Salme 144
1 Af David. Lovet være HERREN, min Klippe, som oplærer mine hænder til Strid, mine Fingre til Krig,
Of David. Blessed be the LORD, my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle.
2 min Miskundhed og min Fæstning, min Klippeborg, min Frelser, mit Skjold og den, jeg lider paa, som underlægger mig Folkeslag!
He is my steadfast love and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer. He is my shield, in whom I take refuge, who subdues peoples under me.
3 HERRE, hvad er et Menneske, at du kendes ved det, et Menneskebarn, at du agter paa ham?
O LORD, what is man, that You regard him, the son of man that You think of him?
4 Mennesket er som et Aandepust, dets Dage som svindende Skygge.
Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.
5 HERRE, sænk din Himmel, stig ned og rør ved Bjergene, saa at de ryger;
Part Your heavens, O LORD, and come down; touch the mountains, that they may smoke.
6 slyng Lynene ud og adsplit Fjenderne, send dine Pile og indjag dem Rædsel;
Flash forth Your lightning and scatter them; shoot Your arrows and rout them.
7 udræk din Haand fra det høje, fri og frels mig fra store Vande,
Reach down from on high; set me free and rescue me from the deep waters, from the grasp of foreigners,
8 fra fremmedes Haand, de, hvis Mund taler Løgn, hvis højre er Løgnehaand.
whose mouths speak falsehood, whose right hands are deceitful.
9 Gud, jeg vil synge dig en ny Sang, lege for dig paa tistrenget Harpe,
I will sing to You a new song, O God; on a harp of ten strings I will make music to You—
10 du, som giver Konger Sejr og udfrier David, din Tjener.
to Him who gives victory to kings, who frees His servant David from the deadly sword.
11 Fri mig fra det onde Sværd, frels mig fra fremmedes Haand, de, hvis Mund taler Løgn, hvis højre er Løgnehaand.
Set me free and rescue me from the grasp of foreigners, whose mouths speak falsehood, whose right hands are deceitful.
12 I Ungdommen er vore Sønner som højvoksne Planter, vore Døtre er som Søjler, udhugget i Tempelstil;
Then our sons will be like plants nurtured in their youth, our daughters like corner pillars carved to adorn a palace.
13 vore Forraadskamre er fulde, de yder Forraad paa Forraad, vore Hjorde føder Tusinder, Titusinder paa vore Marker,
Our storehouses will be full, supplying all manner of produce; our flocks will bring forth thousands, tens of thousands in our fields.
14 fede er vore Okser; intet Murbrud, ingen Udvandring, ingen Skrigen paa Torvene.
Our oxen will bear great loads. There will be no breach in the walls, no going into captivity, and no cry of lament in our streets.
15 Saligt det Folk, der er saaledes stedt, saligt det Folk, hvis Gud er HERREN!
Blessed are the people of whom this is so; blessed are the people whose God is the LORD.
