Psalm 75
We thank you, God, we thank you— your Name is our favorite word; your mighty works are all we talk about. You say, "I'm calling this meeting to order, I'm ready to set things right. When the earth goes topsy-turvy And nobody knows which end is up, I nail it all down, I put everything in place again. I say to the smart alecks, 'That's enough,' to the bullies, 'Not so fast.'" Don't raise your fist against High God. Don't raise your voice against Rock of Ages. He's the One from east to west; from desert to mountains, he's the One. God rules: he brings this one down to his knees, pulls that one up on her feet. God has a cup in his hand, a bowl of wine, full to the brim. He draws from it and pours; it's drained to the dregs. Earth's wicked ones drink it all, drink it down to the last bitter drop! And I'm telling the story of God Eternal, singing the praises of Jacob's God. The fists of the wicked are bloody stumps, The arms of the righteous are lofty green branches.
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