God's records are extensive and he essentially knows everything. This could get ugly.
The writer is amidst the lions, but fear not—God's helping him out on this one.
Total, complete, and utter destruction. We're talking bloodbaths, snakes, snails, and thorns. Who says the Bible has no action?
God laughs at his enemies. Like Simba, but with the street cred to back it up.
The writer blames God for a defeat, but then reminds himself that God will surely make things better. No problem.
This time, the writer prays for himself, his king, and his people. It's kind of like a reminder to God that he has paid his bills every day, but hasn't gotten his electricity yet.
Class is irrelevant, because God is the ultimate rock upon which to build your house. Like this? Check out Matthew 7:24-27 for more.
As long as the writer's soul is satisfied by God's love, he has no need of things like water or food. That's love, people.
The evildoers' plot is undone. Case closed.
Here, God is the earth's gardener. And yeah, we live in the garden.
God's power is so awesome, so cool, that the writer is going to set aside his favorite goat and his favorite bull. How do you like them apples?
The natural world has given the writer a bounty, so he felt like writing a poem for God. And he did.
God helps the meek in a nice, personal way, and then proceeds to strike down his enemies with fire and brimstone. These differing versions of God here aren't just related—for the writer, they're the same.
Everyone has turned on the writer, but fear not, God is on his way.
The writer is confident that God will save him. (In case you didn't get that from the other 149 psalms.)
God will rise from the depths to save his servant. Translation? The enemies of the writer have no chance.
The writer prays for the king, his family, and his armies. This king could not be any cooler in the eyes of the writer.
The writer reflects on the faithlessness of the faithless, and then tells God that his faith is all he needs to survive. What, no chocolate?
Jerusalem has been destroyed, but the writer reminds himself of all the stories of his people. Rehash time, everyone! Exodus swoops in to save the writer from his misery.
The writer compares God to a bartender who only serves bad drinks to the evildoers. They're doomed to the drain. Good wine goes a long way here.
Human emotion is nothing compared to God's. What can an Israelite do but praise God?
Again we have a dual God: he lives in your house and consoles you when you're afraid of the dark, but he also smites, smites, and…smites. Powerful guy.