Praise the one who promises much!
Praise him, O my soul!
I will trust the one who gets things done;
I will hope in that one while I have my being.
For trusting in the Lord is difficult;
the Creator of all, who speaks and it comes to pass.
He stands outside of time—infinite, eternal;
but rarely acts how I think best.
Happy instead is the one helped by the powerful,
whose hope is held by the mighty,
stewarding portions of earth,
claiming much, but controlling nothing,
saying what it takes to get ahead;
overlooking the insignificant,
manipulating through generosity.
The mighty project power,
hoping to blind us to their weakness.
they love only the loyal.
The powerful ignore the weak;
but will perhaps uphold me,
until my way is brought to ruin.
The mighty reign but a blink,
destined to disappoint—
brought to nothing by death.