Who, Lord, Have I, But You?
by Helen Dowd

Psalm 73

My feet were almost gone.
My steps had well nigh slipped.
When I looked around at others
My heart, with envy was gripped.

The wicked seem to prosper.
I see the way they live.
They gather in their riches.
But no thought to others, give.

They are not drowned in trouble,
Or plagued as I have been.
Their pride wraps 'round them like a chain,
For violence, they are keen.

The wicked scoff at suffering.
They threaten to destroy.
They lay their claim to all the earth—
Their fellowmen, their toys.

They look up to the heavens.
They laugh at God above.
They broadcast evil through the earth.
They are truly void of love.

The wicked wag their heads.
They say, "What does God know?"
They go about their daily life.
Contempt for Him they show.

Yet, still they seem to prosper.
Their riches, they amass.
They hoard their wealth. They do not share.
The needy, they harass.

In vain have I cleansed my heart?
In vain have I washed my hands?
Why am I daily punished?
Lord, I do not understand!

But I dare not speak aloud,
Expressing my distress,
At how the wicked seem to thrive,
While the righteous are oppressed.

For should I say it, Lord,
That Your judgment seems unfair,
Your children would be offended.
This Lord, I could not bear.

Then I went into Your sanctuary.
Now, I understand Your plan.
I see the wicked on a slippery path,
You've condemned them, in the end.

You've brought them to destruction.
You've filled their hearts with fear.
Their desolation lingers.
The enemy's end is near!

My heart is truly grieved.
How foolish, Lord, was I!
I am forever with You.
Your presence, always nigh.

Who, Lord, have I, but You,
In heaven, or on earth?
You are my strength. You are my lot.
You've known me since my birth.

I put my trust in You.
Your works will I declare.
It's good when I to You, draw near.
Lord, You are always there.


© Helen Dowd


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