Psalms 42
1 For the end, [a Psalm] for instruction, for the sons of Core. As the hart earnestly desires the fountains of water, so my soul earnestly longs for you, O God.
Til Sangmesteren. En Maskil af Koras Sønner.
2 My soul has thirsted for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?
Som Hjorten skriger efter rindende Vand, saaledes skriger min Sjæl efter dig, o Gud.
3 My tears have been bread to me day and night, while they daily said to me, Where is your God?
Min Sjæl tørster efter Gud, den levende Gud; naar skal jeg komme og stedes for Guds Aasyn?
4 I remembered these things, and poured out my soul in me, for I will go to the place of your wondrous tabernacle, [even] to the house of God, with a voice of exultation and thanksgiving and of the sound of those who keep festival.
Min Graad er blevet mit Brød baade Dag og Nat, fordi de stadig spørger mig: »Hvor er din Gud?«
5 Therefore are you very sad, O my soul? and therefore do you trouble me? hope in God; for I will give thanks to him; [he is] the salvation of my countenance.
Min Sjæl er opløst, naar jeg kommer i Hu, hvorledes jeg vandred med Skaren op til Guds Hus under Jubelraab og Lovsang i Højtidsskaren.
6 O my God, my soul has been troubled within me: therefore will I remember you from the land of Jordan, and of the Ermonites, from the little hill.
Hvorfor er du nedbøjet, Sjæl, hvi bruser du i mig? Bi efter Gud, thi end skal jeg takke ham, mit Aasyns Frelse og min Gud!
7 Deep calls to deep at the voice of your cataracts: all your billows and your waves have gone over me.
Nedbøjet er min Sjæl, derfor mindes jeg dig fra Jordans og Hermontindernes Land, fra Miz'ars Bjerg.
8 By day the Lord will command his mercy, and manifest [it] by night: with me [is] prayer to the God of my life.
Dyb raaber til Dyb ved dine Vandfalds Brusen, alle dine Brændinger og Bølger skyller hen over mig.
9 I will say to God, You are my helper; why have you forgotten me? therefore do I go sad of countenance, while the enemy oppresses [me]?
Sin Miskundhed sender HERREN om Dagen, hans Sang er hos mig om Natten, en Bøn til mit Livs Gud.
10 While my bones were breaking, they that afflicted me reproached me; while they said to me daily, Where is your God?
Jeg siger til Gud, min Klippe: Hvorfor har du glemt mig, hvorfor skal jeg vandre sorgfuld, trængt af Fjender?
11 Therefore are you very sad, O my soul? and therefore do you trouble me? hope in God; for I will give thanks to him; [he is] the health of my countenance, and my God.
Det er, som knustes mine Ben, naar Fjenderne haaner mig, naar de stadig spørger mig: »Hvor er din Gud?« Hvorfor er du nedbøjet, Sjæl, hvi bruser du i mig? Bi efter Gud, thi end skal jeg takke ham, mit Aasyns Frelse og min Gud!
