Promise 52: Joy Comes In The Morning

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Psalm 30

New Living Translation

¹ I will exalt you, Lord, for you rescued me.
    You refused to let my enemies triumph over me.
² O Lord my God, I cried to you for help,
    and you restored my health.
³ You brought me up from the grave,^[a] O Lord.
    You kept me from falling into the pit of death.

⁴ Sing to the Lord, all you godly ones!
    Praise his holy name.
⁵ For his anger lasts only a moment,
    but his favor lasts a lifetime!
Weeping may last through the night,
    but joy comes with the morning.

⁶ When I was prosperous, I said,
    “Nothing can stop me now!”
⁷ Your favor, O Lord, made me as secure as a mountain.
    Then you turned away from me, and I was shattered.

⁸ I cried out to you, O Lord.
    I begged the Lord for mercy, saying,
⁹ “What will you gain if I die,
    if I sink into the grave?
Can my dust praise you?
    Can it tell of your faithfulness?
¹⁰ Hear me, Lord, and have mercy on me.
    Help me, O Lord.”

¹¹ You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing.
    You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy,
¹² that I might sing praises to you and not be silent.
    O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever!

 

 

Psalm 30

The Message

30 I give you all the credit, God—
    you got me out of that mess,
    you didn’t let my foes gloat.

^2-3 God, my God, I yelled for help
    and you put me together.
God, you pulled me out of the grave,
    gave me another chance at life
    when I was down-and-out.

^4-5 All you saints! Sing your hearts out to God!
    Thank him to his face!
He gets angry once in a while, but across
    a lifetime there is only love.
The nights of crying your eyes out
    give way to days of laughter.

^6-7 When things were going great
    I crowed, “I’ve got it made.
I’m God’s favorite.
    He made me king of the mountain.”
Then you looked the other way
    and I fell to pieces.

^8-10 I called out to you, God;
    I laid my case before you:
“Can you sell me for a profit when I’m dead?
    auction me off at a cemetery yard sale?
When I’m ‘dust to dust’ my songs
    and stories of you won’t sell.
So listen! and be kind!
    Help me out of this!”

^11-12 You did it: you changed wild lament
    into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band
    and decked me with wildflowers.
I’m about to burst with song;
    I can’t keep quiet about you.
God, my God,
    I can’t thank you enough.