Psalms 21
1 For the choirmaster. A Psalm of David. O LORD, the king rejoices in Your strength. How greatly he exults in Your salvation!
Til Sangmesteren. En Salme af David.
2 You have granted his heart’s desire and have not withheld the request of his lips.
HERRE, Kongen er glad ved din Vælde, hvor frydes han højlig over din Frelse!
3 For You welcomed him with rich blessings; You placed on his head a crown of pure gold.
Hvad hans Hjerte ønskede, gav du ham, du afslog ikke hans Læbers Bøn. (Sela)
4 He asked You for life, and You granted it— length of days, forever and ever.
Du kom ham i Møde med rig Velsignelse, satte en Krone af Guld paa hans Hoved.
5 Great is his glory in Your salvation; You bestow on him splendor and majesty.
Han bad dig om Liv, og du gav ham det, en Række af Dage uden Ende.
6 For You grant him blessings forever; You cheer him with joy in Your presence.
Stor er hans Glans ved din Frelse, Højhed og Hæder lægger du paa ham.
7 For the king trusts in the LORD; through the loving devotion of the Most High, he will not be shaken.
Ja, evig Velsignelse gav du ham, med Fryd for dit Aasyn glæded du ham.
8 Your hand will apprehend all Your enemies; Your right hand will seize those who hate You.
Thi Kongen stoler paa HERREN, ved den Højestes Naade rokkes han ikke.
9 You will place them in a fiery furnace at the time of Your appearing. In His wrath the LORD will engulf them, and the fire will consume them.
Til alle dine Fjender naar din Haand, din højre naar dine Avindsmænd.
10 You will wipe their descendants from the earth, and their offspring from the sons of men.
Du gør dem til et luende Baal, naar du viser dig; HERREN sluger dem i sin Vrede, Ild fortærer dem.
11 Though they intend You harm, the schemes they devise will not prevail.
Du rydder bort deres Frugt af Jorden, deres Sæd blandt Menneskens Børn.
12 For You will put them to flight when Your bow is trained upon them.
Thi de søger at volde dig ondt, spinder Rænker, men evner intet;
13 Be exalted, O LORD, in Your strength; we will sing and praise Your power.
thi du slaar dem paa Flugt, med din Bue sigter du mod deres Ansigt. HERRE, staa op i din Vælde, med Sang og med Spil vil vi prise dit Storværk!
