A poem on Psalm 75.
We give You thanks, O God Most High;
Your name is near—Your deeds draw nigh.
“I choose the time—the hour decreed;
I judge with justice every deed.
“The Earth and all within are vapor;
I alone firmly set its pillars.”
To boastful hearts, He’ll also say,
“Lift not your horn in pride today.
“Do not speak with stubborn neck,
for soon I shall bring your wreck.”
For acclaim comes not from east or west;
it’s God who lifts those whom He’s blest.
The wicked drink His wrathful cup;
its bitter dregs they finish up.
They are drunk on God’s wrathful wine;
they won’t survive His judgement divine.
But I shall sing His name always, —
declare His works, prolong His praise.
The strength of the wicked He’ll destroy;
the strength of the righteous will be His joy.
The Lutheran Column 