This isn’t an epiphany to anyone but me — this “Psalm of David” wasn’t written by the paranoid king whom I’ve come to know in this book of songs.
This 10-verse psalm is a humble prayer unlike all the others coming before it. I might have liked King David, if he had used this ghostwriter all along.
“Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth,” the psalmist says. “Keep watch over the door of my lips.” He also declines to “eat of [wicked men’s] delicacies.”
The figurative language alone tells me that this prayer was penned by a better poet than David. This guy knows his way around a metaphor or simile.
“Let the righteous strike me,” fake David adds. “It shall be a kindness. / And let him rebuke me; / It shall be as excellent oil; / Let my head not refuse it.”
Wrapping up his petition, David’s scribe observes, “Our bones are scattered at the mouth of the grave, / As when one plows and breaks up the earth.”
And finally, “Let the wicked fall into their own [snares], / While I escape freely.” Yes, there it is — the paranoia. But this time it’s psychosis with some style.