A poem on Psalm 52.
Why do you boast, O man of might,
when Evil grows within your sight?
Your tongue, a razor sharp and keen,
devours the Good where Truth has been.
You love the Lie—the word untrue, —
more than the Right that God would do.
With every word, your tongue Deceives
and spreads the harm your Pride achieves.
But God will strike, and you’ll be torn
from roots to ground, your name forlorn.
No place in life, no house to claim, —
forgotten now, erased in shame.
The Righteous see, and they will laugh
at how your Pride met God’s own Wrath.
“This is the man,” they’ll say with scorn,
“who trusted wealth, in evil adorned.
“In himself, he placed his trust,
while turning Goodness into dust.”
But I, a Tree by Waters fed,
I trust in God and what He’s pled.
Forevermore, His Name I’ll praise;
in His House, my voice I’ll raise.
For what He’s done, my Thanks will flow,
for He is coming, whom I’ll know.
The Lutheran Column 