They Have Not Prevailed

Today’s poem is inspired by a song found in a collection of songs which were sung by pilgrims as they traveled from their homes to worship at the Temple in Jerusalem. The collector and organizer of the book of the psalms titles each of these fifteen psalms “songs of ascent” because in traveling to Jerusalem, you are ascending not only the Judean highlands, but you are climbing Mount Zion. This is why when a person going to Jerusalem, even if they are traveling from the north in Galilee, is said to be “going up to Jerusalem.”

The Songs of Ascent contain the themes of pilgrimage: what inspires a person to set out, what struggles they may face in their journey, what encouragement they may need to continue, and the hope of the experience when they arrive. Psalm 129 speaks particularly to the endurance needed to persevere in the Pilgrim journey. It begins,

“Greatly have they afflicted me from my youth”
      — let Israel now say—
“Greatly have they afflicted me from my youth,
     yet they have not prevailed against me.
The plowers plowed upon my back;
     they made long their furrows.”     -- Psalm 129:1-3

It’s powerful psalm which is itself an act of defiant resistance in the face of oppression. You can imagine those being taken into captivity by Babylon and the mocking of the nations as they are being deported from their homeland. How, in such a moment, are you going to persevere in faith? Well, you need a walking song.

Here’s my response to Psalm 129. I hope it helps you as fight the good fight of faith today.

The poem is titled, “They Have Not Prevailed.”

Since my youth, they have afflicted me--
Foremen who furrowed my flesh of life,
Who scourged, whipped, beat, and knifed--
The plowers who plowed in red.

Let all those trodden upon and left for dead
Say it with me. Say it with me!
"Though greatly afflicted, yet they have not,
They have not prevailed over me!"

Let the deeds they sow, though they sprout and grow,
Wilt, wither, and waste in the sun's heat;
Let their garnered glory fade in defeat,
Leave them nothing in their hand.

Bind them to emptiness as with a band.
May these wicked be cursed, never know
The peace of fullness, for they have not
Prevailed, not prevailed, let them know.

The Lord is good. He is just. He alone, right.
He perseveres his people, breaks their chains;
With the iron scepter of his rule and reign,
He dashes as clay their oppression.

But he delivers by his own dispossession,
Takes the mortal cords, enters the night,
Gives his back to plowers, who plow up his life
To bury in death, snuff out the Light of Light.

This was the plan, the eternal decree,
That the Sower furrow into the ground,
That in his plowing, bury death down,
Beyond the tomb's door sealed.

Greatly afflicted, by your stripes I'm healed;
The limbs of your cross, my life-giving tree,
My glory and boast over my enemy,
My sin, which shall never, never prevail over me.

© Randall Edwards 2017

This poem is for Christ’s church. If it is helpful, please feel free to copy or reprint in church bulletins, read aloud, or repost. I only ask that an attribution be cited to myself (Randall Edwards) and this blog (backwardmutters.com and/or backwardmutters.substack.com). Thanks.

Artwork: Detail from an illustration of The Pilgrim’s Progress or Christian’s journey from the City of Destruction in this evil World to the Celestial City; Published July 1, 1813 by J. Pitts No 14 Great St Andrews Street Seven Dials.