How bothersome is your dwelling place,
O Mostly Invisible LORD !
My soul perfunctorily and when convenient for me,
gives half a thought to the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh are mostly indifferent
to the God who is mostly non-existent to me.
Even though the quail has found a home,
and the ground squirrel a nest for herself,
where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
O LORD Almighty, Ruler of only the parts of my life I am ready to give up.
Blessed are those who dwell in their own houses on Sundays;
they sleep in or eat out, happy to be independent and self-reliant.
Blessed are those who, on their own, have made that lifestyle possible,
who have set their hearts on a pilgrimage of convenience and comfort.
As they pass through the Valley of the Sun,
they make the things happen that they want to happen;
they can provide their own refreshment and nurture.
They go on the power of their own strength,
only occasionally, time of in desperate personal need will they fling themselves at God’s feet.