Psalm 74                                                                                                    Tuesday Midday 3

Why, God, are you continually angry? * Why do your nostrils smoke against the sheep you tend?

Remember the flock you acquired of old. * Redeem with your club your patrimony, * Mount Zion where you lived.

Raise up your own people from the total ruins; * the enemy has damaged everything in your sanctuary.

    Your adversaries roared amid your assembly; * they set up emblems by the hundreds.

        They set fire to the upper entrance, * while axes hacked at the paneling.

           They cut down all its doors; * they battered with axes and machetes.

        They set your sanctuary on fire; * they utterly desecrated your name's abode.

    They said in their hearts, * “Let all their children be burned, * all God's assemblies in the land.”

        Signs for us we do not see; * there is no prophet now; * no interpreter of indications has come to us.

           How long, God, will the adversary blaspheme you, * the enemy insult your name, O Conqueror?

           Why do you draw back your left hand, * and clasp your right hand to your chest?

        Destroy, God, the kings from the East; * achieve victory in the capital of the world!

        It was you who shattered the Sea with your strength, * who smashed the heads of Tannin, * surging from the sea.

            It was you who crushed the heads of Leviathan, * who gave him as food * to be gathered by desert tribes.

               It was you who released springs and streams, * who made dry land out of ancient rivers.

            Yours is the day and yours the night; * it was you who gave existence to the moon and sun.

        It was you who fixed the zones of the earth, * and made summer and winter.

    Remember the insults of the enemy who blasphemed you, Yahweh, * and the foolish people that mocked your name.

        Do not deliver to wild beasts * those taught by you.

           The lives of your afflicted * do not ignore, O Conqueror!

        Look down upon your temple; * the city is filled with darkness, * the countryside with violence.

    Let not the downtrodden sit in shame; * rather let the poor and needy praise your name.

Arise, God; champion your cause! * Remember how fools blaspheme you all day long.

Do not forget the clamor of your adversaries, * the ever-mounting uproar of your assailants.


End of Tues Midday 3

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