Salme 92
1 (En Salme. En Sang for Sabbatsdagen.) Det er godt at takke HERREN, lovsynge dit navn, du højeste,
A Psalm. — A Song for the sabbath-day. Good to give thanks to Jehovah, And to sing praises to Thy name, O Most High,
2 ved Gry forkynde din Nåde, om Natten din Trofasthed
To declare in the morning Thy kindness, And Thy faithfulness in the nights.
3 til tistrenget Lyre, til Harpe, til Strengeleg på Citer!
On ten strings and on psaltery, On (higgaion) with harp.
4 Thi ved dit Værk har du glædet mig, HERRE, jeg jubler over dine Hænders Gerning.
For Thou hast caused me to rejoice, O Jehovah, in Thy work, Concerning the works of Thy hands I sing.
5 Hvor store er dine Gerninger, HERRE, dine Tanker såre dybe!
How great have been Thy works, O Jehovah, Very deep have been Thy thoughts.
6 Tåben fatter det ikke, Dåren skønner ej sligt.
A brutish man doth not know, And a fool understandeth not this; —
7 Spirer de gudløse end som Græsset, blomstrer end alle Udådsmænd, er det kun for at lægges øde for stedse,
When the wicked flourish as a herb, And blossom do all workers of iniquity — For their being destroyed for ever and ever!
8 men du er ophøjet for evigt, HERRE.
And Thou [art] high to the age, O Jehovah.
9 Thi se, dine Fjender, HERRE, se, dine Fjender går under, alle Udådsmænd spredes!
For, lo, Thine enemies, O Jehovah, For, lo, Thine enemies, do perish, Separate themselves do all workers of iniquity.
10 Du har løftet mit Horn som Vildoksens, kvæget mig med den friskeste Olie;
And Thou exaltest as a reem my horn, I have been anointed with fresh oil.
11 det fryder mit Øje at se mine Fjender, mit Øre at høre mine Avindsmænd.
And mine eye looketh on mine enemies, Of those rising up against me, The evil doers, do mine ears hear.
12 De retfærdige grønnes som Palmen, vokser som Libanons Ceder;
The righteous as a palm-tree flourisheth, As a cedar in Lebanon he groweth.
13 plantet i HERRENs Hus grønnes de i vor Guds Forgårde;
Those planted in the house of Jehovah, In the courts of our God do flourish.
14 selv grånende bærer de Frugt, er friske og fulde af Saft
Still they bring forth in old age, Fat and flourishing are they,
15 for at vidne, at HERREN er retvis, min Klippe, hos hvem ingen Uret findes.
To declare that upright [is] Jehovah my rock, And there is no perverseness in Him!
