Salme 144
1 Af David. Lovet være HERREN, min Klippe, som oplærer mine hænder til Strid, mine Fingre til Krig,
A Psalm of David. Blessed be the LORD my Rock, who traineth my hands for war, and 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!
My lovingkindness, and my fortress, my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and He in whom I take refuge; who subdueth my people under me.
3 HERRE, hvad er et Menneske, at du kendes ved det, et Menneskebarn, at du agter paa ham?
LORD, what is man, that Thou takest knowledge of him? or the son of man, that Thou makest account of him?
4 Mennesket er som et Aandepust, dets Dage som svindende Skygge.
Man is like unto a breath; his days are as a shadow that passeth away.
5 HERRE, sænk din Himmel, stig ned og rør ved Bjergene, saa at de ryger;
O LORD, bow Thy heavens, and come down; touch the mountains, that they may smoke.
6 slyng Lynene ud og adsplit Fjenderne, send dine Pile og indjag dem Rædsel;
Cast forth lightning, and scatter them; send out Thine arrows, and discomfit them.
7 udræk din Haand fra det høje, fri og frels mig fra store Vande,
Stretch forth Thy hands from on high; rescue me, and deliver me out of many waters, out of the hand of strangers;
8 fra fremmedes Haand, de, hvis Mund taler Løgn, hvis højre er Løgnehaand.
Whose mouth speaketh falsehood, and their right hand is a right hand of lying.
9 Gud, jeg vil synge dig en ny Sang, lege for dig paa tistrenget Harpe,
O God, I will sing a new song unto Thee, upon a psaltery of ten strings will I sing praises unto Thee;
10 du, som giver Konger Sejr og udfrier David, din Tjener.
Who givest salvation unto kings, who rescuest David Thy servant from the hurtful sword.
11 Fri mig fra det onde Sværd, frels mig fra fremmedes Haand, de, hvis Mund taler Løgn, hvis højre er Løgnehaand.
Rescue me, and deliver me out of the hand of strangers, whose mouth speaketh falsehood, and their right hand is a right hand of lying.
12 I Ungdommen er vore Sønner som højvoksne Planter, vore Døtre er som Søjler, udhugget i Tempelstil;
We whose sons are as plants grown up in their youth; whose daughters are as corner-pillars carved after the fashion of a palace;
13 vore Forraadskamre er fulde, de yder Forraad paa Forraad, vore Hjorde føder Tusinder, Titusinder paa vore Marker,
Whose garners are full, affording all manner of store; whose sheep increase by thousands and ten thousands in our fields;
14 fede er vore Okser; intet Murbrud, ingen Udvandring, ingen Skrigen paa Torvene.
Whose oxen are well laden; with no breach, and no going forth, and no outcry in our broad places;
15 Saligt det Folk, der er saaledes stedt, saligt det Folk, hvis Gud er HERREN!
Happy is the people that is in such a case. Yea, happy is the people whose God is the LORD.
