5 I am counted with the dying,
like the dead already there;
Not remembered, even by You;
fully cut off from Your care.
6 You have put me in the depths, and
in the lowest pit I’m cast;
7 Your wrath lies like weight upon me,
with Your waves, I’m drowned at last.
8 You have taken close friends from me,
made me be abhorred by them;
I am trapped, cannot escape and
with much grief my eyes are dim.
9 Yet I daily call to You, Lord;
I spread out my hands to You;
10 Do You show the dead Your wonders?
Do the dead rise and praise You?
11 Is Your love declared in death, or
in destruction, is faith found?
12 Are Your wonders known in darkness,
or Your praise where there’s no sound?
13 Still I cry to You for help, Lord;
in the morning my prayers rise;
14 Why, O Lord, do You reject me,
hide Your face from my worn eyes?
15 From my youth, I’ve been afflicted,
close to death and in despair;
16 And Your wrath has swept around me,
terrors kept me from Your care.
17 All day long those fears surround me,
and engulf me without end;
18 You take friends and loved ones from me;
darkness is my closest friend.
Holy Saturday
It’s Saturday.
Somebody whistle.
Sow a song in the field of the sky,
cracking the seal of the stone’s cold silence.
Somebody please, whistle,
like an old man walking to his own funeral
watching children play tag in the graveyard;
tombstone for home base.
It’s Saturday.
Somebody whistle.
Be still and rest.
For the Awakening,
J.D. Walt
Sower-in-Chief
seedbed.com