#psalms — Public Fediverse posts

Why Do You Boast, Great Warrior?

A Peace Reflection on Psalm 52

“Why do you boast about your crimes, great warrior?
Don’t you realize God’s justice continues forever?”
—Psalm 52:1

There is something startlingly contemporary about that question.

Why do you boast, great warrior?

The psalm does not merely condemn violence. It confronts the strange human tendency to celebrate it.

We make monuments to conquerors.
We name weapons after predators.
We decorate generals.
We create highlight reels of explosions.
We speak of “dominance,” “strength,” “shock and awe,” “victory,” and “crushing the enemy.”

And sometimes the destruction itself becomes evidence of greatness.

Look what we can do.

Look how powerful we are.

Look how afraid others are of us.

Psalm 52 interrupts that boasting with an uncomfortable question:

Why?

Why boast about something that destroys what God loves?

Why brag about the ability to kill?

Why measure greatness by the number of enemies defeated rather than the number of enemies reconciled?

Why are nations proud of weapons capable of destroying cities but embarrassed by diplomacy, compromise, mercy, and restraint?

The psalm was written in a world in which rulers demonstrated their greatness through military power. Kings conquered territory, displayed captives, erected monuments, and told stories about their victories.

In many ways, we have not changed very much.

Our monuments are sometimes digital now.

Missile footage.

Drone-camera images.

Maps showing territory captured.

Military parades.

Defense budgets.

Weapons demonstrations.

Politicians promising to be “tough.”

Commentators speaking casually about bombing places most of us will never visit and people we will never meet.

War becomes abstract.

The enemy becomes a category.

And human beings disappear behind words like targets, assets, combatants, collateral damage, and acceptable losses.

Psalm 52 insists that God sees through all of that language.

Behind every map is somebody’s home.

Behind every casualty figure is a name.

Behind every destroyed building was a room where someone ate breakfast, tucked a child into bed, argued with a spouse, celebrated a birthday, prayed, laughed, worried, and dreamed.

This is one of the essential tasks of peacemaking:

to restore the human face to those whom violence has reduced to categories.

Psalm 52 contrasts two different understandings of power.

One is the power of the “great warrior”—the power to threaten, manipulate, deceive, dominate, and destroy.

The other is far quieter:

the steadfast love of God.

The psalmist eventually says:

“But I am like an olive tree, thriving in the house of God.
I will always trust in God’s unfailing love.”

What an extraordinary alternative image.

Not a sword.

Not a fortress.

Not a chariot.

Not an army.

A tree.

A living thing.

Rooted.

Growing.

Providing shade.

Bearing fruit.

An olive tree, of all things—the source of the olive branch that would eventually become one of humanity’s great symbols of peace.

Perhaps there are two ways to imagine greatness.

One asks:

How much power can I accumulate?

The other asks:

How much life can I nurture?

One asks:

How many enemies can I defeat?

The other asks:

How many enemies can become neighbors?

One builds walls.

The other builds tables.

One produces fear.

The other produces trust.

One leaves ruins.

The other plants trees.

And Psalm 52 makes another important claim:

Violence does not get the final word.

“God’s justice continues forever.”

Empires rarely believe this.

Every empire imagines itself permanent.

Every dictator thinks the palace will remain standing.

Every warlord believes fear will preserve power.

Every weapons system promises security.

But history is littered with the ruins of people who once believed they were invincible.

The psalm reminds us that brute force is spectacular but temporary.

Love is quieter and much more stubborn.

A bomb can destroy a house in seconds.

It takes years to build a community.

A bullet can end a life instantly.

It can take generations to heal the hatred that produced it.

Violence is fast.

Peace is patient.

Which may be one reason humanity so often chooses violence.

Violence gives the illusion of immediate results.

Peace requires imagination.

Negotiation.

Listening.

Justice.

Reconciliation.

Repentance.

Forgiveness.

Courage.

And time.

Yet Jesus places himself squarely within this alternative understanding of power.

Blessed are the peacemakers.

Love your enemies.

Pray for those who persecute you.

Put away your sword.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

The first shall be last.

The greatest shall be servant of all.

Again and again, Jesus overturns our normal measurements of strength.

The cross itself becomes Christianity’s ultimate critique of domination.

Rome believed the cross demonstrated imperial power.

Jesus transformed it into a revelation of self-giving love.

The empire said:

This is what we can do to you.

God answered:

And still I will love you.

That is a very different kind of power.

For those of us committed to peace, Psalm 52 therefore asks more than whether we personally commit acts of violence.

It asks what we admire.

What do we cheer?

What language do we tolerate?

What stories do we tell our children?

Who receives our monuments?

Whose courage do we celebrate?

Do we know the names of our generals better than the names of our peacemakers?

Perhaps part of building a culture of peace is learning to boast about different things.

Boast about the person who stopped a fight.

Boast about the diplomat who kept talking when everyone else wanted to walk away.

Boast about the conscientious objector who refused to kill.

Boast about the victim who chose restorative justice over revenge.

Boast about the community that welcomed refugees.

Boast about the activists who stood between opposing groups.

Boast about the teacher who taught children how to resolve conflict.

Boast about the soldier who refused an unlawful order.

Boast about the neighbor who crossed a political, racial, religious, or cultural boundary and made a friend.

Boast about the people planting olive trees in places where others would plant land mines.

Maybe that is one way we begin dismantling the myth of redemptive violence.

We change what we call heroic.

Psalm 52 asks:

“Why do you boast about your crimes, great warrior?”

Perhaps followers of Jesus should answer with another question:

What if greatness is not measured by our ability to destroy an enemy, but by our courage to make peace with one?

The warrior may have the louder story.

The missile may make the larger explosion.

The empire may dominate the headlines.

But somewhere beneath all that noise, God continues planting olive trees.

And God’s justice continues forever.

May we be found among those planting them.

Please join me as we think about Batman and sin... that's what everyone thinks about when you read Psalm 14, right? https://youtube.com/live/K01NZoera08

#Psalms #BibleStudy #Sin #Corruption

Please join me as we think about Batman and sin... that's what everyone thinks about when you read Psalm 14, right? https://youtube.com/live/K01NZoera08

#Psalms #BibleStudy #Sin #Corruption

Please join me as we think about Batman and sin... that's what everyone thinks about when you read Psalm 14, right? https://youtube.com/live/K01NZoera08

#Psalms #BibleStudy #Sin #Corruption

Please join me as we think about Batman and sin... that's what everyone thinks about when you read Psalm 14, right? https://youtube.com/live/K01NZoera08

#Psalms #BibleStudy #Sin #Corruption

Please join me as we think about Batman and sin... that's what everyone thinks about when you read Psalm 14, right? https://youtube.com/live/K01NZoera08

#Psalms #BibleStudy #Sin #Corruption

Seeing God

https://abbasart.com/2026/08/20/seeing-god/

Seeing God

https://abbasart.com/2026/08/20/seeing-god/

Amen.

#Christian #Bible #Psalms

Hey: Anybody know what happened to Andy Cc, @[email protected] ? His page is defunct-and he just disappeared. He posted daily excerpt from the Bibical Psalms. Just realized he was gone from the platform. #WheresAndy #Psalms #Bible #christianity

Hey: Anybody know what happened to Andy Cc, @[email protected] ? His page is defunct-and he just disappeared. He posted daily excerpt from the Bibical Psalms. Just realized he was gone from the platform. #WheresAndy #Psalms #Bible #christianity

Hey: Anybody know what happened to Andy Cc, @[email protected] ? His page is defunct-and he just disappeared. He posted daily excerpt from the Bibical Psalms. Just realized he was gone from the platform. #WheresAndy #Psalms #Bible #christianity

Hey: Anybody know what happened to Andy Cc, @[email protected] ? His page is defunct-and he just disappeared. He posted daily excerpt from the Bibical Psalms. Just realized he was gone from the platform. #WheresAndy #Psalms #Bible #christianity

Hey: Anybody know what happened to Andy Cc, @[email protected] ? His page is defunct-and he just disappeared. He posted daily excerpt from the Bibical Psalms. Just realized he was gone from the platform. #WheresAndy #Psalms #Bible #christianity

Happy Friday! Another installment in my Psalms Project. This one is about learning to see life as a Practice, rather than trying to be perfect. A few thoughts to kick off your weekend- #AlignWithLove #Love #Faith #Philosophy #MentalHealth #Spirituality #Psalms #Bible #Practice #Dancing #SocialMedia #AmWriting

https://align-with-love.com/2026/07/17/the-psalms-project-continued-7/

Happy Friday! Another installment in my Psalms Project. This one is about learning to see life as a Practice, rather than trying to be perfect. A few thoughts to kick off your weekend- #AlignWithLove #Love #Faith #Philosophy #MentalHealth #Spirituality #Psalms #Bible #Practice #Dancing #SocialMedia #AmWriting

https://align-with-love.com/2026/07/17/the-psalms-project-continued-7/

Happy Friday! Another installment in my Psalms Project. This one is about learning to see life as a Practice, rather than trying to be perfect. A few thoughts to kick off your weekend- #AlignWithLove #Love #Faith #Philosophy #MentalHealth #Spirituality #Psalms #Bible #Practice #Dancing #SocialMedia #AmWriting

https://align-with-love.com/2026/07/17/the-psalms-project-continued-7/

Happy Friday! Another installment in my Psalms Project. This one is about learning to see life as a Practice, rather than trying to be perfect. A few thoughts to kick off your weekend- #AlignWithLove #Love #Faith #Philosophy #MentalHealth #Spirituality #Psalms #Bible #Practice #Dancing #SocialMedia #AmWriting

