Soak me in your laundry and I’ll come out clean, scrub me and I’ll have a snow-white life. Tune me in to foot-tapping songs, set these once-broken bones to dancing. Don’t look too close for blemishes, give me a clean bill of health. God, make a fresh start in me, shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life. Don’t throw me out with the trash, or fail to breathe holiness in me. Bring me back from gray exile, put a fresh wind in my sails! Give me a job teaching rebels your ways so the lost can find their way home. Commute my death sentence, God, my salvation God, and I’ll sing anthems to your life-giving ways. Unbutton my lips, dear God; I’ll let loose with your praise.

Desperadoes have ganged up on me, they’re hiding in ambush for me. I did nothing to deserve this, God, crossed no one, wronged no one. All the same, they’re after me, determined to get me. Wake up and see for yourself! You’re God, God-of-Angel-Armies, Israel’s God! Get on the job and take care of these pagans, don’t be soft on these hard cases.

“Enough! You’ve corrupted justice long enough, you’ve let the wicked get away with murder. You’re here to defend the defenseless, to make sure that underdogs get a fair break; Your job is to stand up for the powerless, and prosecute all those who exploit them.”

You who sit down in the High God’s presence, spend the night in Shaddai’s shadow, Say this: “God, you’re my refuge. I trust in you and I’m safe!” That’s right—he rescues you from hidden traps, shields you from deadly hazards. His huge outstretched arms protect you— under them you’re perfectly safe; his arms fend off all harm. Fear nothing—not wild wolves in the night, not flying arrows in the day, Not disease that prowls through the darkness, not disaster that erupts at high noon. Even though others succumb all around, drop like flies right and left, no harm will even graze you. You’ll stand untouched, watch it all from a distance, watch the wicked turn into corpses. Yes, because God’s your refuge, the High God your very own home, Evil can’t get close to you, harm can’t get through the door. He ordered his angels to guard you wherever you go. If you stumble, they’ll catch you; their job is to keep you from falling. You’ll walk unharmed among lions and snakes, and kick young lions and serpents from the path.

My theme song is God’s love and justice, and I’m singing it right to you, God. I’m finding my way down the road of right living, but how long before you show up? I’m doing the very best I can, and I’m doing it at home, where it counts. I refuse to take a second look at corrupting people and degrading things. I reject made-in-Canaan gods, stay clear of contamination. The crooked in heart keep their distance; I refuse to shake hands with those who plan evil. I put a gag on the gossip who bad-mouths his neighbor; I can’t stand arrogance. But I have my eye on salt-of-the-earth people— they’re the ones I want working with me; Men and women on the straight and narrow— these are the ones I want at my side. But no one who traffics in lies gets a job with me; I have no patience with liars. I’ve rounded up all the wicked like cattle and herded them right out of the country. I purged God’s city of all who make a business of evil.

O my soul, bless God! God, my God, how great you are! beautifully, gloriously robed, Dressed up in sunshine, and all heaven stretched out for your tent. You built your palace on the ocean deeps, made a chariot out of clouds and took off on wind-wings. You commandeered winds as messengers, appointed fire and flame as ambassadors. You set earth on a firm foundation so that nothing can shake it, ever. You blanketed earth with ocean, covered the mountains with deep waters; Then you roared and the water ran away— your thunder crash put it to flight. Mountains pushed up, valleys spread out in the places you assigned them. You set boundaries between earth and sea; never again will earth be flooded. You started the springs and rivers, sent them flowing among the hills. All the wild animals now drink their fill, wild donkeys quench their thirst. Along the riverbanks the birds build nests, ravens make their voices heard. You water the mountains from your heavenly reservoirs; earth is supplied with plenty of water. You make grass grow for the livestock, hay for the animals that plow the ground. Oh yes, God brings grain from the land, wine to make people happy, Their faces glowing with health, a people well-fed and hearty. God’s trees are well-watered— the Lebanon cedars he planted. Birds build their nests in those trees; look—the stork at home in the treetop. Mountain goats climb about the cliffs; badgers burrow among the rocks. The moon keeps track of the seasons, the sun is in charge of each day. When it’s dark and night takes over, all the forest creatures come out. The young lions roar for their prey, clamoring to God for their supper. When the sun comes up, they vanish, lazily stretched out in their dens. Meanwhile, men and women go out to work, busy at their jobs until evening.

Send the Evil One to accuse my accusing judge; dispatch Satan to prosecute him. When he’s judged, let the verdict be “Guilty,” and when he prays, let his prayer turn to sin. Give him a short life, and give his job to somebody else. Make orphans of his children, dress his wife in widow’s black; Turn his children into begging street urchins, evicted from their homes—homeless. May the bank foreclose and wipe him out, and strangers, like vultures, pick him clean. May there be no one around to help him out, no one willing to give his orphans a break. Chop down his family tree so that nobody even remembers his name. But erect a memorial to the sin of his father, and make sure his mother’s name is there, too— Their sins recorded forever before God, but they themselves sunk in oblivion. That’s all he deserves since he was never once kind, hounded the afflicted and heartbroken to their graves. Since he loved cursing so much, let curses rain down; Since he had no taste for blessing, let blessings flee far from him. He dressed up in curses like a fine suit of clothes; he drank curses, took his baths in curses. So give him a gift—a costume of curses; he can wear curses every day of the week! That’s what they’ll get, those out to get me— an avalanche of just deserts from God.