The bits I can sing...

I know there is a way to chant the Psalter. However, I cannot read music and, thus, do not actually know any of the tones. Besides, I really like singing. So, I have been thinking about the psalm praise song I wrote about the other day and thought I would put all the ones I know together here, singing them as I type.

These first two, I learned sitting on the beach in Liberia, Africa.  Two Liberian girls sang them to me over and over and over again until I could sing with them.  The waves were crashing at our feet, dampening the lappa cloth we wore as skirts.  Their joy was so full that I could have listened to them forever.  

They had no Bibles, but memorized everything they heard when missionaries came out to their small congregation in the heart of Buzzi Quarter—a place that made Calcutta look upscale—tucked within the capital of Monrovia.  The knowledge of the congregation had been passed from missionary to missionary and those who dared to leave the compound to teach on Sundays, always made sure when their tenure was over that someone coming after them would find their way to this small flock. 

Some Canadian missionaries I met in training carried the torch, so I started going with them to teach Sunday School classes. I confess that I was always scared, terrified really, as I left the streets of the capital and entered this place where I could find no place for my eyes to rest that did not break my heart.  The solitary source of water was a small trench running through the rows of shacks and it was literally florescent green. Not everyone had clothing and most of that were really more tattered rags than shirts, pants, and skirts.  People huddled around communal pots of rather dirty rice and palm butter, a thick lard made from the nuts from palm trees.  Small small shelters made from cinderblocks filled the quarter, with roofs merely a sheet of metal held in place by rocks.  Inside, a palette took most of the floor space, a single bed for usually generations of family members. 

Yet the first time I heard that small, utterly destitute congregation sing, I wept.  For me, it was the one time in my life that I was sure worship, not singing, was taking place.  I confess it grieves me deeply that those hungry Christians were not fed the True doctrine.  I shudder to think of the burden of Gospel as law, of works righteousness I heaped upon them.

For my flawed teaching, filled with fear and trembling for where I stood, these girls visited me on the compound and taught me to sing the beginning verses of two psalms:

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High

Shall abideth in the shadow of the Almighty.

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High

Shall abideth in the shadow of the Almighty.

And I will sing of the Lord and of His refuge.

His fortress in Thee will I trust.

And I will sing of the Lord and of His refuge.

His fortress in Thee will I trust.

Hear my cry O God
Attendeth unto me.
From the ends of the earth
I call out to Thee.

When my heart is overwhelmed
Lead me to the rock
that is higher than I,
That is higher than I.

For Thou hast been
a refuge unto me
A tower of strength
against the enemy.

When my heart is overwhelmed

Lead me to the rock
that is higher than I,
That is higher than I.

Because they had no bibles, I taught them my favorite song I knew straight from Scripture, though not the Psalter.  It has just a single word changed (to change to unto) to fit the cadence of the song.  For me, the joy of it came decades after I learned that it was about Jesus coming to us.  I do not know how many times I sang it to them, but before they left, they sang it back to me, for me.

"The Lord your God is in your midst,
A victorious warrior.
He will exult over you with joy,
He will be quiet in His love,
He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy."

Shout for joy, O daughter of Zion!
Shout in triumph, O Israel!
Rejoice and exult with all your heart,
O daughter of Jerusalem!
The Lord has taken away His judgments against you,
He has cleared away your enemies.
The King of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst;
You will fear disaster no more.
In that day it will be said unto Jerusalem:
“Do not be afraid, O Zion;
Do not let your hands fall limp.

"The Lord your God is in your midst,
A victorious warrior.
He will exult over you with joy,
He will be quiet in His love,
He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy."

The rest of these are the psalm songs I learned in the 80s, when I was finally allowed to go to church.  They are the only praise songs I know, aside from the ones based on Micah 6:8 and Revelation 5:12-13, that are taken from Scripture primarily word for word, even if there is some repetition built in.  Thanks be to our Triune God that I understand them now, that I know they are prayers petitioning God to be heard, to be remembered, to be rescued.  

Laugh if you will, but they are my shower songs.

Give hear to my word, O Lord.
Consider my meditation.
Hearken on the voice of my cry,
My King and my God.
For unto Thee wilt I pray.
My voice cries to Thee in the morning.
O, Lord, in the morning
Will I direct my prayer
Unto Thee and will look up.

O, Lord, in the morning
Will I direct my prayer
Unto Thee and will look up.



Hear O Lord and answer.

I am poor and needy.
Guard my life for I am devoted to You.
Hear my prayer, O Lord
and my cry for mercy;
in this day of trouble I will call for You.

Hear my prayer O Lord.

Hear O Lord and answer.
I am poor and needy.
Guard my life for I am devoted to You.
Hear my prayer, O Lord
and my cry for mercy;
in this day of trouble I will call for You.



I lift up my eyes unto the Lord
From whence shall come my help.
My help comes from the Lord God,
Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not give to the moving of your foot.
He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold He'll not slumber, nor will He sleep.
He who keeps Israel.



Thou, O Lord, 

are a shield about me,

You're my glory.

You're the lifter of my head.

Thou, O Lord,

art a shield about me.
You're the lifter of my head.

Alleluia!  Alleluia! Alleluia!

You're the lifter of my head.

Create in me a clean heart, O God

and renew a right spirit within me.

Create in me a clean heart, O God

and renew a right spirit within me.

Cast me not away from Thy presence, O Lord,

And take not Thy Holy Spirit fro me.

Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation

and renew a right spirit within me.

Unto Thee, O Lord

Do I lift up my soul
Unto Thee, O Lord
Do I lift up my soul

O, my God,
I trust in Thee.
Let me not be ashamed;
Let not my enemies triumph over me.

You let none that wait
On Thee be ashamed
Yea let none that wait 

On Thee be ashamed
O, my God,
I trust in Thee.
Let me not be ashamed;
Let not my enemies triumph over me.

Show me Thy ways
Thy ways O Lord
Teach me Thy paths
Thy paths O Lord

O, my God,
I trust in Thee.
Let me not be ashamed;
Let not my enemies triumph over me.

Remember not
The sins of my youth.
Remember not
The sins of my youth.

O, my God,
I trust in Thee.
Let me not be ashamed;
Let not my enemies triumph over me.

In writing the post the other day, I realized that while I still grieve the loss of the Bible verses I had memorized and the Bible stories I knew because of the way my brain is being ravaged, I still have these songs.  So, I actually still have the Living Word within my mind, within my grasp, for when I am crying out to God whilst writhing from innards agony.  How merciful is my Creator, my Good Shepherd, my Comforter!

Would that it were I forget not this bit of remembering and realizing that took place this day.

When I do forget ... again ... remind me what I know.

Remind me what God planted long ago for times such as this.

Come visit me, and I will sing them all to you.  Of course, this is in addition to praying many psalm with you and for you.  And reading some glorious bits of the Book of Concord, too.  Perhaps, too, having you sing some Lutheran hymnody to me.  Don't worry about having to think of which ones, I have a list of hymn I ache to hear ready at hand!


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!