Habakkuk 3
1 En Bøn af Profeten Habakuk; efter Sigjonoth.
A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, according to the 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!
I have heard, Lord, of your fame, I have seen, Lord, your work; through the years you have make yourself known, in wrath you remember mercy.
3 Gud kommer fra Theman og den Hellige fra Parans Bjerg. (Sela) Hans Majestæt bedækker Himmelen, og af hans Herlighed fyldes Jorden.
God comes from Teman, and the Holy One from the mountain-land of Paran. (Selah) His glory covers the heavens, and his splendor fills the earth.
4 Og en Glans som Lyset bryder frem, Straaler har han til Siden, og der skjuler han sin Magt.
Before him it is like the light, rays he has at his side, where his power is hidden.
5 Foran ham gaar Pesten, og efter ham udgaar dræbende Sot.
Before him pestilence stalks, after him plague follows.
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.
He stands, and the earth trembles, he looks, and the nations melt away, and the mountains of old are scattered, the everlasting hills bow down. These are his ways from of old.
7 Jeg ser Kusans Telte i Vaande, Telttæpperne i Midians Land ryste.
The tents of Cushan are afraid, the curtains of Midian tremble.
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.
Is your wrath, Lord, with the rivers? Is your anger against the streams? Or your rage against the sea? Is that why you ride on your war-steeds? Why you mount your chariots of victory?
9 Din blottede Bue tages frem, med Ed stadfæstede ved Ordet ere Straffens Ris. (Sela) I Strømme kløver du Jorden.
Why you bare your bow? Why you fill your quiver with shafts? You split the earth with torrents.
10 Bjerge se dig, de skælve; Vandstrømme styrte ned, Afgrunden hæver sin Røst, den opløfter sine Hænder imod det høje.
The mountains see you and writhe. The tempest of waters sweeps by. The great deep sends forth its voice, and lifts up its hands.
11 Sol og Maane træde tilbage i deres Bolig for Lyset af dine Pile, som fare frem, for Glansen af dit Spyds Lyn.
The sun forgets to rise. The moon stands still in its place. Your arrows go forth to give light. Your glittering spear is as lightning.
12 I Fortørnelse skrider du frem paa Jorden, i Vrede nedtræder du Hedningerne.
In rage you stride over the earth. In wrath you trample the nations.
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 go forth to save your people. You go to help your anointed. You crush the head of the wicked nation, laying him bare from thigh to 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 pierced his head with his spears, as his champions storm out to scatter us, as they rejoice to devour the poor secretly.
15 Du drager igennem Havet paa dine Heste, igennem de mange Vandes Hob.
You tread the sea with your horses, while the mighty waters roar.
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.
I hear, and my body trembles, and at the sound my lips quiver. My bones begin to decay, and my footsteps totter beneath me, while I long for the day of distress to come upon those who attack us.
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.
Though the fig tree bears no fruit, and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive harvest fails, and the fields produce no food, though the flock is cut off from the fold, and there is no herd in the stalls,
18 Men jeg vil glæde mig i Herren; jeg vil fryde mig i min Frelses Gud.
yet I will exult in the Lord, and rejoice in the God who saves me.
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; he makes my feet as sure as the feet of deer, and causes me to walk on the heights! To the music director: Use stringed instruments.
