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 strength, who teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight:
2 min Miskundhed og min Fæstning, min Klippeborg, min Frelser, mit Skjold og den, jeg lider paa, som underlægger mig Folkeslag!
My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and he in whom I trust; 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 vanity: his days are as a shadow that passeth away.
5 HERRE, sænk din Himmel, stig ned og rør ved Bjergene, saa at de ryger;
Bow thy heavens, O LORD, and come down: touch the mountains, and they shall smoke.
6 slyng Lynene ud og adsplit Fjenderne, send dine Pile og indjag dem Rædsel;
Cast forth lightning, and scatter them: shoot thy arrows, and destroy them.
7 udræk din Haand fra det høje, fri og frels mig fra store Vande,
Send thy hand from above; rid me, and deliver me out of great waters, from the hand of foreigners;
8 fra fremmedes Haand, de, hvis Mund taler Løgn, hvis højre er Løgnehaand.
Whose mouth speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
9 Gud, jeg vil synge dig en ny Sang, lege for dig paa tistrenget Harpe,
I will sing a new song to thee, O God: upon a psaltery and an instrument of ten strings will I sing praises to thee.
10 du, som giver Konger Sejr og udfrier David, din Tjener.
It is he that giveth salvation to kings: who delivereth David his 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.
Rid me, and deliver me from the hand of foreigners, whose mouth speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood:
12 I Ungdommen er vore Sønner som højvoksne Planter, vore Døtre er som Søjler, udhugget i Tempelstil;
That our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth; that our daughters may be as corner stones, polished after the similitude of a palace:
13 vore Forraadskamre er fulde, de yder Forraad paa Forraad, vore Hjorde føder Tusinder, Titusinder paa vore Marker,
That our barns may be full, affording all manner of store: that our sheep may bring forth thousands and ten thousands in our streets:
14 fede er vore Okser; intet Murbrud, ingen Udvandring, ingen Skrigen paa Torvene.
That our oxen may be strong to labour; that there be no breaking in, nor going out; that there be no complaining in our streets.
15 Saligt det Folk, der er saaledes stedt, saligt det Folk, hvis Gud er HERREN!
Happy is that people, that is in such a case: yea, happy is that people, whose God is the LORD.
