Salme 65
1 Til Sangmesteren. En Salme af David. En Sang.
“To the chief musician, a psalm [and] song of David.” For thee praise is waiting, O God, in Zion: and unto thee shall vows be paid.
2 Lovsang tilkommer dig paa Zion, o Gud, dig indfrier man Løfter, du, som hører Bønner;
O thou that hearest prayer, unto thee all flesh shall come.
3 alt Kød kommer til dig, naar Brøden tynger.
The iniquitous things have become too mighty for me: our transgressions—these wilt thou wipe away.
4 Vore Overtrædelser blev os for svare, du tilgiver dem.
Happy is he whom thou choosest, and causest to approach, that he may dwell in thy courts: let us be satisfied with the happiness of thy house, the holiness of thy temple.
5 Salig den, du udvælger, lader bo i dine Forgaarde! Vi mættes af dit Huses Rigdom, dit Tempels Hellighed.
With terrific deeds in righteousness wilt thou answer us, O God of our salvation, who art the confidence of all the ends of the earth, and of the sea, that are far away;
6 Du svarer os underfuldt i Retfærd, vor Frelses Gud, du Tilflugt for den vide Jord, for fjerne Strande,
Who setteth firmly the mountains by his power, who is girded with might;
7 du, som grundfæster Bjerge med Vælde, omgjordet med Kraft,
Who assuageth the roaring of the seas, the roaring of their waves, and the tumult of nations.
8 du, som dæmper Havenes Brusen, deres Bølgers Brusen og Folkefærds Larm,
And they that dwell in the uttermost parts are afraid of thy wondrous signs: the outgoings of the morning and evening thou causest to rejoice.
9 saa Folk ved Verdens Ende gruer for dine Tegn; hvor Morgen og Aften oprinder, bringer du Jubel.
Thou hast thought of the earth, and waterest her abundantly; thou greatly enrichest her; the brook of God is full of water: thou preparest their corn, when thou hast thus prepared her.
10 Du saa til Landet, vanded det, gjorde det saare rigt, Guds Bæk er fuld af Vand, du bereder dets Korn,
Watering her furrows abundantly, smoothing down her ridges, thou softenest her with showers; thou blessest her growth.
11 du vander dets Furer, jævner knoldene, bløder det med Regn, velsigner dets Sæd.
Thou hast crowned the year of thy goodness; and thy tracks drop fatness:
12 Med din Herlighed kroner du Aaret, dine Vognspor flyder af Fedme;
The pastures of the wilderness are dropping [with plenty]: and the hills are girt with gladness.
13 de øde Græsgange flyder, med Jubel omgjordes Højene; Engene klædes med Faar, Dalene hylles i Korn, i Jubel bryder de ud og synger!
The meadows are clothed with flocks, and the valleys are enveloped with corn: men shout for joy, [yea, ] they also sing.
