Habakkuk 3
1 (En Bøn af Profeten Hahakkuk. Al-sjigjonot.)
The prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, in the form of an ode.
2 HERRE, jeg har hørt dit Ry, jeg har skuet din Gerning, HERRE. Fuldbyrd det i Årenes Løb, åbenbar dig i Årenes Løb, kom Barmhjertighed i Hu under Vreden!
O Jehovah, I have heard thy words, and tremble. O Jehovah, revive thy work in the midst of the years, In the midst of the years make it known, In wrath remember mercy!
3 Gud drager frem fra Teman, den Hellige fra Parans Bjerge. (Sela) Hans Højhed skjuler Himlen, hans Herlighed fylder Jorden.
God cometh from Teman, And the Holy One from mount Paran; His glory covereth the heavens, And the earth is full of his praise.
4 Under ham er Glans som Ild, fra hans Side udgår Stråler; der er hans Vælde i Skjul.
His brightness is as the light; Rays stream forth from his hand, And there is the hiding-place of his power.
5 Foran ham vandrer Pest, og efter ham følger Sot.
Before him goeth the pestilence, And the plague followeth his steps.
6 Hans Fjed får Jorden til at skælve, hans Blik får Folk til at bæve. De ældgamle Bjerge brister, de evige Høje synker, ad evige Stier går han.
He standeth, and measureth the earth; He beholdeth, and maketh the nations tremble; The everlasting mountains are broken asunder; The eternal hills sink down; The eternal paths are trodden by him.
7 Kusjans Telte bæver, Telttæpperne i Midjans Land.
I see the tents of Cushan in affliction, And the canopies of the land of Midian tremble.
8 Er HERREN da vred på Strømmene, gælder din Vrede Strømmene, gælder din Harme Havet, siden du farer frem på dine Heste og dine Vogne drøner.
Is the anger of Jehovah kindled against the rivers, Is thy wrath against the rivers, Is thy indignation against the floods, That thou ridest on with thy horses, Upon thy chariots of victory?
9 Din Bue kom blottet til Syne, din Buestreng mætter du med Pile. (Sela) Du kløver Jorden i Strømme,
Thy bow is made bare; Curses are the arrows of thy word; Thou causest rivers to break forth from the earth.
10 Bjergene ser dig og skælver. Skyerne nedsender Regnskyl, og Afgrunden løfter sin Røst.
The mountains see thee and tremble; The flood of waters overflows; The deep uttereth his voice, And lifteth up his hands on high.
11 Solen glemmer at stå op, Månen bliver i sit Bo; de flygter for Skinnet af dine Pile, for Glansen af dit lynende Spyd.
The sun and the moon remain in their habitation, At the light of thine arrows which fly, At the brightness of the lightning of thy spear.
12 I Harme skrider du hen over Jorden, du nedtramper Folk i Vrede.
Thou marchest through the land in indignation; Thou thrashest the nations in anger;
13 Du drager ud til Frelse for dit Folk, ud for at frelse din Salvede. Du knuser den gudløses Hustag, blotter Grunden til Klippen. (Sela)
Thou goest forth for the deliverance of thy people, For the deliverance of thine anointed. Thou smitest the head of the house of the wicked; Thou destroyest the foundation even to the neck.
14 Med dit Spyd gennemborer du hans Hoved, bans Høvdinger splittes.
Thou piercest with his own spears the chief of his captains, Who rushed like a whirlwind to scatter us; Who exulted, as if they should devour the distressed in a hiding-place.
15 Du tramper hans Heste i Havet, i de mange Vandes Dynd.
Thou ridest through the sea with thy horses, Through the raging of mighty waters.
16 Jeg hørte det; da bæved min Krop, ved Braget skjalv mine Læber; Edder for i mine Ben, og under mig vakled mine Skridt. Jeg bier på Trængselens Dag over Folket, som volder os Krig.
I have heard, and my heart trembleth; My lips quiver at the voice; Rottenness entereth into my bones, and my knees tremble, That I must wait in silence for the day of trouble, When the invader shall come up against my people!
17 Thi Figentræet blomstrer ikke, Vinstokken giver intet, Olietræets Afgrøde svigter, Markerne giver ej Føde. Fårene svandt af Folden, i Staldene findes ej Okser.
For the fig-tree shall not blossom, And there shall be no fruit upon the vine; The produce of the olive shall fail, And the fields shall yield no food. The flocks shall he cut off from the folds, And there shall be no herd in the stalls.
18 Men jeg vil frydes i HERREN, juble i min Frelses Gud.
Yet will I rejoice in Jehovah, I will exult in God, my helper.
19 Den Herre HERREN er min Styrke, han gør mine Fødder som Hindens og lader mig gå på mine Høje. Til Sangmesteren. Med Strengespil.
The Lord Jehovah is my strength; He will make my feet like the hind's, And cause me to walk upon my high places. “To the leader of the music on my stringed instruments.”
