Metrical Version of Psalm XXII.
By Editor
1 Why, O my God, hast thou forsaken me?
Why, why so far the help thou mightest send?
Why, as I raise my agonizing plea,
Does not, O Lord, thy listening ear attend? 2 Through all the day, to Heaven I raise my cry,
But my petition finds no answer there;
No night in gloom and silence passes by,
That is not burdened with my weary prayer. 3 But thou art holy, all thy works are just,
Thou who inhabitest thy people's praise; 4 In thee our fathers put their constant trust,
And thou didst save them in their evil days. 5 They cried to thee, and sure deliverance came,
They trusted and were never left to fall. 6 But I'm a worm, denied the human name,
Cast out of men, reproached, despised, by all. 7 They laugh to scorn whene'er they see me nigh,
They curl the lip and shake the head in taunt, 8 He trusted in the Lord, they mocking cry,
Now let him save him in his hour of want. 9 But thou art he who from my earliest day,
Didst to my frame thy quickening power accord,
As helpless on my mother's breasts I lay,
Thou mad'st me hope in thy sure mercy, Lord. 10 Yea, from my birth have I been wholly thine,
Thou art my God from life's most secret spring; 11 Be not far off; for troubles round me twine,
And none are near the needed help to bring. 12 Wild bulls unnumbered have compassed me round,
Dread bulls of Bashan, fierce, and bold and strong, 13 They gaped upon me, bowing to the ground,
Like ravening lions, roaring loud and long. 14 I am like water poured upon the earth;
My aching bones are from their sockets pressed;
My heart, like wax upon the glowing hearth,
Melts down within my fearful, fainting breast. 15 Like withering potsherds is my strength decayed,
Fast to my jaws my tongue in sorrow cleaves,
Heavy thy hand is on my spirit laid,
The dust of death at last my soul receives. 16 Vile crowds of evil men inclosed me fast;
My hands and feet they pierced with cruel smart; 17 On my gaunt form their haughty looks they cast, 18 And 'mong themselves, by lot, my garments part. 19 But, O my Lord, be not thou far away;
Make haste to help me, O my horn of power! 20 Give not my soul unto the sword a prey,
Let not the dog my darling one devour. 21 Save, for thou canst, e'en from the lion's jaws;
For when the unicorns hard at me thrust,
Thou then did'st hear me and maintain my cause,
And bid me never thy strong arm distrust. 22 Unto my brethren, I'll declare thy name,
The people all shall hear the praise I bring. 23 O ye that fear the Lord, his praise proclaim,
Ye seed of Jacob of his goodness sing.
Ye hosts of Israel, fear before the Lord, 24 For he his mercy hath not turned aside,
Nor the affliction of the poor abhorred,
Nor hid his face, but heard him when he cried. 25 Among thy saints I will thy name adore,
With them that fear thee, I my vows will pay, 26 The meek shall eat and never hunger more,
Who seek, shall praise thee through eternal day. 27 The willing world shall at thy feet attend,
Nations and kindreds bow before thy throne, 28 The kingdom is the Lord's and ne'er shall end,
And o'er the nations he is king alone. 29 The rich and great shall on thy bounty thrive,
The poor and needy bless thee for thine aid,
For none has power to keep his soul alive;
They trust in the provision thou hast made. 30 A seed shall serve him, whom the Lord shall own,
A generation by his goodness won. 31 They shall thy righteousness to all make known,
And tell their children what the Lord hath done.
—Ed.