OF PSALMS...

Bitterness, Oh Lord, has taken root against me.
It has sprung up and choked the very life from me.
When will you, the Gardener of my heart, pluck it from my presence?
It steals away the joy of my salvation, and I am left melancholy.
How am I to bear fruit, Oh great Tender of my soil?
If it robs me of my nourishment and I am left destitute,
I will surely perish to a withered shell.
Yet, I trust in you because you are ever faithful and patient.
I know you are full aware of what has set itself in opposition to me.
It is also within my grasp to know that you desire a good yield.
If it seems good to you to be tried by that which is set against me,
I also know that my roots will grow deeper as a means of survival.
In due season, so as to reap what I am able to present before you,
While also destroying that which has risen against me.
You are to be praised for your wisdom.

OF PSALMS...

Let the heavens be filled with your wonder.
And the whole world be amazed by the works of your hands.
Yes, the things that have confounded men throughout the ages.
Still, there are a few faithful.
Those who know our origins are not of chance.
Those who are in awe of your majesty though they cannot comprehend it in fullness,
Offering praise and thanksgiving for what has been revealed.
How long should the rest refuse?
The ones, whom you have created, yet have rejected you.
Merciful Lord, they do not understand your longsuffering.
They mistake it for indifference and even non-existence.
All the while your hand is still stretched out.
Even your fingertips are extended until the last one shall acquire.
My God and my King, full of glory and all things incomparable.