< 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 Yahweh, my rock, who trains 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!
You are my covenant faithfulness and my fortress, my high tower and the one who rescues me, my shield and the one in whom I take refuge, the one who subdues nations under me.
3 HERRE, hvad er et Menneske, at du kendes ved det, et Menneskebarn, at du agter paa ham?
Yahweh, what is man that you take notice of him or the son of man that you think about 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;
Cause the sky to sink and come down, Yahweh; touch the mountains and make them smoke.
6 slyng Lynene ud og adsplit Fjenderne, send dine Pile og indjag dem Rædsel;
Send flashes of lightning and scatter my enemies; shoot your arrows and drive them back in confusion.
7 udræk din Haand fra det høje, fri og frels mig fra store Vande,
Reach out your hand from above; rescue me out of many waters, from the hand of foreigners.
8 fra fremmedes Haand, de, hvis Mund taler Løgn, hvis højre er Løgnehaand.
Their mouths speak lies, and their right hand is falsehood.
9 Gud, jeg vil synge dig en ny Sang, lege for dig paa tistrenget Harpe,
I will sing a new song to you, God; on a lute of ten strings I will sing praises to you,
10 du, som giver Konger Sejr og udfrier David, din Tjener.
who give salvation to kings, who rescued David your servant from an evil 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 free me from the hand of foreigners. Their mouths speak lies, and their right hand is falsehood.
12 I Ungdommen er vore Sønner som højvoksne Planter, vore Døtre er som Søjler, udhugget i Tempelstil;
May our sons be like plants who grow to full size in their youth and our daughters like carved corner pillars, shapely like those of a palace.
13 vore Forraadskamre er fulde, de yder Forraad paa Forraad, vore Hjorde føder Tusinder, Titusinder paa vore Marker,
May our storehouses be full with every kind of produce, and may our sheep produce thousands and ten thousands in our fields.
14 fede er vore Okser; intet Murbrud, ingen Udvandring, ingen Skrigen paa Torvene.
Then our oxen will have many young. No one will break through our walls; there will be no exile and no outcry in our streets.
15 Saligt det Folk, der er saaledes stedt, saligt det Folk, hvis Gud er HERREN!
Blessed is the people with such blessings; happy is the people whose God is Yahweh.

< Salme 144 >