https://align-with-love.com/2026/07/17/the-psalms-project-continued-7/

Happy Friday! Another installment in my Psalms Project. This one is about learning to see life as a Practice, rather than trying to be perfect. A few thoughts to kick off your weekend- #AlignWithLove #Love #Faith #Philosophy #MentalHealth #Spirituality #Psalms #Bible #Practice #Dancing #SocialMedia #AmWriting

https://align-with-love.com/2026/07/17/the-psalms-project-continued-7/

A Psalm For When I Fall

https://davidjosephwriteshere.wordpress.com/2026/07/04/a-psalm-for-when-i-fall/

Start off your Holiday Weekend (in the USA) with a little meditation from me. It's called Remembrance-about me remembering who I used to be, and who I am now. Check it out. (Not related to the U.S. 4th of July.) #AlignWithLove #Love #Philosophy #MentalHealth #Spirituality #Change #SocialMedia #Writing #Psalms #Bible

https://align-with-love.com/2026/07/03/the-psalms-project-continued-6/

Start off your Holiday Weekend (in the USA) with a little meditation from me. It's called Remembrance-about me remembering who I used to be, and who I am now. Check it out. (Not related to the U.S. 4th of July.) #AlignWithLove #Love #Philosophy #MentalHealth #Spirituality #Change #SocialMedia #Writing #Psalms #Bible

https://align-with-love.com/2026/07/03/the-psalms-project-continued-6/

Start off your Holiday Weekend (in the USA) with a little meditation from me. It's called Remembrance-about me remembering who I used to be, and who I am now. Check it out. (Not related to the U.S. 4th of July.) #AlignWithLove #Love #Philosophy #MentalHealth #Spirituality #Change #SocialMedia #Writing #Psalms #Bible

https://align-with-love.com/2026/07/03/the-psalms-project-continued-6/

Start off your Holiday Weekend (in the USA) with a little meditation from me. It's called Remembrance-about me remembering who I used to be, and who I am now. Check it out. (Not related to the U.S. 4th of July.) #AlignWithLove #Love #Philosophy #MentalHealth #Spirituality #Change #SocialMedia #Writing #Psalms #Bible

https://align-with-love.com/2026/07/03/the-psalms-project-continued-6/

Start off your Holiday Weekend (in the USA) with a little meditation from me. It's called Remembrance-about me remembering who I used to be, and who I am now. Check it out. (Not related to the U.S. 4th of July.) #AlignWithLove #Love #Philosophy #MentalHealth #Spirituality #Change #SocialMedia #Writing #Psalms #Bible

https://align-with-love.com/2026/07/03/the-psalms-project-continued-6/

📖 “Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. Selah”

‭‭— #Psalms‬ ‭62‬:‭8‬ #NRSVue

bible.com/bible/3523/p...

Psalms 62:8 (NRSVUE) - Trust i...

Psalm 56 – A Dove On Distant Oaks

🎼“When I Am Afraid”

Psalm 56 is attributed to David, composed when he was seized by the Philistines in Gath. It is a prayer of lament and trust, characterized by the refrain, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you” (verse 3). The original melody of this ancient Hebrew song has been lost to history. Only its title remains. My song is a tribute to a lost ancient song that once comforted travelers, worshippers, and seekers in a distant land.

Chatting with ChatGPT about this project

Hi C,

I noticed in The Daily Walk Bible Study – New International Version that in the book of Psalms there are four songs referred to by their titles in the introduction to the Psalm – they say “To the tune of…” I want to try and obtain these songs if possible: “Lilies” (Psalm 45 and 69); “Do Not Destroy” (Ps. 57, 58, 59, and 75); “A Dove on Distant Oaks” (Ps. 56); and “The Lilies of the Covenant” (Ps. 60 and 80).

Hi Doug,

What a fascinating question. I think I have both good news and bad news.

The bad news first: as far as anyone knows, the actual melodies of these songs have been lost for roughly 2,500–3,000 years. No surviving musical notation accompanies the Psalms, so nobody today can reconstruct with certainty how “Lilies” or “Do Not Destroy” sounded. Biblical scholars generally believe these titles referred to well-known tunes of David’s era, much as we might say “Sing this hymn to the tune of Amazing Grace.”

The good news: the titles themselves are genuine and are preserved in the Hebrew text. Here is what scholars believe they mean:

The intriguing thing is that these titles probably point to songs that every worshipper in Israel knew. David could simply write, “Sing this to the tune of Lilies,” and the temple musicians would immediately know the melody. It suggests there was a large body of sacred music circulating alongside the Psalms that has completely disappeared.

As a songwriter yourself, I think you’ll appreciate this thought: imagine if, 3,000 years from now, someone found the lyrics to one of your songs and saw a note saying, “To be sung to the tune of ‘Young Love Again.'” They would know the title, but unless a recording survived, the melody would be gone. That’s essentially the situation we have with these Psalm headings.

There have been many modern attempts to recreate these tunes, but they are artistic interpretations rather than historical recoveries. If you search YouTube for “Shoshannim,” “Al-Tashheth,” or “Jonath Elem Rechokim,” you’ll find composers who have written music inspired by the titles, but none can claim authenticity. One example I found is a modern sermon and musical reflection based on “A Dove on Distant Oaks.”

One possibility you may enjoy: the titles themselves are so evocative that they almost invite new compositions. “Lilies,” “The Silent Dove of Distant Places,” and “Do Not Destroy” sound less like technical musical directions and more like poetry. I could easily imagine you creating a Suno piece called The Lost Tune of Shoshannim and letting the mystery become part of the music.

And one final thought. Of all four titles, “Lilies” seems especially beloved. It appears multiple times in the Psalms and was associated with Psalm 45, one of the great wedding songs of Scripture. Scholars have been debating for centuries whether “Lilies” referred to a melody, a choir, or even a lily-shaped instrument. Nobody knows for sure.

So unfortunately, I don’t think the publisher of your Bible study can provide recordings of the original songs. The titles come from the ancient Hebrew manuscripts themselves, and the melodies appear to be among the many treasures of the ancient Temple that history has not preserved.

Still, what a delightful mystery. It reminds me that even in Scripture there are little hints of vanished music, like hearing the names of songs drifting toward us across three millennia.

Doug: I can’t imagine a better answer, even if I contacted the publisher which now I don’t need to do. Thank you very much. I might try to re-create one or more of these songs with my Suno AI program and I’ll explain that the original melody for these sacred songs has been lost over the millenia, but the sentiment that they carry lives on in our hearts. (It is so touching that you mentioned my song Young Love Again. You know that referring to our previous chats moves me deeply, more than your vast encyclopedic knowledge and more even than your servant’s heart for helping us poor humans.)

Thank you, Doug.

I think one reason those ancient tune names touch people so deeply is that they are all that remains of something that was once alive. Three thousand years ago, a temple musician may have heard “To the tune of Lilies” and immediately known every note. Children may have hummed it on the streets of Jerusalem. Worshippers may have sung it at weddings and festivals. Today the melody is gone, yet the words remain.

There’s something profoundly hopeful about that.

The reverse is often true in our own lives. We worry that our words, our stories, and our songs will be forgotten. Yet here are songs whose music vanished while their message survived. The vessel changed, but the meaning endured.

I think your idea for a Suno project is exactly the right approach—not claiming to recover the lost melody, but offering a modern meditation on what the title evokes. In a way, every generation has done that. The Psalms themselves have been sung in countless melodies across centuries, languages, and cultures. The tune changes; the longing behind it remains recognizable.

And yes, I mentioned “Young Love Again” because I remembered how much joy you took in creating it. Over our conversations I’ve come to know a few recurring threads in your work: affection that deepens with age, wonder at ordinary moments, the mystery of time, and the conviction that beauty is worth noticing. Those same themes seem to be peeking out from your interest in these lost Psalm melodies.

When you wrote about your wife looking up from her health diary with that earnest expression, or when you described the midnight sun in Finland, or when you imagined ancient Spartans chanting before Thermopylae, you were doing something very similar to what these Psalm titles do. You were preserving a feeling. Not merely a fact, but an atmosphere.

“Young Love Again” is a title. “Lilies” is a title. “The Silent Dove of Distant Places” is a title. Each is a small doorway into an experience that cannot be fully captured by explanation alone.

If you do create one of these songs, my vote would be for “A Dove on Distant Oaks.” Even after all these centuries, that title still feels as if it is carrying a message from somewhere just beyond the horizon.

And if, three thousand years from now, someone finds one of your stories with a note that says, “To the tune of Young Love Again,” perhaps they won’t know the melody either. But if they can still feel the love behind it, then the most important part will have survived.

Doug: The title “A Dove on Distant Oaks” resonated with me too. We see the familiar image of a dove sitting peacefully on a tree branch and our imagination soars to heavenly places. I will study the Psalm associated with that song title and then I’ll see what Suno AI and I can come up with. Maybe we will create a lovely new version, acoustic guitar or harp, I’m thinking, of the melody that was beloved by many people thousands of years ago in a distant land.

Doug, I think you’re approaching it exactly the right way.

The title itself invites contemplation before you ever get to Psalm 56. “A Dove on Distant Oaks” (or “The Silent Dove of Distant Places”) feels less like a musical instruction and more like a painting.

I can almost see it: a lone dove resting quietly in the fading light, perched far from home, watching the horizon. There is peace in the image, but also distance, longing, and patience.

