day no. 16,408 continued... Hannah's Song: a poetic verse commentary of the Tyndale translation

In the Lord my heart rejoices

And my horn in Him is lifted

Sounding loud triumphant voices

Of salvation sweetly gifted

There is none, save Him, so holy

No, not one, like Him, unblemished

There is one, the Lord, the only

God and He, my strength, replenished

Talk not much, nor flaunt pretension

Let old things flee from your speeches

For the Lord, a proud intention,

Knows afar, yet judgment reaches

Broken are the bows of strong men

While the weak, endowed, are strengthened

All the full, whose fat was waxing,

Now are found hired out and hungry;

All the thin, whose toil was taxing

Now are round and rule the country

Babies born unto the barren;

Sevenfold in sum now rival:

Mothers boasting many children

Are, behold, now waxing feeble

Wicked ways, the Lord dispatches

Haughty hearts, to Hell, belittles;

Righteous faith, from death, He snatches

Humble thirst, with life, He victuals

Gives and takes away at leisure,

Sink or swim by His good pleasure

Men of dust, by grace, God raises

Lifts them up to sit with princes

Deep in dung, He draws their gazes

To their soul’s inheritances

All the earth and its dominions

Firmly perch on His foundation

Wicked men, by Him, are pinioned

Sainted souls soar to salvation

For no man, his might, can muster

Nor his nerve, survive contrary

To the Lord whose sky shall thunder

And whose scale shall judge the ending

To His King shall reign be given

And His horn resound decision!

— Hannah's Song

Postmillitant original rendering

*** based on Tyndale's translation of 1 Samuel 2:1-10