Habakkuk 3
1 En Bøn af Profeten Habakuk; efter Sigjonoth.
A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, put to Shigionoth.
2 Herre! jeg har hørt Tidenden om dig, jeg frygter; Herre! din Gerning, kald den til Live midt i Aarene, midt i Aarene kundgøre du den; i Vrede komme du i Hu at være barmhjertig!
O Lord, word of you has come to my ears; I have seen your work, O Lord; when the years come near make it clear; in wrath keep mercy in mind.
3 Gud kommer fra Theman og den Hellige fra Parans Bjerg. (Sela) Hans Majestæt bedækker Himmelen, og af hans Herlighed fyldes Jorden.
God came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount Paran. (Selah) The heavens were covered with his glory, and the earth was full of his praise.
4 Og en Glans som Lyset bryder frem, Straaler har han til Siden, og der skjuler han sin Magt.
He was shining like the light; he had rays coming out from his hand: there his power was kept secret.
5 Foran ham gaar Pesten, og efter ham udgaar dræbende Sot.
Before him went disease, and flames went out at his feet.
6 Han træder frem og bringer Jorden til at ryste, han ser til og bringer Folkene til at skælve, og de evige Bjerge briste, de ældgamle Høje synke; hans Tog ere som i fordums Tid.
From his high place he sent shaking on the earth; he saw and nations were suddenly moved: and the eternal mountains were broken, the unchanging hills were bent down; his ways are eternal.
7 Jeg ser Kusans Telte i Vaande, Telttæpperne i Midians Land ryste.
The curtains of Cushan were troubled, and the tents of Midian were shaking.
8 Er vel din Vrede, o Herre! optændt imod Floderne? din Vrede imod Floderne og din Harme imod Havet? at du saa farer frem paa dine Heste, paa dine Vogne til Frelse.
Was your wrath burning against the rivers? were you angry with the sea, that you went on your horses, on your war-carriages of salvation?
9 Din blottede Bue tages frem, med Ed stadfæstede ved Ordet ere Straffens Ris. (Sela) I Strømme kløver du Jorden.
Your bow was quite uncovered. (Selah) By you the earth was cut through with rivers.
10 Bjerge se dig, de skælve; Vandstrømme styrte ned, Afgrunden hæver sin Røst, den opløfter sine Hænder imod det høje.
The mountains saw you and were moved with fear; the clouds were streaming with water: the voice of the deep was sounding; the sun did not come up, and the moon kept still in her place.
11 Sol og Maane træde tilbage i deres Bolig for Lyset af dine Pile, som fare frem, for Glansen af dit Spyds Lyn.
At the light of your arrows they went away, at the shining of your polished spear.
12 I Fortørnelse skrider du frem paa Jorden, i Vrede nedtræder du Hedningerne.
You went stepping through the land in wrath, crushing the nations in your passion.
13 Du er dragen ud til dit Folks Frelse, til din Salvedes Frelse; du knuser Hovedet af den ugudeliges Hus, idet du blotter Grundvolden op til Halsen. (Sela)
You went out for the salvation of your people, for the salvation of the one on whom your holy oil was put; wounding the head of the family of the evil-doer, uncovering the base even to the neck. (Selah)
14 Du gennemborer ved hans Spyd Hovederne paa hans Skarer, som storme frem for at adsprede mig, og hvis Glæde var som til at æde den elendige i Skjul.
You have put your spears through his head, his horsemen were sent in flight like dry stems; they had joy in driving away the poor, in making a meal of them secretly.
15 Du drager igennem Havet paa dine Heste, igennem de mange Vandes Hob.
The feet of your horses were on the sea, on the mass of great waters.
16 Jeg har hørt det, og mit Indre bævede, ved Røsten dirrede mine Læber, der kommer Skørhed i mine Ben, og jeg ryster, hvor jeg staar, fordi jeg skal være rolig til Nødens Dag, indtil han, som med en Skare skal angribe Folket, drager op imod det.
Hearing it, my inner parts were moved, and my lips were shaking at the sound; my bones became feeble, and my steps were uncertain under me: I gave sounds of grief in the day of trouble, when his forces came up against the people in bands.
17 Thi Figentræet skal ikke blomstre, og der er ingen Afgrøde paa Vintræerne, Olietræets Frugt slaar fejl, og Markerne give ikke Spise; Faarene ere revne bort fra Folden, og der er ingen Øksne i Staldene.
For though the fig-tree has no flowers, and there is no fruit on the vine, and work on the olive comes to nothing, and the fields give no food; and the flock is cut off from its resting-place, and there is no herd in the cattle-house:
18 Men jeg vil glæde mig i Herren; jeg vil fryde mig i min Frelses Gud.
Still, I will be glad in the Lord, my joy will be in the God of my salvation.
19 Den Herre, Herre er min Styrke, og han gør mine Fødder som Hindernes og lader mig skride frem over mine Høje. Til Sangmesteren; med min Strengeleg.
The Lord God is my strength, and he makes my feet like roes' feet, guiding me on my high places. For the chief music-maker on corded instruments.
