The Shield, the Glory, and the Lifted Head

A Poem Inspired by Psalm 3:3-4

When many rise against me in the night,  

And voices mock that God has turned away,  

When shadows lengthen over paths of flight  

And hope itself seems swallowed by dismay,  

Then turns my soul, O Lord, to thee alone,  

And speaks the ancient words with steady breath:  

But thou, O Lord, art shield about my own,  

My glory and the lifter of my head.  

Not distant fortress built by human hand,  

Nor fleeting wall of stone that time decays,  

But thou thyself, the everlasting Stand,  

Encirclest me with unassailable grace.  

Each arrow aimed by envy, fear, or spite  

Must first encounter thy protective might.  

No dart of darkness, no accusing word,  

Can pierce the circle of thy sovereign guard.  

Thou art the buckler borne in every fight,  

The close defense when battle presses near.  

In thee I hide when tempests rage and roar,  

And find my soul upheld though earth should shake.  

My glory, Lord, when earthly crowns are lost,  

When thrones are toppled and the mighty fall,  

When friends betray and honor turns to dust,  

Thou art the splendor that outshines them all.  

No fleeting praise of men, no vain acclaim,  

No glittering prize that mortal hands bestow,  

Can match the weight of thy eternal name  

That rests upon the head of those who know  

That worth is not in what the world applauds,  

But in the honor of thy loving choice.  

Thou makest me a vessel of thy praise,  

A mirror where thy beauty is displayed.  

Though scorn may strip the garments of my pride,  

In thee my dignity shall still abide.  

The lifter of my head, when bowed with shame,  

When sorrow bends the neck and grief bows low,  

When failure whispers that I bear the blame  

And hope lies crushed beneath the crushing blow,  

Thou comest gently, strong yet full of grace,  

And with thy hand dost raise what sin brought down.  

Thou turnest mourning into dancing praise,  

And givest courage where despair had grown.  

No longer do I walk with downcast eyes,  

Fixed only on the dust beneath my feet;  

Thou liftest me to see the open skies,  

Where mercy waits and promises are sweet.  

The head once heavy with the night’s long tears  

Now rises, strengthened by thy joy that cheers.  

I cried aloud, O Lord, with voice unfeigned,  

Not polished prayer or measured, careful tone,  

But urgent cry born out of need and pain,  

A shout that reached thy high and holy throne.  

From thy pure hill, from Zion’s sacred height,  

Where thou dost reign in majesty supreme,  

Thou heardest me amid the stormy night  

And sentest answer like a healing stream.  

Though far I wandered from the courts of praise,  

Though distance stretched between my soul and thee,  

Yet still thy mercy found its ancient ways  

And brought deliverance swift and full and free.  

No gulf of circumstance, no wall of fear,  

Can block the pathway of thy listening ear.  

Selah. Pause and ponder what is sung.  

Let every heart that hears these words take heed.  

The God who shielded David when he fled,  

Who was his glory when his crown was gone,  

Who lifted up his head when all seemed dead,  

Still lives to guard, to honor, and to raise  

The weary pilgrim through the darkest days.  

He hears the cry of young and old alike,  

The broken plea, the silent tear at night.  

O souls who labor under heavy loads,  

Whose shoulders bend beneath unyielding care,  

Whose heads are bowed upon life’s weary roads,  

Lift up your eyes and see who waits there.  

He is the Shield that never fails or bends,  

The Glory brighter than the morning sun,  

The Lifter who restores what sorrow rends,  

The Answer when the battle scarce begun.  

In him find refuge when the tempests blow,  

In him discover worth that cannot fade,  

In him receive the strength to rise and go,  

Though every earthly helper be dismayed.  

So let the morning find thee on thy knees,  

Declaring still the threefold blessed name:  

My Shield, my Glory, Lifter of my head,  

The Lord who hears and answers when I call.  

Though many rise and many threats be spread,  

Yet thou, O Lord, art more than all.  

Thy holy hill stands firm though kingdoms fall,  

Thy voice of mercy echoes through the years.  

In thee I trust, and in thy strength I stand,  

Redeemed, protected, honored, and restored,  

Until at last before thy throne I fall,  

Where every head is lifted evermore.  

There, in the light no darkness can assail,  

Where shield and glory blend in endless day,  

The lifted heads of all the ransomed hail  

The Lamb once slain who took our shame away.  

For Christ, the greater David, faced the foe,  

Absorbed the arrows, bore the cross’s weight,  

Cried out, was heard, and rose that we might know  

The shield, the glory, and the lifted state.  

In him the psalm finds perfect, full release;  

In him the weary find eternal peace.