An election day poem: Wolves' Teeth

A prayer for the church, and a little Psalm 44.

Wolves’ Teeth
An election day prayer for the Church
Psalm 44

The Word is an iron rod, and breaks the teeth and jaw
which rage against our God and hate his holy law.

You cast us off and sent defeat, 
You gave us like sheep appointed for meat.

From
The toothy slavering leer of him who seeks to devour
the widows in their fear, the young before they flower;

From
The mordant slurping nibbles of those who eat us alive,
daintily draining, in dribbles, the poor who wriggling strive;

From
The molars that morsels make of marrow, tendons, tongue, 
that grind our bones for cakes, that rend the breath from lung;

From
The fangs that glint in dark from men who are wolves to men,
who make use of ink and clark, and crush with heavy pen;

Deliver us, good Lord.

All day long we are killed for God, 
We are counted as sheep for slaughter.

Shatter their teeth that they may not eat us.

Your Word is an iron mace, and breaks the teeth and jaw
which rage to your very face and hate your holy law.