O I will love Ye, LORD, ma strength:
The LORD’s ma rock and fort,
Ma God, ma savin refuge, ma
Stranghauld, ma last resort.
Ma shield, ma mountain-tap secure,
My heigh tow’r, ivver praised.
I’ll caa upon the LORD and fae
Ma enemies be saved.
The cords o Daith encompass’t me
And floods o rogues assail’t.
The cords o Hell encompass’t me:
Daith’s snares afore me trail’t.
In straits, I caa’d unte the LORD;
Ma God I caa’d for aid;
He fae His Temple heard ma voice,
Ma plea afore Him laid.
It came inte the LORD God’s ears:
The Land tossed, ripplin sair.
The mountains’ foonds moved and they shook,
For His het wrath rage’t ‘ere.
Syne smeek went up, as ‘twere His rage,
Fire tee, as His mou sent.
Consumin fire cam oot fae Him:
Coals flam’t as forth it went.
He bowed the Hivvens and cam doon;
And dark was unner’s feet.
He on a cherub* rode – aye, flew! –
On wings o wind gaed fleet.
He made the darkness His disguise,
Dark watters swirl’t His tent,
Pavilioned by the low’rin clouds
O e skies’ ain firmament.
At e licht afore, His clouds let flee
Hailstenes, het coals, in ire.
In Hivven He roart – e Maist Heigh’s voice:
Hailstenes and coals of fire!
Aye, syne He sent His arraws furth,
And them he scatterit;
His shot His lightnings oot as weel,
And them discomfitit.
The channels o the watters schawed
The warld’s foonds laid bare,
At thy rebuke. Yer nostrils, LORD,
Sent breath like blast o air.
Fae ‘n high He sent: He drew me oot,
Fae watters’ great amang;
Snatch’t me fae hatefu enemies,
That were te me ow’r strang.
They did confront me in the day
O my calamity,
But even then the LORD Himsel
Was ma support and stey.
He brocht me oot intil a place
That was baith wide and free.
Delivered me and made me strang,
For He was please’t wi me.
The Lord’s been guid te me because
In richteousness I walk,
Accordin te ma purity
O hand, He peyed me back.
For I hae kept the LORD’s ain weys,
Nae evilly backslid:
For aa His laws afore me were;
His statutes nivver hid.
Sincere afore Him was ma hert,
In ma integrity;
And, keepin watch, I kept masel
Fae ma iniquity.
Efter ma richteousness, the LORD
Has gien me recompense;
As my clean hands did, in His eyes,
Declare ma innocence.
Yer gracious te the gracious, and
Te upricht men, upricht;
The polish’t, ye’ll shine brichter still,
Swick crookit enes ootricht!
For you will save the people fa
Oppress’t and lowly lie;
And Ye will hummle bigsy fowk,
Fa lift their een on heigh!
For Ye will licht my cruisie, sae
It burns te gie me licht.
The LORD, ma God, enlichtens and
He turns ma darkness bricht.
For by Ye I hae breengit throw
A bunch of bandits aa,
And by ma God, spring in ma step,
I’ve loupit ow’r a waa!
As for God, perfect is His wey,
The LORD’s word’s furnace-tried:
He is a shield for aa yon fowk
Fa dea in Him confide.
For: fa is God, except the LORD?
The Rock? Fa, but oor God?
The God that girds me roond wi strength,
And maks complete ma road;
Fa maks ma feet like does’ and on
Ma heigh place stands me fast;
Fa trains ma hands for warfare, sae
Ma airms bend bows o brass!
Ye gave me Yer Salvation’s shield
Yer richt hand uphaulds me;
I’m increas’t by the royal grace
O Yer humility.
Ye braiden’t ma steps unner me.
Nae slippin were ma feet;
I chas’t ma faes and nabbit them,
Nor stopp’t till they were beat!
I crush’t them sae they couldna rise;
They’ve faa’en anaith ma feet.
Ye girdit me wi strength for war:
Ma rebels Ye doon beat!
Ye gied me ma faes’ neck, sae I
Ma haters could destroy;
They cry’t oot, hopeless, te the Lord,
But He gied nae reply.
I beat them doon, sma as the dust
Afore e breeze’s blaw!
I teem’t them oot like sweepit stue,
Oot in the street an aa!
Ye saved me fae fowk’s strivins, made
Me heid ow’r heathens tee:
A people I had nivver kent
Will service gie te me.
And fan ma fame comes te their ears,
They’ll heed, obediently.
The sons o strangers will shrink back
And watch their step wi me.
The sons o strangers fade awa
Ta folly, wi shame’t face;
They’ll come, aa feart te schaw themselves,
Oot o their hidin-place.
The LORD lives! Blessit be ma Rock!
God o ma help, be raise’t,
This God fa has avengit me
And fowk anaith me place’t!
He saves me fae ma faes and lifts
Me up ow’r rebels tee!
Ye, fae the man o violence,
Has safe deliver’t me.
For this cause, I’ll gie thanks te ye,
The heathen fowk amang;
And I will te Yer Name, O LORD,
Strum praises in a sang.
O, great Salvation gives He te
His King, wi kindness heigh,
Te His Anointit, David, and te
Aa his seed, for aye.
- Cherub – not a Victorian ‘baby’ but an angel. Also a cheruv, a winged creature, as at the doors of Babylon, with a lion’s body and man’s face. In his inspired imagination, the writer is symbolising the LORD’s authority, which transcends even the power of Empire. A variant picture of cheruvim are the angels over the Ark of the Covenant.
2017, 2019, Bruce Gardner.