Psalms 144
1 A Psalm. Of David. Praise be to the God of my strength, teaching my hands the use of the sword, and my fingers the art of fighting:
“By David.” Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who exerciseth my hands for the battle, my fingers for the war:
2 He is my strength, and my Rock; my high tower, and my saviour; my keeper and my hope: he gives me authority over my people.
My kindness, and my strong-hold; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and he in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me.
3 Lord, what is man, that you keep him in mind? or the son of man that you take him into account?
Lord, what is man, that thou takest cognizance of him: the son of a mortal, that thou regardest him!
4 Man is like a breath: his life is like a shade which is quickly gone.
Man is like the breath: his days are like a passing shadow.
5 Come down, O Lord, from your heavens: at your touch let the mountains give out smoke.
O Lord, bend thy heavens, and come down: touch the mountains, that they may smoke.
6 With your storm-flames send them in flight: send out your arrows for their destruction.
Cast forth lightning, and scatter them: send out thy arrows, and confound them.
7 Put out your hand from on high; make me free, take me safely out of the great waters, and out of the hands of strange men;
Stretch out thy hands from above; rid me, and deliver me out of great waters, from the hand of the children of the stranger.
8 In whose mouths are false words, and whose right hand is a right hand of deceit.
Whose mouth speaketh vanity, and whose right hand is the right hand of falsehood.
9 I will make a new song to you, O God; I will make melody to you on an instrument of ten cords.
O God, a new song will I sing unto thee: upon the ten-stringed psaltery will I sing praises unto thee.
10 It is God who gives salvation to kings; and who kept his servant David from the wounding sword.
[Thou art he] that giveth victory unto kings: who riddeth David his servant from the evil-bringing sword.
11 Make me free, and take me out of the hands of strange men, in whose mouths are false words, and whose right hand is a right hand of deceit.
Rid me, and deliver me from the hand of the children of the stranger, whose mouth speaketh vanity, and whose right hand is the right hand of falsehood.
12 Our sons are like tall young plants; and our daughters like the shining stones of a king's house;
So that our sons may be like plants, grown up in their youth: our daughters, like corner-pillars, sculptured in the model of a palace.
13 Our store-houses are full of all good things; and our sheep give birth to thousands and ten thousands in our fields.
May our garners be full, furnishing all manner of store: our sheep bringing forth thousands and ten thousands in our open pastures.
14 Our oxen are well weighted down; our cows give birth safely; there is no going out, and there is no cry of sorrow in our open places.
May our oxen be strong to labor: may there be no breach, nor migration, nor loud complaint in our streets.
15 Happy is the nation whose ways are so ordered: yes, happy is the nation whose God is the Lord.
Happy the people, that fare thus: happy the people, whose God is the Lord.
