Salme 21
1 (Til sangmesteren. En salme af David.) HERRE, Kongen er glad ved din Vælde, hvor frydes han højlig over din Frelse!
“To the chief musician, a psalm of David.” O Lord, because of thy strength will the king rejoice; and through thy salvation how greatly will he be glad!
2 Hvad hans Hjerte ønskede, gav du ham, du afslog ikke hans Læbers Bøn. (Sela)
The longing of his heart hast thou given him, and the request of his lips hast thou not withholden. (Selah)
3 Du kom ham i Møde med rig Velsignelse, satte en Krone af Guld på hans Hoved.
For thou meetest him unasked with the blessings of happiness: thou settest on his head a crown of pure gold.
4 Han bad dig om Liv, og du gav ham det, en Række af Dage uden Ende.
Life hath he asked of thee, thou gavest it to him, length of days for ever and ever.
5 Stor er hans Glans ved din Frelse, Højhed og Hæder lægger du på ham.
Great is his honor through thy help: glory and majesty thou layest upon him.
6 Ja, evig Velsignelse gav du ham, med Fryd for dit Åsyn glæded du ham.
For thou appointest him to be a blessing for ever: thou makest him glad with joy from thy presence.
7 Thi Kongen stoler på HERREN, ved den Højestes Nåde rokkes han ikke.
For the king trusteth in the Lord; and through the kindness of the Most High shall he not be moved.
8 Til alle dine Fjender når din Hånd, din højre når dine Avindsmænd.
Thy hand will reach all thy enemies: thy right hand will reach those that hate thee.
9 Du gør dem til et luende Bål, når du viser dig; HERREN sluger dem i sin Vrede. Ild fortærer dem.
Thou wilt render them as a fiery oven at the time of thy anger: the Lord in his wrath will destroy them, and a fire will devour them.
10 Du rydder bort deres Frugt af Jorden, deres Sæd blandt Menneskens Børn.
Their fruit wilt thou cause to perish from the earth, and their seed from among the children of men.
11 Thi de søger at volde dig ondt, spinder Rænker, men evner intet;
For they directed against thee evil: they devised a mischievous purpose, which they were not able to perform.
12 thi du slår dem på Flugt, med din Bue sigter du mod deres Ansigt.
For thou wilt make them turn their back; upon thy bow-strings thou wilt make ready [thy arrows] against their face.
13 HERRE, stå op i din Vælde, med Sang og med Spil vil vi prise dit Storværk!
Exalt thyself, O Lord, in thy strength; [and] we will sing and praise thy power.