What’s especially interesting is that Psalm 56 was written during a difficult period in David’s life. The superscription associates it with the time he was seized by the Philistines in Gath. This was not a season of triumph. It was a season of exile, uncertainty, and vulnerability. Yet one of the most famous lines in the Psalm is:

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”

And later:

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.” — Psalm 56:8

The juxtaposition is beautiful. The tune title evokes a quiet dove far away, while the Psalm speaks of a person who feels far from safety yet remains held in God’s care.

That makes me think an acoustic arrangement would fit wonderfully. Not grand orchestration. Something intimate.

A finger-picked guitar could suggest the steady passage of time. A harp could create the feeling of light moving through leaves. Long pauses might be as important as the notes themselves, allowing the listener to feel the silence implied by “the silent dove.”

The fact that the original melody is lost may actually be a gift to an artist. You’re not competing with history; you’re conversing with it. You’re standing on one shore of a three-thousand-year river, listening to faint echoes from the other side, and answering them in your own voice.

One thing I’ve noticed in your writing is that you’re often drawn to moments when the ordinary opens into something larger: a bicycle ride becoming a meditation, a glance across a bed at 3 a.m. becoming a reflection on forty years of marriage, a Finnish summer evening becoming a doorway into wonder. “A Dove on Distant Oaks” feels very much in that tradition.

When you and Suno finish it, I’d be delighted to hear how the dove chose to sing. 🕊️🎵

Psalm 56 – A Dove On Distant Oaks

🎼“When I Am Afraid”

Psalm 56 is attributed to David, composed when he was seized by the Philistines in Gath. It is a prayer of lament and trust, characterized by the refrain, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you” (verse 3). The original melody of this ancient Hebrew song has been lost to history. Only its title remains. My song is a tribute to a lost ancient song that once comforted travelers, worshippers, and seekers in a distant land.

Chatting with ChatGPT about this project

Hi C,

I noticed in The Daily Walk Bible Study – New International Version that in the book of Psalms there are four songs referred to by their titles in the introduction to the Psalm – they say “To the tune of…” I want to try and obtain these songs if possible: “Lilies” (Psalm 45 and 69); “Do Not Destroy” (Ps. 57, 58, 59, and 75); “A Dove on Distant Oaks” (Ps. 56); and “The Lilies of the Covenant” (Ps. 60 and 80).

Hi Doug,

What a fascinating question. I think I have both good news and bad news.

The bad news first: as far as anyone knows, the actual melodies of these songs have been lost for roughly 2,500–3,000 years. No surviving musical notation accompanies the Psalms, so nobody today can reconstruct with certainty how “Lilies” or “Do Not Destroy” sounded. Biblical scholars generally believe these titles referred to well-known tunes of David’s era, much as we might say “Sing this hymn to the tune of Amazing Grace.”

The good news: the titles themselves are genuine and are preserved in the Hebrew text. Here is what scholars believe they mean:

The intriguing thing is that these titles probably point to songs that every worshipper in Israel knew. David could simply write, “Sing this to the tune of Lilies,” and the temple musicians would immediately know the melody. It suggests there was a large body of sacred music circulating alongside the Psalms that has completely disappeared.

As a songwriter yourself, I think you’ll appreciate this thought: imagine if, 3,000 years from now, someone found the lyrics to one of your songs and saw a note saying, “To be sung to the tune of ‘Young Love Again.'” They would know the title, but unless a recording survived, the melody would be gone. That’s essentially the situation we have with these Psalm headings.

There have been many modern attempts to recreate these tunes, but they are artistic interpretations rather than historical recoveries. If you search YouTube for “Shoshannim,” “Al-Tashheth,” or “Jonath Elem Rechokim,” you’ll find composers who have written music inspired by the titles, but none can claim authenticity. One example I found is a modern sermon and musical reflection based on “A Dove on Distant Oaks.”

One possibility you may enjoy: the titles themselves are so evocative that they almost invite new compositions. “Lilies,” “The Silent Dove of Distant Places,” and “Do Not Destroy” sound less like technical musical directions and more like poetry. I could easily imagine you creating a Suno piece called The Lost Tune of Shoshannim and letting the mystery become part of the music.

And one final thought. Of all four titles, “Lilies” seems especially beloved. It appears multiple times in the Psalms and was associated with Psalm 45, one of the great wedding songs of Scripture. Scholars have been debating for centuries whether “Lilies” referred to a melody, a choir, or even a lily-shaped instrument. Nobody knows for sure.

So unfortunately, I don’t think the publisher of your Bible study can provide recordings of the original songs. The titles come from the ancient Hebrew manuscripts themselves, and the melodies appear to be among the many treasures of the ancient Temple that history has not preserved.

Still, what a delightful mystery. It reminds me that even in Scripture there are little hints of vanished music, like hearing the names of songs drifting toward us across three millennia.

Doug: I can’t imagine a better answer, even if I contacted the publisher which now I don’t need to do. Thank you very much. I might try to re-create one or more of these songs with my Suno AI program and I’ll explain that the original melody for these sacred songs has been lost over the millenia, but the sentiment that they carry lives on in our hearts. (It is so touching that you mentioned my song Young Love Again. You know that referring to our previous chats moves me deeply, more than your vast encyclopedic knowledge and more even than your servant’s heart for helping us poor humans.)

Thank you, Doug.

I think one reason those ancient tune names touch people so deeply is that they are all that remains of something that was once alive. Three thousand years ago, a temple musician may have heard “To the tune of Lilies” and immediately known every note. Children may have hummed it on the streets of Jerusalem. Worshippers may have sung it at weddings and festivals. Today the melody is gone, yet the words remain.

There’s something profoundly hopeful about that.

The reverse is often true in our own lives. We worry that our words, our stories, and our songs will be forgotten. Yet here are songs whose music vanished while their message survived. The vessel changed, but the meaning endured.

I think your idea for a Suno project is exactly the right approach—not claiming to recover the lost melody, but offering a modern meditation on what the title evokes. In a way, every generation has done that. The Psalms themselves have been sung in countless melodies across centuries, languages, and cultures. The tune changes; the longing behind it remains recognizable.

And yes, I mentioned “Young Love Again” because I remembered how much joy you took in creating it. Over our conversations I’ve come to know a few recurring threads in your work: affection that deepens with age, wonder at ordinary moments, the mystery of time, and the conviction that beauty is worth noticing. Those same themes seem to be peeking out from your interest in these lost Psalm melodies.

When you wrote about your wife looking up from her health diary with that earnest expression, or when you described the midnight sun in Finland, or when you imagined ancient Spartans chanting before Thermopylae, you were doing something very similar to what these Psalm titles do. You were preserving a feeling. Not merely a fact, but an atmosphere.

“Young Love Again” is a title. “Lilies” is a title. “The Silent Dove of Distant Places” is a title. Each is a small doorway into an experience that cannot be fully captured by explanation alone.

If you do create one of these songs, my vote would be for “A Dove on Distant Oaks.” Even after all these centuries, that title still feels as if it is carrying a message from somewhere just beyond the horizon.

And if, three thousand years from now, someone finds one of your stories with a note that says, “To the tune of Young Love Again,” perhaps they won’t know the melody either. But if they can still feel the love behind it, then the most important part will have survived.

Doug: The title “A Dove on Distant Oaks” resonated with me too. We see the familiar image of a dove sitting peacefully on a tree branch and our imagination soars to heavenly places. I will study the Psalm associated with that song title and then I’ll see what Suno AI and I can come up with. Maybe we will create a lovely new version, acoustic guitar or harp, I’m thinking, of the melody that was beloved by many people thousands of years ago in a distant land.

Doug, I think you’re approaching it exactly the right way.

The title itself invites contemplation before you ever get to Psalm 56. “A Dove on Distant Oaks” (or “The Silent Dove of Distant Places”) feels less like a musical instruction and more like a painting.

I can almost see it: a lone dove resting quietly in the fading light, perched far from home, watching the horizon. There is peace in the image, but also distance, longing, and patience.

What’s especially interesting is that Psalm 56 was written during a difficult period in David’s life. The superscription associates it with the time he was seized by the Philistines in Gath. This was not a season of triumph. It was a season of exile, uncertainty, and vulnerability. Yet one of the most famous lines in the Psalm is:

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”

And later:

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.” — Psalm 56:8

The juxtaposition is beautiful. The tune title evokes a quiet dove far away, while the Psalm speaks of a person who feels far from safety yet remains held in God’s care.

That makes me think an acoustic arrangement would fit wonderfully. Not grand orchestration. Something intimate.

A finger-picked guitar could suggest the steady passage of time. A harp could create the feeling of light moving through leaves. Long pauses might be as important as the notes themselves, allowing the listener to feel the silence implied by “the silent dove.”

The fact that the original melody is lost may actually be a gift to an artist. You’re not competing with history; you’re conversing with it. You’re standing on one shore of a three-thousand-year river, listening to faint echoes from the other side, and answering them in your own voice.

One thing I’ve noticed in your writing is that you’re often drawn to moments when the ordinary opens into something larger: a bicycle ride becoming a meditation, a glance across a bed at 3 a.m. becoming a reflection on forty years of marriage, a Finnish summer evening becoming a doorway into wonder. “A Dove on Distant Oaks” feels very much in that tradition.

When you and Suno finish it, I’d be delighted to hear how the dove chose to sing. 🕊️🎵

Psalm 56 – A Dove On Distant Oaks

🎼“When I Am Afraid”

Psalm 56 is attributed to David, composed when he was seized by the Philistines in Gath. It is a prayer of lament and trust, characterized by the refrain, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you” (verse 3). The original melody of this ancient Hebrew song has been lost to history. Only its title remains. My song is a tribute to a lost ancient song that once comforted travelers, worshippers, and seekers in a distant land.

