A poem on Psalm 28.
To You, O Lord, I lift my Plea;
my Rock, be not as stone to me.
If You are Silent, I shall fall
like one who treads the Grave’s dark halls.
Hear as I cry—my hands outspread;
toward Your Holy Place I have fled.
Draw me not with the Wicked crowd,
whose hearts are False, whose tongues are loud.
They plot their Harm, yet speak of Peace;
their Deeds betray where Lies increase.
Repay their Works, their Schemes undone;
for they Reject what You’ve begun.
Forever blest, the Lord is Near;
He Hears my voice and Calms my fears.
My Strength, my Shield, my heart’s Delight,
in Him I Trust; my soul takes flight.
The Lord is Strong—His people’s stay, —
their Saving Refuge, come what may.
Lift up Your Flock, O Shepherd true,
and carry us each day Anew.
The Lutheran Column 