Not only is Psalm 119 the longest psalm in the psalter, it’s longer than any other chapter in the Bible. In Hebrew, its poetry is a long and complicated acrostic, going through each of the 22 letters in the alphabet, from aleph to tau, extravagantly praising God’s law (torah) and precepts.

Why would anyone do that, we wonder? But human beings have been making poetry in a bewildering variety of forms for centuries. We’re pretty familiar with haiku, the Japanese poetic form with three lines of five, then seven, then five syllables. (Try it—it’s simple, but not that easy.) Rhyme or no rhyme, line length, distribution of accents—each age has its own understanding of what constitutes poetry.

The words (texts, lyrics) of the music we sing in liturgy are not only prayer, but also poetry that can inspire, comfort, challenge, even clarify a theological concept. But if the text is clumsy, if the translation is awkward, if the concepts are muddy, the music will likely fail. If the vocabulary is either too high-flown or too didactic for the people who are supposed to sing it, it will not reach their hearts and minds.

The music director needs to ask some basic questions when choosing vocal music. Is this text good English? (Or Spanish or Vietnamese … ) Are there any accents on the wrong syl-LA-ble? (Oh, I could share horror stories!) Is the language appropriate for this community, this liturgy? Does the text merely repeat churchy formulas or is there insight into the mystery we proclaim? Is it good poetry?

Most importantly, will these words help deepen the faith life of this community