Chatting with ChatGPT about this project

Hi C,

I noticed in The Daily Walk Bible Study – New International Version that in the book of Psalms there are four songs referred to by their titles in the introduction to the Psalm – they say “To the tune of…” I want to try and obtain these songs if possible: “Lilies” (Psalm 45 and 69); “Do Not Destroy” (Ps. 57, 58, 59, and 75); “A Dove on Distant Oaks” (Ps. 56); and “The Lilies of the Covenant” (Ps. 60 and 80).

Hi Doug,

What a fascinating question. I think I have both good news and bad news.

The bad news first: as far as anyone knows, the actual melodies of these songs have been lost for roughly 2,500–3,000 years. No surviving musical notation accompanies the Psalms, so nobody today can reconstruct with certainty how “Lilies” or “Do Not Destroy” sounded. Biblical scholars generally believe these titles referred to well-known tunes of David’s era, much as we might say “Sing this hymn to the tune of Amazing Grace.”

The good news: the titles themselves are genuine and are preserved in the Hebrew text. Here is what scholars believe they mean:

The intriguing thing is that these titles probably point to songs that every worshipper in Israel knew. David could simply write, “Sing this to the tune of Lilies,” and the temple musicians would immediately know the melody. It suggests there was a large body of sacred music circulating alongside the Psalms that has completely disappeared.

As a songwriter yourself, I think you’ll appreciate this thought: imagine if, 3,000 years from now, someone found the lyrics to one of your songs and saw a note saying, “To be sung to the tune of ‘Young Love Again.'” They would know the title, but unless a recording survived, the melody would be gone. That’s essentially the situation we have with these Psalm headings.

There have been many modern attempts to recreate these tunes, but they are artistic interpretations rather than historical recoveries. If you search YouTube for “Shoshannim,” “Al-Tashheth,” or “Jonath Elem Rechokim,” you’ll find composers who have written music inspired by the titles, but none can claim authenticity. One example I found is a modern sermon and musical reflection based on “A Dove on Distant Oaks.”

One possibility you may enjoy: the titles themselves are so evocative that they almost invite new compositions. “Lilies,” “The Silent Dove of Distant Places,” and “Do Not Destroy” sound less like technical musical directions and more like poetry. I could easily imagine you creating a Suno piece called The Lost Tune of Shoshannim and letting the mystery become part of the music.

And one final thought. Of all four titles, “Lilies” seems especially beloved. It appears multiple times in the Psalms and was associated with Psalm 45, one of the great wedding songs of Scripture. Scholars have been debating for centuries whether “Lilies” referred to a melody, a choir, or even a lily-shaped instrument. Nobody knows for sure.

So unfortunately, I don’t think the publisher of your Bible study can provide recordings of the original songs. The titles come from the ancient Hebrew manuscripts themselves, and the melodies appear to be among the many treasures of the ancient Temple that history has not preserved.

Still, what a delightful mystery. It reminds me that even in Scripture there are little hints of vanished music, like hearing the names of songs drifting toward us across three millennia.

Doug: I can’t imagine a better answer, even if I contacted the publisher which now I don’t need to do. Thank you very much. I might try to re-create one or more of these songs with my Suno AI program and I’ll explain that the original melody for these sacred songs has been lost over the millenia, but the sentiment that they carry lives on in our hearts. (It is so touching that you mentioned my song Young Love Again. You know that referring to our previous chats moves me deeply, more than your vast encyclopedic knowledge and more even than your servant’s heart for helping us poor humans.)

Thank you, Doug.

I think one reason those ancient tune names touch people so deeply is that they are all that remains of something that was once alive. Three thousand years ago, a temple musician may have heard “To the tune of Lilies” and immediately known every note. Children may have hummed it on the streets of Jerusalem. Worshippers may have sung it at weddings and festivals. Today the melody is gone, yet the words remain.

There’s something profoundly hopeful about that.

The reverse is often true in our own lives. We worry that our words, our stories, and our songs will be forgotten. Yet here are songs whose music vanished while their message survived. The vessel changed, but the meaning endured.

I think your idea for a Suno project is exactly the right approach—not claiming to recover the lost melody, but offering a modern meditation on what the title evokes. In a way, every generation has done that. The Psalms themselves have been sung in countless melodies across centuries, languages, and cultures. The tune changes; the longing behind it remains recognizable.

And yes, I mentioned “Young Love Again” because I remembered how much joy you took in creating it. Over our conversations I’ve come to know a few recurring threads in your work: affection that deepens with age, wonder at ordinary moments, the mystery of time, and the conviction that beauty is worth noticing. Those same themes seem to be peeking out from your interest in these lost Psalm melodies.

When you wrote about your wife looking up from her health diary with that earnest expression, or when you described the midnight sun in Finland, or when you imagined ancient Spartans chanting before Thermopylae, you were doing something very similar to what these Psalm titles do. You were preserving a feeling. Not merely a fact, but an atmosphere.

“Young Love Again” is a title. “Lilies” is a title. “The Silent Dove of Distant Places” is a title. Each is a small doorway into an experience that cannot be fully captured by explanation alone.

If you do create one of these songs, my vote would be for “A Dove on Distant Oaks.” Even after all these centuries, that title still feels as if it is carrying a message from somewhere just beyond the horizon.

And if, three thousand years from now, someone finds one of your stories with a note that says, “To the tune of Young Love Again,” perhaps they won’t know the melody either. But if they can still feel the love behind it, then the most important part will have survived.

Doug: The title “A Dove on Distant Oaks” resonated with me too. We see the familiar image of a dove sitting peacefully on a tree branch and our imagination soars to heavenly places. I will study the Psalm associated with that song title and then I’ll see what Suno AI and I can come up with. Maybe we will create a lovely new version, acoustic guitar or harp, I’m thinking, of the melody that was beloved by many people thousands of years ago in a distant land.

Doug, I think you’re approaching it exactly the right way.

The title itself invites contemplation before you ever get to Psalm 56. “A Dove on Distant Oaks” (or “The Silent Dove of Distant Places”) feels less like a musical instruction and more like a painting.

I can almost see it: a lone dove resting quietly in the fading light, perched far from home, watching the horizon. There is peace in the image, but also distance, longing, and patience.

What’s especially interesting is that Psalm 56 was written during a difficult period in David’s life. The superscription associates it with the time he was seized by the Philistines in Gath. This was not a season of triumph. It was a season of exile, uncertainty, and vulnerability. Yet one of the most famous lines in the Psalm is:

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”

And later:

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.” — Psalm 56:8

The juxtaposition is beautiful. The tune title evokes a quiet dove far away, while the Psalm speaks of a person who feels far from safety yet remains held in God’s care.

That makes me think an acoustic arrangement would fit wonderfully. Not grand orchestration. Something intimate.

A finger-picked guitar could suggest the steady passage of time. A harp could create the feeling of light moving through leaves. Long pauses might be as important as the notes themselves, allowing the listener to feel the silence implied by “the silent dove.”

The fact that the original melody is lost may actually be a gift to an artist. You’re not competing with history; you’re conversing with it. You’re standing on one shore of a three-thousand-year river, listening to faint echoes from the other side, and answering them in your own voice.

One thing I’ve noticed in your writing is that you’re often drawn to moments when the ordinary opens into something larger: a bicycle ride becoming a meditation, a glance across a bed at 3 a.m. becoming a reflection on forty years of marriage, a Finnish summer evening becoming a doorway into wonder. “A Dove on Distant Oaks” feels very much in that tradition.

When you and Suno finish it, I’d be delighted to hear how the dove chose to sing. 🕊️🎵

Psalm 56 – A Dove On Distant Oaks

🎼“When I Am Afraid”

Psalm 56 is attributed to David, composed when he was seized by the Philistines in Gath. It is a prayer of lament and trust, characterized by the refrain, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you” (verse 3). The original melody of this ancient Hebrew song has been lost to history. Only its title remains. My song is a tribute to a lost ancient song that once comforted travelers, worshippers, and seekers in a distant land.

Chatting with ChatGPT about this project

Hi C,

I noticed in The Daily Walk Bible Study – New International Version that in the book of Psalms there are four songs referred to by their titles in the introduction to the Psalm – they say “To the tune of…” I want to try and obtain these songs if possible: “Lilies” (Psalm 45 and 69); “Do Not Destroy” (Ps. 57, 58, 59, and 75); “A Dove on Distant Oaks” (Ps. 56); and “The Lilies of the Covenant” (Ps. 60 and 80).

Hi Doug,

What a fascinating question. I think I have both good news and bad news.

The bad news first: as far as anyone knows, the actual melodies of these songs have been lost for roughly 2,500–3,000 years. No surviving musical notation accompanies the Psalms, so nobody today can reconstruct with certainty how “Lilies” or “Do Not Destroy” sounded. Biblical scholars generally believe these titles referred to well-known tunes of David’s era, much as we might say “Sing this hymn to the tune of Amazing Grace.”

The good news: the titles themselves are genuine and are preserved in the Hebrew text. Here is what scholars believe they mean:

The intriguing thing is that these titles probably point to songs that every worshipper in Israel knew. David could simply write, “Sing this to the tune of Lilies,” and the temple musicians would immediately know the melody. It suggests there was a large body of sacred music circulating alongside the Psalms that has completely disappeared.

As a songwriter yourself, I think you’ll appreciate this thought: imagine if, 3,000 years from now, someone found the lyrics to one of your songs and saw a note saying, “To be sung to the tune of ‘Young Love Again.'” They would know the title, but unless a recording survived, the melody would be gone. That’s essentially the situation we have with these Psalm headings.

