זָמִיר

These are the last words of David: “The oracle of David son of Jesse, the oracle of the man raised on high, the one anointed by the God of Jacob, and the sweet psalmist of Israel:

But no one asks, ‘Where is God my Maker, who gives us songs in the night,

Let us enter His presence with thanksgiving; let us make a joyful noise to Him in song.

Your statutes are songs to me in the house of my pilgrimage.

From the ends of the earth we hear singing: “Glory to the Righteous One.” But I said, “I am wasting away! I am wasting away! Woe is me.” The treacherous betray; the treacherous deal in treachery.

…like heat in a dry land. You subdue the uproar of foreigners. As the shade of a cloud cools the heat, so the song of the ruthless is silenced.