Eyes to the Throne | A Prophetic Blues Lament from Psalm 123

📖"Eyes to the Throne" is a prophetic blues lament born from the ancient cry of Psalm 123. This is more than a song — it's a holy ache, a voice rising from the ashes of injustice, a soul locked onto heaven's gaze when the earth offers only contempt.

Psalm 123 is one of the Songs of Ascents — pilgrim prayers sung on the way to Jerusalem. It is brief, raw, and potent: a cry for mercy in the face of humiliation. This lamentation takes those verses and breathes them into a blues rhythm soaked in the fire of exile, endurance, and divine justice.

May this song be a voice for those who wait on God not with easy answers, but with unblinking faith. For the scorned. For the weary. For those who still lift their eyes through smoke and silence — to the throne.
📜 Psalm 123 (World English Bible - WEB)

A Song of Ascents.

1 I lift up my eyes to you,
you who sit in the heavens.
2 Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a maid to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to Yahweh, our God,
until he has mercy on us.
3 Have mercy on us, Yahweh, have mercy on us,
for we have endured much contempt.
4 Our soul is exceedingly filled with the scoffing of those who are at ease,
with the contempt of the proud.
🎶 Lyrics – Eyes to the Throne

Deep Blues for a Torn-Open Heaven

Verse 1
I lift my eyes to You who dwell in heaven,
Above the rot, above the leaven.
Where glory lives behind the veil,
And tyrants’ boasts are doomed to fail.

Verse 2
Behold, like servants watch the master's hand,
I wait in ash, not gold or sand.
Like a maid fixed on her mistress' move,
My soul stays locked on eyes that prove.

Verse 3
We've had our fill of scorn and shame,
Of laughter soaked in someone’s pain.
The proud sit fat in thrones of ease—
But Your eyes burn through centuries.

Verse 4
Have mercy on us, Yahweh, Lord,
Have mercy—we can bear no more.
The weight of silence grinds our breath,
The songs are few in halls of death.

Verse 5
They raise their glass to what they stole,
And mock the bruises of the soul.
But You, O Judge, still count the cost—
Not one tear wasted, not one lamb lost.

Bridge (Prophetic Cry)
Yahweh, rise—send wind and flame!
Come write Your wrath on empire’s name.
Speak not in riddles, smoke, or myth,
But thunder justice from Your cliff.

Verse 6
My soul is filled, God, it runs dry,
With jeers that echo when I cry.
But still I lift these wounded eyes—
To fire above the fading skies.

Verse 7
I’ve knelt where saints have bled before,
Where faith meant chains and heaven’s war.
And still I look, though stars collapse—
For mercy’s hand, for Zion’s maps.

Verse 8
No lie can dull this holy ache,
No gold can buy the vow I make.
I will not bow, I will not run—
'Til justice walks and night is done.

Final Refrain (Scripture returns)
So our eyes look to Yahweh our God,
Until He has mercy, until He has mercy...
Until He speaks from the whirlwind stone—
We keep our eyes to the throne.

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