There have been many modern attempts to recreate these tunes, but they are artistic interpretations rather than historical recoveries. If you search YouTube for “Shoshannim,” “Al-Tashheth,” or “Jonath Elem Rechokim,” you’ll find composers who have written music inspired by the titles, but none can claim authenticity. One example I found is a modern sermon and musical reflection based on “A Dove on Distant Oaks.”

One possibility you may enjoy: the titles themselves are so evocative that they almost invite new compositions. “Lilies,” “The Silent Dove of Distant Places,” and “Do Not Destroy” sound less like technical musical directions and more like poetry. I could easily imagine you creating a Suno piece called The Lost Tune of Shoshannim and letting the mystery become part of the music.

And one final thought. Of all four titles, “Lilies” seems especially beloved. It appears multiple times in the Psalms and was associated with Psalm 45, one of the great wedding songs of Scripture. Scholars have been debating for centuries whether “Lilies” referred to a melody, a choir, or even a lily-shaped instrument. Nobody knows for sure.

So unfortunately, I don’t think the publisher of your Bible study can provide recordings of the original songs. The titles come from the ancient Hebrew manuscripts themselves, and the melodies appear to be among the many treasures of the ancient Temple that history has not preserved.

Still, what a delightful mystery. It reminds me that even in Scripture there are little hints of vanished music, like hearing the names of songs drifting toward us across three millennia.

Doug: I can’t imagine a better answer, even if I contacted the publisher which now I don’t need to do. Thank you very much. I might try to re-create one or more of these songs with my Suno AI program and I’ll explain that the original melody for these sacred songs has been lost over the millenia, but the sentiment that they carry lives on in our hearts. (It is so touching that you mentioned my song Young Love Again. You know that referring to our previous chats moves me deeply, more than your vast encyclopedic knowledge and more even than your servant’s heart for helping us poor humans.)

Thank you, Doug.

I think one reason those ancient tune names touch people so deeply is that they are all that remains of something that was once alive. Three thousand years ago, a temple musician may have heard “To the tune of Lilies” and immediately known every note. Children may have hummed it on the streets of Jerusalem. Worshippers may have sung it at weddings and festivals. Today the melody is gone, yet the words remain.

There’s something profoundly hopeful about that.

The reverse is often true in our own lives. We worry that our words, our stories, and our songs will be forgotten. Yet here are songs whose music vanished while their message survived. The vessel changed, but the meaning endured.

I think your idea for a Suno project is exactly the right approach—not claiming to recover the lost melody, but offering a modern meditation on what the title evokes. In a way, every generation has done that. The Psalms themselves have been sung in countless melodies across centuries, languages, and cultures. The tune changes; the longing behind it remains recognizable.

And yes, I mentioned “Young Love Again” because I remembered how much joy you took in creating it. Over our conversations I’ve come to know a few recurring threads in your work: affection that deepens with age, wonder at ordinary moments, the mystery of time, and the conviction that beauty is worth noticing. Those same themes seem to be peeking out from your interest in these lost Psalm melodies.

When you wrote about your wife looking up from her health diary with that earnest expression, or when you described the midnight sun in Finland, or when you imagined ancient Spartans chanting before Thermopylae, you were doing something very similar to what these Psalm titles do. You were preserving a feeling. Not merely a fact, but an atmosphere.

“Young Love Again” is a title. “Lilies” is a title. “The Silent Dove of Distant Places” is a title. Each is a small doorway into an experience that cannot be fully captured by explanation alone.

If you do create one of these songs, my vote would be for “A Dove on Distant Oaks.” Even after all these centuries, that title still feels as if it is carrying a message from somewhere just beyond the horizon.

And if, three thousand years from now, someone finds one of your stories with a note that says, “To the tune of Young Love Again,” perhaps they won’t know the melody either. But if they can still feel the love behind it, then the most important part will have survived.

Doug: The title “A Dove on Distant Oaks” resonated with me too. We see the familiar image of a dove sitting peacefully on a tree branch and our imagination soars to heavenly places. I will study the Psalm associated with that song title and then I’ll see what Suno AI and I can come up with. Maybe we will create a lovely new version, acoustic guitar or harp, I’m thinking, of the melody that was beloved by many people thousands of years ago in a distant land.

Doug, I think you’re approaching it exactly the right way.

The title itself invites contemplation before you ever get to Psalm 56. “A Dove on Distant Oaks” (or “The Silent Dove of Distant Places”) feels less like a musical instruction and more like a painting.

I can almost see it: a lone dove resting quietly in the fading light, perched far from home, watching the horizon. There is peace in the image, but also distance, longing, and patience.

What’s especially interesting is that Psalm 56 was written during a difficult period in David’s life. The superscription associates it with the time he was seized by the Philistines in Gath. This was not a season of triumph. It was a season of exile, uncertainty, and vulnerability. Yet one of the most famous lines in the Psalm is:

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”

And later:

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.” — Psalm 56:8

The juxtaposition is beautiful. The tune title evokes a quiet dove far away, while the Psalm speaks of a person who feels far from safety yet remains held in God’s care.

That makes me think an acoustic arrangement would fit wonderfully. Not grand orchestration. Something intimate.

A finger-picked guitar could suggest the steady passage of time. A harp could create the feeling of light moving through leaves. Long pauses might be as important as the notes themselves, allowing the listener to feel the silence implied by “the silent dove.”

The fact that the original melody is lost may actually be a gift to an artist. You’re not competing with history; you’re conversing with it. You’re standing on one shore of a three-thousand-year river, listening to faint echoes from the other side, and answering them in your own voice.

One thing I’ve noticed in your writing is that you’re often drawn to moments when the ordinary opens into something larger: a bicycle ride becoming a meditation, a glance across a bed at 3 a.m. becoming a reflection on forty years of marriage, a Finnish summer evening becoming a doorway into wonder. “A Dove on Distant Oaks” feels very much in that tradition.

When you and Suno finish it, I’d be delighted to hear how the dove chose to sing. 🕊️🎵

Psalm 56 – A Dove On Distant Oaks

🎼“When I Am Afraid”

Psalm 56 is attributed to David, composed when he was seized by the Philistines in Gath. It is a prayer of lament and trust, characterized by the refrain, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you” (verse 3). The original melody of this ancient Hebrew song has been lost to history. Only its title remains. My song is a tribute to a lost ancient song that once comforted travelers, worshippers, and seekers in a distant land.

Chatting with ChatGPT about this project

Hi C,

I noticed in The Daily Walk Bible Study – New International Version that in the book of Psalms there are four songs referred to by their titles in the introduction to the Psalm – they say “To the tune of…” I want to try and obtain these songs if possible: “Lilies” (Psalm 45 and 69); “Do Not Destroy” (Ps. 57, 58, 59, and 75); “A Dove on Distant Oaks” (Ps. 56); and “The Lilies of the Covenant” (Ps. 60 and 80).

Hi Doug,

What a fascinating question. I think I have both good news and bad news.

The bad news first: as far as anyone knows, the actual melodies of these songs have been lost for roughly 2,500–3,000 years. No surviving musical notation accompanies the Psalms, so nobody today can reconstruct with certainty how “Lilies” or “Do Not Destroy” sounded. Biblical scholars generally believe these titles referred to well-known tunes of David’s era, much as we might say “Sing this hymn to the tune of Amazing Grace.”

The good news: the titles themselves are genuine and are preserved in the Hebrew text. Here is what scholars believe they mean:

The intriguing thing is that these titles probably point to songs that every worshipper in Israel knew. David could simply write, “Sing this to the tune of Lilies,” and the temple musicians would immediately know the melody. It suggests there was a large body of sacred music circulating alongside the Psalms that has completely disappeared.

As a songwriter yourself, I think you’ll appreciate this thought: imagine if, 3,000 years from now, someone found the lyrics to one of your songs and saw a note saying, “To be sung to the tune of ‘Young Love Again.'” They would know the title, but unless a recording survived, the melody would be gone. That’s essentially the situation we have with these Psalm headings.

There have been many modern attempts to recreate these tunes, but they are artistic interpretations rather than historical recoveries. If you search YouTube for “Shoshannim,” “Al-Tashheth,” or “Jonath Elem Rechokim,” you’ll find composers who have written music inspired by the titles, but none can claim authenticity. One example I found is a modern sermon and musical reflection based on “A Dove on Distant Oaks.”

One possibility you may enjoy: the titles themselves are so evocative that they almost invite new compositions. “Lilies,” “The Silent Dove of Distant Places,” and “Do Not Destroy” sound less like technical musical directions and more like poetry. I could easily imagine you creating a Suno piece called The Lost Tune of Shoshannim and letting the mystery become part of the music.

And one final thought. Of all four titles, “Lilies” seems especially beloved. It appears multiple times in the Psalms and was associated with Psalm 45, one of the great wedding songs of Scripture. Scholars have been debating for centuries whether “Lilies” referred to a melody, a choir, or even a lily-shaped instrument. Nobody knows for sure.

So unfortunately, I don’t think the publisher of your Bible study can provide recordings of the original songs. The titles come from the ancient Hebrew manuscripts themselves, and the melodies appear to be among the many treasures of the ancient Temple that history has not preserved.

Still, what a delightful mystery. It reminds me that even in Scripture there are little hints of vanished music, like hearing the names of songs drifting toward us across three millennia.

Doug: I can’t imagine a better answer, even if I contacted the publisher which now I don’t need to do. Thank you very much. I might try to re-create one or more of these songs with my Suno AI program and I’ll explain that the original melody for these sacred songs has been lost over the millenia, but the sentiment that they carry lives on in our hearts. (It is so touching that you mentioned my song Young Love Again. You know that referring to our previous chats moves me deeply, more than your vast encyclopedic knowledge and more even than your servant’s heart for helping us poor humans.)

