Psalms 39
39
PSALM 39
Common Meter: 8,6,8,6
To the chief Musician, even to Jeduthan,
A Psalm of David.
1I said, I will look to my ways,
lest with my tongue I sin:
In sight of wicked men my mouth
with bridle I'll keep in.
2With silence I as dumb became,
I did myself restrain
From speaking good; but then the more
increased was my pain.
3My heart within me waxed hot;
and, while I musing was,
The fire did burn; and from my tongue
these words I did let pass:
4Mine end, and measure of my days,
O Lord, unto me show
What is the same; that I thereby
my frailty well may know.
5Lo, thou my days an handbreadth mad'st;
mine age is in thine eye
As nothing: sure each man at best
is wholly vanity.
6Sure each man walks in a vain show;
they vex themselves in vain:
He heaps up wealth, and doth not know
to whom it shall pertain.
7And now, O Lord, what wait I for?
my hope is fix'd on thee.
8Free me from all my trespasses,
the fool's scorn make not me.
9Dumb was I, op'ning not my mouth,
because this work was thine.
10Thy stroke take from me; by the blow
of thine hand I do pine.
11When with rebukes thou dost correct
man for iniquity,
Thou wastes his beauty like a moth:
sure each man's vanity.
12Attend my cry, Lord, at my tears
and pray'rs not silent be:
I sojourn as my fathers all,
and stranger am with thee.
13O spare thou me, that I my strength
recover may again,
Before from hence I do depart,
and here no more remain.
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maintained by the British and Foreign Bible Society
Psalms 39
39
1-3I’m determined to watch steps and tongue
so they won’t land me in trouble.
I decided to hold my tongue
as long as Wicked is in the room.
“Mum’s the word,” I said, and kept quiet.
But the longer I kept silence
The worse it got—
my insides got hotter and hotter.
My thoughts boiled over;
I spilled my guts.
4-6“Tell me, what’s going on, God?
How long do I have to live?
Give me the bad news!
You’ve kept me on pretty short rations;
my life is a string too short to be saved.
Oh! we’re all puffs of air.
Oh! we’re all shadows in a campfire.
Oh! we’re just spit in the wind.
We make our pile, and then we leave it.
7-11“What am I doing in the meantime, Lord?
Hoping, that’s what I’m doing—hoping
You’ll save me from a rebel life,
save me from the contempt of idiots.
I’ll say no more, I’ll shut my mouth,
since you, Lord, are behind all this.
But I can’t take it much longer.
When you put us through the fire
to purge us from our sin,
our dearest idols go up in smoke.
Are we also nothing but smoke?
12-13“Ah, God, listen to my prayer, my
cry—open your ears.
Don’t be callous;
just look at these tears of mine.
I’m a stranger here. I don’t know my way—
a migrant like my whole family.
Give me a break, cut me some slack
before it’s too late and I’m out of here.”
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THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved. Used by permission of NavPress. Represented by Tyndale House Publishers.