I’m hurt and in pain;
Give me space for healing, and mountain air.
Let me shout God’s name with a praising song,
Let me tell his greatness in a prayer of thanks.
For God, this is better than oxen on the altar,
Far better than blue-ribbon bulls.
The poor in spirit see and are glad—
Oh, you God-seekers, take heart!
For God listens to the poor,
He doesn’t walk out on the wretched.
You heavens, praise him; praise him, earth;
Also ocean and all things that swim in it.
For God is out to help Zion,
Rebuilding the wrecked towns of Judah.
Guess who will live there—
The proud owners of the land?
No, the children of his servants will get it,
The lovers of his name will live in it.