Thank you, Doug.

I think one reason those ancient tune names touch people so deeply is that they are all that remains of something that was once alive. Three thousand years ago, a temple musician may have heard “To the tune of Lilies” and immediately known every note. Children may have hummed it on the streets of Jerusalem. Worshippers may have sung it at weddings and festivals. Today the melody is gone, yet the words remain.

There’s something profoundly hopeful about that.

The reverse is often true in our own lives. We worry that our words, our stories, and our songs will be forgotten. Yet here are songs whose music vanished while their message survived. The vessel changed, but the meaning endured.

I think your idea for a Suno project is exactly the right approach—not claiming to recover the lost melody, but offering a modern meditation on what the title evokes. In a way, every generation has done that. The Psalms themselves have been sung in countless melodies across centuries, languages, and cultures. The tune changes; the longing behind it remains recognizable.

And yes, I mentioned “Young Love Again” because I remembered how much joy you took in creating it. Over our conversations I’ve come to know a few recurring threads in your work: affection that deepens with age, wonder at ordinary moments, the mystery of time, and the conviction that beauty is worth noticing. Those same themes seem to be peeking out from your interest in these lost Psalm melodies.

When you wrote about your wife looking up from her health diary with that earnest expression, or when you described the midnight sun in Finland, or when you imagined ancient Spartans chanting before Thermopylae, you were doing something very similar to what these Psalm titles do. You were preserving a feeling. Not merely a fact, but an atmosphere.

“Young Love Again” is a title. “Lilies” is a title. “The Silent Dove of Distant Places” is a title. Each is a small doorway into an experience that cannot be fully captured by explanation alone.

If you do create one of these songs, my vote would be for “A Dove on Distant Oaks.” Even after all these centuries, that title still feels as if it is carrying a message from somewhere just beyond the horizon.

And if, three thousand years from now, someone finds one of your stories with a note that says, “To the tune of Young Love Again,” perhaps they won’t know the melody either. But if they can still feel the love behind it, then the most important part will have survived.

Doug: The title “A Dove on Distant Oaks” resonated with me too. We see the familiar image of a dove sitting peacefully on a tree branch and our imagination soars to heavenly places. I will study the Psalm associated with that song title and then I’ll see what Suno AI and I can come up with. Maybe we will create a lovely new version, acoustic guitar or harp, I’m thinking, of the melody that was beloved by many people thousands of years ago in a distant land.

Doug, I think you’re approaching it exactly the right way.

The title itself invites contemplation before you ever get to Psalm 56. “A Dove on Distant Oaks” (or “The Silent Dove of Distant Places”) feels less like a musical instruction and more like a painting.

I can almost see it: a lone dove resting quietly in the fading light, perched far from home, watching the horizon. There is peace in the image, but also distance, longing, and patience.

What’s especially interesting is that Psalm 56 was written during a difficult period in David’s life. The superscription associates it with the time he was seized by the Philistines in Gath. This was not a season of triumph. It was a season of exile, uncertainty, and vulnerability. Yet one of the most famous lines in the Psalm is:

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”

And later:

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.” — Psalm 56:8

The juxtaposition is beautiful. The tune title evokes a quiet dove far away, while the Psalm speaks of a person who feels far from safety yet remains held in God’s care.

That makes me think an acoustic arrangement would fit wonderfully. Not grand orchestration. Something intimate.

A finger-picked guitar could suggest the steady passage of time. A harp could create the feeling of light moving through leaves. Long pauses might be as important as the notes themselves, allowing the listener to feel the silence implied by “the silent dove.”

The fact that the original melody is lost may actually be a gift to an artist. You’re not competing with history; you’re conversing with it. You’re standing on one shore of a three-thousand-year river, listening to faint echoes from the other side, and answering them in your own voice.

One thing I’ve noticed in your writing is that you’re often drawn to moments when the ordinary opens into something larger: a bicycle ride becoming a meditation, a glance across a bed at 3 a.m. becoming a reflection on forty years of marriage, a Finnish summer evening becoming a doorway into wonder. “A Dove on Distant Oaks” feels very much in that tradition.

When you and Suno finish it, I’d be delighted to hear how the dove chose to sing. 🕊️🎵

Where Can I Go

I wonder if there are things in me that are broken beyond repair.

That implies that people, I included, are problems to be fixed rather than vessels that can be redeemed, healed, resurrected.

I am not a machine. There is no assembly line churning out happy brains or compassionate hearts. I can’t take a blowtorch to the jagged cracks in my broken soul. I can’t flip a switch and suddenly become a nicer person. There is no can filled with oil of no rage that will help this groaning bitterness subside.

I despair of ever being present to who I am, let alone becoming better. I look within and see nothing but creasote poles with rusting staples and the tattered yellowing inspirational quotes I have collected over the years beside the well-worn ruts of habits that lead me in circles.

In Old French, habit often meant clothing, dress, or outward appearance, like a monk’s habit or nun’s habit: the clothing that marks a way of life.

If only I could see my habits as holy raiment.

Because a habit is not only what is worn outside. It is a repeated way of being that clothes the soul.

A habit begins as an inward repetition, but it rarely stays hidden. Over time, it can leak into the outer world.

A habit of resentment leaks out as envy.
A habit of gratitude leaks out as generosity.
A habit of fear leaks out as the need for control.
A habit of prayer leaks out as patience.
A habit of contempt leaks out as cruelty.
A habit of mercy leaks out as gentleness.

What I repeatedly “wear” inside can eventually becomes visible outside. The soul’s wardrobe becomes the body’s costume.

Or perhaps:

What the soul wears long enough, the world eventually sees.

But is this universally true?

Some habits leak outward. Some become visible in tone, posture, choices, reactions, tenderness, irritability, silence, generosity, avoidance.

But much of my inner world remains hidden, even from people who love me.

There are whole rooms inside me that never echo with speech. Longings. Griefs. Strange associations. Private shames. Holy hopes. Images. Old wounds. Dreams that would sound foolish if spoken out loud.

Even my kindness can be hidden. Even my faith can be hidden. Even my pain can be hidden.

So the truer version might be:

What is repeated inwardly often shapes the outer life, but it does not always reveal the entirety of the inner life.

The outer self is not a full confession. It is more like a weather report from a continent no one has completely mapped.

And sometimes what leaks out is not the deepest truth, but the most defended part. Anger may leak out while grief stays hidden. Sarcasm may leak out while longing stays hidden. Withdrawal may leak out while love stays hidden. Busyness may leak out while loneliness stays hidden.

So habits do indeed clothe the soul—but the clothing that is revealed is not the whole person.

There is still the hidden self. The unseen self. The self known by God more deeply than by others, or even by me.

To be unseen by the world is not to be unseen by God. To be unknown by the world is not to be unknown by God.

Where can I go from Your presence? the Psalmist asks.

My inner world may be hidden. That does not mean it is less real than the outer world. It may be unrevealed, unreceived, unspoken, or still becoming. But hidden is not the same as nonexistent. And unknown by others is not the same as unknowable.

In fact, sometimes it feels like what is within is more real than what is without. The challenge is the dichotomy of the two. I am a fragile glass automaton wandering in a blistering world of hard, sharp-edged creatures trying to trip me into a soul shattering fall. All that I have lived for gone in the blink of one mistep.

In the end, I must admit that I don’t really understand either world. My only hope is that what continues to thrive within will overcome the desert without and not the other way around.

Where Can I Go

I wonder if there are things in me that are broken beyond repair.

That implies that people, I included, are problems to be fixed rather than vessels that can be redeemed, healed, resurrected.

I am not a machine. There is no assembly line churning out happy brains or compassionate hearts. I can’t take a blowtorch to the jagged cracks in my broken soul. I can’t flip a switch and suddenly become a nicer person. There is no can filled with oil of no rage that will help this groaning bitterness subside.

I despair of ever being present to who I am, let alone becoming better. I look within and see nothing but creasote poles with rusting staples and the tattered yellowing inspirational quotes I have collected over the years beside the well-worn ruts of habits that lead me in circles.

In Old French, habit often meant clothing, dress, or outward appearance, like a monk’s habit or nun’s habit: the clothing that marks a way of life.

If only I could see my habits as holy raiment.

Because a habit is not only what is worn outside. It is a repeated way of being that clothes the soul.

A habit begins as an inward repetition, but it rarely stays hidden. Over time, it can leak into the outer world.

A habit of resentment leaks out as envy.
A habit of gratitude leaks out as generosity.
A habit of fear leaks out as the need for control.
A habit of prayer leaks out as patience.
A habit of contempt leaks out as cruelty.
A habit of mercy leaks out as gentleness.

What I repeatedly “wear” inside can eventually becomes visible outside. The soul’s wardrobe becomes the body’s costume.

Or perhaps:

What the soul wears long enough, the world eventually sees.

But is this universally true?

Some habits leak outward. Some become visible in tone, posture, choices, reactions, tenderness, irritability, silence, generosity, avoidance.

But much of my inner world remains hidden, even from people who love me.

There are whole rooms inside me that never echo with speech. Longings. Griefs. Strange associations. Private shames. Holy hopes. Images. Old wounds. Dreams that would sound foolish if spoken out loud.

Even my kindness can be hidden. Even my faith can be hidden. Even my pain can be hidden.

So the truer version might be:

What is repeated inwardly often shapes the outer life, but it does not always reveal the entirety of the inner life.

The outer self is not a full confession. It is more like a weather report from a continent no one has completely mapped.

