Psalm
Deliver, O Lord, from all wrongdoing,
save from those who do deeds of violence;
may my prayer be incense before you,
my upraised hands an evening sacrifice.
When my spirit is weak, you know my way.
In my path they have hidden a dark trap;
thus my spirit grows faint deep inside me,
the depths of my gut are appalled within.
Bow down your heavens, O Lord, and come down;
descend on the mountains that they might smoke!
The might of your great deeds shall be proclaimed,
and I will declare out loud your greatness;
justice you perform for the oppressed,
food you give to those who hunger and starve.
You cover the heavens with layered clouds,
make rain descend and grass grow on the hills:
on mountains there grow fruit trees and cedars!