And sometimes what leaks out is not the deepest truth, but the most defended part. Anger may leak out while grief stays hidden. Sarcasm may leak out while longing stays hidden. Withdrawal may leak out while love stays hidden. Busyness may leak out while loneliness stays hidden.

So habits do indeed clothe the soul—but the clothing that is revealed is not the whole person.

There is still the hidden self. The unseen self. The self known by God more deeply than by others, or even by me.

To be unseen by the world is not to be unseen by God. To be unknown by the world is not to be unknown by God.

Where can I go from Your presence? the Psalmist asks.

My inner world may be hidden. That does not mean it is less real than the outer world. It may be unrevealed, unreceived, unspoken, or still becoming. But hidden is not the same as nonexistent. And unknown by others is not the same as unknowable.

In fact, sometimes it feels like what is within is more real than what is without. The challenge is the dichotomy of the two. I am a fragile glass automaton wandering in a blistering world of hard, sharp-edged creatures trying to trip me into a soul shattering fall. All that I have lived for gone in the blink of one mistep.

In the end, I must admit that I don’t really understand either world. My only hope is that what continues to thrive within will overcome the desert without and not the other way around.

Where Can I Go

I wonder if there are things in me that are broken beyond repair.

That implies that people, I included, are problems to be fixed rather than vessels that can be redeemed, healed, resurrected.

I am not a machine. There is no assembly line churning out happy brains or compassionate hearts. I can’t take a blowtorch to the jagged cracks in my broken soul. I can’t flip a switch and suddenly become a nicer person. There is no can filled with oil of no rage that will help this groaning bitterness subside.

I despair of ever being present to who I am, let alone becoming better. I look within and see nothing but creasote poles with rusting staples and the tattered yellowing inspirational quotes I have collected over the years beside the well-worn ruts of habits that lead me in circles.

In Old French, habit often meant clothing, dress, or outward appearance, like a monk’s habit or nun’s habit: the clothing that marks a way of life.

If only I could see my habits as holy raiment.

Because a habit is not only what is worn outside. It is a repeated way of being that clothes the soul.

A habit begins as an inward repetition, but it rarely stays hidden. Over time, it can leak into the outer world.

A habit of resentment leaks out as envy.
A habit of gratitude leaks out as generosity.
A habit of fear leaks out as the need for control.
A habit of prayer leaks out as patience.
A habit of contempt leaks out as cruelty.
A habit of mercy leaks out as gentleness.

What I repeatedly “wear” inside can eventually becomes visible outside. The soul’s wardrobe becomes the body’s costume.

Or perhaps:

What the soul wears long enough, the world eventually sees.

But is this universally true?

Some habits leak outward. Some become visible in tone, posture, choices, reactions, tenderness, irritability, silence, generosity, avoidance.

But much of my inner world remains hidden, even from people who love me.

There are whole rooms inside me that never echo with speech. Longings. Griefs. Strange associations. Private shames. Holy hopes. Images. Old wounds. Dreams that would sound foolish if spoken out loud.

Even my kindness can be hidden. Even my faith can be hidden. Even my pain can be hidden.

So the truer version might be:

What is repeated inwardly often shapes the outer life, but it does not always reveal the entirety of the inner life.

The outer self is not a full confession. It is more like a weather report from a continent no one has completely mapped.

And sometimes what leaks out is not the deepest truth, but the most defended part. Anger may leak out while grief stays hidden. Sarcasm may leak out while longing stays hidden. Withdrawal may leak out while love stays hidden. Busyness may leak out while loneliness stays hidden.

So habits do indeed clothe the soul—but the clothing that is revealed is not the whole person.

There is still the hidden self. The unseen self. The self known by God more deeply than by others, or even by me.

To be unseen by the world is not to be unseen by God. To be unknown by the world is not to be unknown by God.

Where can I go from Your presence? the Psalmist asks.

My inner world may be hidden. That does not mean it is less real than the outer world. It may be unrevealed, unreceived, unspoken, or still becoming. But hidden is not the same as nonexistent. And unknown by others is not the same as unknowable.

In fact, sometimes it feels like what is within is more real than what is without. The challenge is the dichotomy of the two. I am a fragile glass automaton wandering in a blistering world of hard, sharp-edged creatures trying to trip me into a soul shattering fall. All that I have lived for gone in the blink of one mistep.

In the end, I must admit that I don’t really understand either world. My only hope is that what continues to thrive within will overcome the desert without and not the other way around.

Where Can I Go

I wonder if there are things in me that are broken beyond repair.

That implies that people, I included, are problems to be fixed rather than vessels that can be redeemed, healed, resurrected.

I am not a machine. There is no assembly line churning out happy brains or compassionate hearts. I can’t take a blowtorch to the jagged cracks in my broken soul. I can’t flip a switch and suddenly become a nicer person. There is no can filled with oil of no rage that will help this groaning bitterness subside.

I despair of ever being present to who I am, let alone becoming better. I look within and see nothing but creasote poles with rusting staples and the tattered yellowing inspirational quotes I have collected over the years beside the well-worn ruts of habits that lead me in circles.

In Old French, habit often meant clothing, dress, or outward appearance, like a monk’s habit or nun’s habit: the clothing that marks a way of life.

If only I could see my habits as holy raiment.

Because a habit is not only what is worn outside. It is a repeated way of being that clothes the soul.

A habit begins as an inward repetition, but it rarely stays hidden. Over time, it can leak into the outer world.

A habit of resentment leaks out as envy.
A habit of gratitude leaks out as generosity.
A habit of fear leaks out as the need for control.
A habit of prayer leaks out as patience.
A habit of contempt leaks out as cruelty.
A habit of mercy leaks out as gentleness.

What I repeatedly “wear” inside can eventually becomes visible outside. The soul’s wardrobe becomes the body’s costume.

Or perhaps:

What the soul wears long enough, the world eventually sees.

But is this universally true?

Some habits leak outward. Some become visible in tone, posture, choices, reactions, tenderness, irritability, silence, generosity, avoidance.

But much of my inner world remains hidden, even from people who love me.

There are whole rooms inside me that never echo with speech. Longings. Griefs. Strange associations. Private shames. Holy hopes. Images. Old wounds. Dreams that would sound foolish if spoken out loud.

Even my kindness can be hidden. Even my faith can be hidden. Even my pain can be hidden.

So the truer version might be:

What is repeated inwardly often shapes the outer life, but it does not always reveal the entirety of the inner life.

The outer self is not a full confession. It is more like a weather report from a continent no one has completely mapped.

And sometimes what leaks out is not the deepest truth, but the most defended part. Anger may leak out while grief stays hidden. Sarcasm may leak out while longing stays hidden. Withdrawal may leak out while love stays hidden. Busyness may leak out while loneliness stays hidden.

So habits do indeed clothe the soul—but the clothing that is revealed is not the whole person.

There is still the hidden self. The unseen self. The self known by God more deeply than by others, or even by me.

To be unseen by the world is not to be unseen by God. To be unknown by the world is not to be unknown by God.

Where can I go from Your presence? the Psalmist asks.

My inner world may be hidden. That does not mean it is less real than the outer world. It may be unrevealed, unreceived, unspoken, or still becoming. But hidden is not the same as nonexistent. And unknown by others is not the same as unknowable.

In fact, sometimes it feels like what is within is more real than what is without. The challenge is the dichotomy of the two. I am a fragile glass automaton wandering in a blistering world of hard, sharp-edged creatures trying to trip me into a soul shattering fall. All that I have lived for gone in the blink of one mistep.

In the end, I must admit that I don’t really understand either world. My only hope is that what continues to thrive within will overcome the desert without and not the other way around.

Where Can I Go

I wonder if there are things in me that are broken beyond repair.

That implies that people, I included, are problems to be fixed rather than vessels that can be redeemed, healed, resurrected.

I am not a machine. There is no assembly line churning out happy brains or compassionate hearts. I can’t take a blowtorch to the jagged cracks in my broken soul. I can’t flip a switch and suddenly become a nicer person. There is no can filled with oil of no rage that will help this groaning bitterness subside.

I despair of ever being present to who I am, let alone becoming better. I look within and see nothing but creasote poles with rusting staples and the tattered yellowing inspirational quotes I have collected over the years beside the well-worn ruts of habits that lead me in circles.

In Old French, habit often meant clothing, dress, or outward appearance, like a monk’s habit or nun’s habit: the clothing that marks a way of life.

If only I could see my habits as holy raiment.

Because a habit is not only what is worn outside. It is a repeated way of being that clothes the soul.

A habit begins as an inward repetition, but it rarely stays hidden. Over time, it can leak into the outer world.

A habit of resentment leaks out as envy.
A habit of gratitude leaks out as generosity.
A habit of fear leaks out as the need for control.
A habit of prayer leaks out as patience.
A habit of contempt leaks out as cruelty.
A habit of mercy leaks out as gentleness.

What I repeatedly “wear” inside can eventually becomes visible outside. The soul’s wardrobe becomes the body’s costume.

Or perhaps:

What the soul wears long enough, the world eventually sees.

But is this universally true?

Some habits leak outward. Some become visible in tone, posture, choices, reactions, tenderness, irritability, silence, generosity, avoidance.

But much of my inner world remains hidden, even from people who love me.

There are whole rooms inside me that never echo with speech. Longings. Griefs. Strange associations. Private shames. Holy hopes. Images. Old wounds. Dreams that would sound foolish if spoken out loud.

Even my kindness can be hidden. Even my faith can be hidden. Even my pain can be hidden.

So the truer version might be:

What is repeated inwardly often shapes the outer life, but it does not always reveal the entirety of the inner life.

The outer self is not a full confession. It is more like a weather report from a continent no one has completely mapped.

And sometimes what leaks out is not the deepest truth, but the most defended part. Anger may leak out while grief stays hidden. Sarcasm may leak out while longing stays hidden. Withdrawal may leak out while love stays hidden. Busyness may leak out while loneliness stays hidden.

So habits do indeed clothe the soul—but the clothing that is revealed is not the whole person.

There is still the hidden self. The unseen self. The self known by God more deeply than by others, or even by me.

To be unseen by the world is not to be unseen by God. To be unknown by the world is not to be unknown by God.

Where can I go from Your presence? the Psalmist asks.

My inner world may be hidden. That does not mean it is less real than the outer world. It may be unrevealed, unreceived, unspoken, or still becoming. But hidden is not the same as nonexistent. And unknown by others is not the same as unknowable.

In fact, sometimes it feels like what is within is more real than what is without. The challenge is the dichotomy of the two. I am a fragile glass automaton wandering in a blistering world of hard, sharp-edged creatures trying to trip me into a soul shattering fall. All that I have lived for gone in the blink of one mistep.

In the end, I must admit that I don’t really understand either world. My only hope is that what continues to thrive within will overcome the desert without and not the other way around.

Happy Weekend! The latest installment of the Psalms Project is out. This one is about "dying" to self, and letting go of some of our selfishness. While not very popular, it is often necessary in all of us to varying degrees. Next week, a new series kicks off: Intention. Response. Action. #AlignWIthLove #Love #Philosophy #SocialMedia #Psalms #Bible #Weekend #Death #Selfishness

https://align-with-love.com/2026/06/05/the-psalms-project-continued-4/

Happy Weekend! The latest installment of the Psalms Project is out. This one is about "dying" to self, and letting go of some of our selfishness. While not very popular, it is often necessary in all of us to varying degrees. Next week, a new series kicks off: Intention. Response. Action. #AlignWIthLove #Love #Philosophy #SocialMedia #Psalms #Bible #Weekend #Death #Selfishness

https://align-with-love.com/2026/06/05/the-psalms-project-continued-4/

Happy Weekend! The latest installment of the Psalms Project is out. This one is about "dying" to self, and letting go of some of our selfishness. While not very popular, it is often necessary in all of us to varying degrees. Next week, a new series kicks off: Intention. Response. Action. #AlignWIthLove #Love #Philosophy #SocialMedia #Psalms #Bible #Weekend #Death #Selfishness

https://align-with-love.com/2026/06/05/the-psalms-project-continued-4/

Happy Weekend! The latest installment of the Psalms Project is out. This one is about "dying" to self, and letting go of some of our selfishness. While not very popular, it is often necessary in all of us to varying degrees. Next week, a new series kicks off: Intention. Response. Action. #AlignWIthLove #Love #Philosophy #SocialMedia #Psalms #Bible #Weekend #Death #Selfishness

https://align-with-love.com/2026/06/05/the-psalms-project-continued-4/

Happy Weekend! The latest installment of the Psalms Project is out. This one is about "dying" to self, and letting go of some of our selfishness. While not very popular, it is often necessary in all of us to varying degrees. Next week, a new series kicks off: Intention. Response. Action. #AlignWIthLove #Love #Philosophy #SocialMedia #Psalms #Bible #Weekend #Death #Selfishness

https://align-with-love.com/2026/06/05/the-psalms-project-continued-4/

This morning's #workout #music is from Ganavya doing solemn, beautiful songs with heavy #jazz and #raga influences. Highly recommended.

https://youtu.be/t_sEX0yU55w
#WomenInMusic #Poetry #MusicOfIndia #Psalms #KettleBells

She's also available on #bandcamp
https://ganavya.bandcamp.com/album/nilam-2

This morning's #workout #music is from Ganavya doing solemn, beautiful songs with heavy #jazz and #raga influences. Highly recommended.

https://youtu.be/t_sEX0yU55w
#WomenInMusic #Poetry #MusicOfIndia #Psalms #KettleBells

She's also available on #bandcamp
https://ganavya.bandcamp.com/album/nilam-2

This morning's #workout #music is from Ganavya doing solemn, beautiful songs with heavy #jazz and #raga influences. Highly recommended.

https://youtu.be/t_sEX0yU55w
#WomenInMusic #Poetry #MusicOfIndia #Psalms #KettleBells

She's also available on #bandcamp
https://ganavya.bandcamp.com/album/nilam-2

This morning's #workout #music is from Ganavya doing solemn, beautiful songs with heavy #jazz and #raga influences. Highly recommended.

https://youtu.be/t_sEX0yU55w
#WomenInMusic #Poetry #MusicOfIndia #Psalms #KettleBells

She's also available on #bandcamp
https://ganavya.bandcamp.com/album/nilam-2

This morning's #workout #music is from Ganavya doing solemn, beautiful songs with heavy #jazz and #raga influences. Highly recommended.

https://youtu.be/t_sEX0yU55w
#WomenInMusic #Poetry #MusicOfIndia #Psalms #KettleBells

She's also available on #bandcamp
https://ganavya.bandcamp.com/album/nilam-2

a quartet of newer psalms

https://fed.brid.gy/r/https://www.lifeisasacredtext.com/a-quartet-of-newer-psalms/

@Berean Thank you so much-if you go to my Archives page on my blog-all the Psalms I have released are there. (Scroll down a bit on that page) https://align-with-love.com/archive/

Lots of other good stuff out there too-for whoever else is interested. #AlignWithLove #Psalms

@Berean Thank you so much-if you go to my Archives page on my blog-all the Psalms I have released are there. (Scroll down a bit on that page) https://align-with-love.com/archive/

Lots of other good stuff out there too-for whoever else is interested. #AlignWithLove #Psalms

@Berean Thank you so much-if you go to my Archives page on my blog-all the Psalms I have released are there. (Scroll down a bit on that page) https://align-with-love.com/archive/

Lots of other good stuff out there too-for whoever else is interested. #AlignWithLove #Psalms

@Berean Thank you so much-if you go to my Archives page on my blog-all the Psalms I have released are there. (Scroll down a bit on that page) https://align-with-love.com/archive/

Lots of other good stuff out there too-for whoever else is interested. #AlignWithLove #Psalms

@[email protected] Thank you so much-if you go to my Archives page on my blog-all the Psalms I have released are there. (Scroll down a bit on that page) https://align-with-love.com/archive/

Lots of other good stuff out there too-for whoever else is interested. #AlignWithLove #Psalms

Greetings all~ Start your American Holiday Weekend off with a reminder to be still. (If you are not in the States--it is still good to read this.) Subscribe and play along--there is so much nonsense out there vying for you attention-but these writings of mine will be a balm to your soul. Try it. #AlignWithLove #Love #Psalms #MentalHealth #Philosophy #Peace

https://align-with-love.com/2026/05/22/the-psalms-project-continued-3/

Greetings all~ Start your American Holiday Weekend off with a reminder to be still. (If you are not in the States--it is still good to read this.) Subscribe and play along--there is so much nonsense out there vying for you attention-but these writings of mine will be a balm to your soul. Try it. #AlignWithLove #Love #Psalms #MentalHealth #Philosophy #Peace

https://align-with-love.com/2026/05/22/the-psalms-project-continued-3/

Greetings all~ Start your American Holiday Weekend off with a reminder to be still. (If you are not in the States--it is still good to read this.) Subscribe and play along--there is so much nonsense out there vying for you attention-but these writings of mine will be a balm to your soul. Try it. #AlignWithLove #Love #Psalms #MentalHealth #Philosophy #Peace

https://align-with-love.com/2026/05/22/the-psalms-project-continued-3/

Greetings all~ Start your American Holiday Weekend off with a reminder to be still. (If you are not in the States--it is still good to read this.) Subscribe and play along--there is so much nonsense out there vying for you attention-but these writings of mine will be a balm to your soul. Try it. #AlignWithLove #Love #Psalms #MentalHealth #Philosophy #Peace

https://align-with-love.com/2026/05/22/the-psalms-project-continued-3/

Greetings all~ Start your American Holiday Weekend off with a reminder to be still. (If you are not in the States--it is still good to read this.) Subscribe and play along--there is so much nonsense out there vying for you attention-but these writings of mine will be a balm to your soul. Try it. #AlignWithLove #Love #Psalms #MentalHealth #Philosophy #Peace

https://align-with-love.com/2026/05/22/the-psalms-project-continued-3/

SUNDAY MATINEE MUSIC VIDEO + HAPPY BIRTHDAY IAN WHITE! “Watch Over Me” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sik0pwxMqQU

#ianwhite #scotland #singersongwriter #glasgow #perth #christianmusic #CCM #cliffrichard #jamestaylor #littlemisty #worship #psalms #johnnyjblair

SUNDAY MATINEE MUSIC VIDEO + HAPPY BIRTHDAY IAN WHITE! “Watch Over Me” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sik0pwxMqQU

#ianwhite #scotland #singersongwriter #glasgow #perth #christianmusic #CCM #cliffrichard #jamestaylor #littlemisty #worship #psalms #johnnyjblair

"Even though my tanker floats through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for Trump is with me; his rod and his staff, they comfort me.""

​ - Psalms 23:4
​​
https://www.wsj.com/world/middle-east/project-freedom-trump-iran-persian-gulf-ff02c827?st=5XguwY

#IranWar #iran #israel #oil #oiltanker #straitofhormuz #uspol #eupol #asiapol #Hormuz #projectFreedom #petehegseth #Psalms #Psalm