Psalms 144
1 [A Psalm] of David. Blessed be Jehovah my rock, who teacheth my hands to war, my fingers to fight;
David’s. Blessed be Yahweh, my Rock, who teacheth my hands to war, my fingers to fight:
2 My mercy and my fortress, my high tower and my deliverer, my shield and he in whom I trust, who subdueth my people under me!
My lovingkindness and my stronghold, my high tower and my deliverer—mine! My buckler, and he in whom I have sought refuge, —He that subdueth my people under me.
3 Jehovah, what is man, that thou takest knowledge of him, the son of man, that thou takest thought of him?
O Yahweh! what is the earthborn, And yet thou hast acknowledged him, —the son of a mortal, And yet thou hast taken account of him:
4 Man is like to vanity; his days are as a shadow that passeth away.
The earthborn, resembleth, a vapour, his days, are like a passing shadow.
5 Jehovah, bow thy heavens, and come down; touch the mountains, that they smoke;
O Yahweh! bow thy heavens and come down, Touch the mountains, that they smoke:
6 Cast forth lightnings, and scatter them; send forth thine arrows, and discomfit them:
Flash forth lightning, that thou mayest scatter them, Send out thine arrows, that thou mayest confound them:
7 Stretch out thy hands from above; rescue me, and deliver me out of great waters, from the hand of aliens,
Put forth thy hands from on high: —Snatch me away and rescue me out of mighty waters, out of the hand of the sons of the alien,
8 Whose mouth speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
Whose mouth, hath spoken deceit, and, whose right hand, is a right hand of falsehood.
9 O God, I will sing a new song unto thee; with the ten-stringed lute will I sing psalms unto thee:
O God! a new song, will I sing unto thee, —On a harp of ten strings, will I make music to thee:
10 Who givest salvation unto kings; who rescuest David thy servant from the hurtful sword.
Who giveth victory unto kings—Who snatcheth away David his servant, from the calamitous sword.
11 Rescue me, and deliver me from the hand of aliens, whose mouth speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
Snatch me away and rescue me out of he hand of the sons of the alien, —whose mouth hath spoken deceit, and, whose right hand, is a right hand of falsehood: —
12 That our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth; our daughters as corner-columns, sculptured after the fashion of a palace:
That, our sons, may be like plants well grown while yet young, —Our daughters, like corner pillars, —carved, in the construction of a palace:
13 Our granaries full, affording all manner of store; our sheep bringing forth thousands, ten thousands in our pastures;
Our garners, full, pouring out from one kind to another; Our flocks, multiplying by thousands—by myriads, in our open fields:
14 Our kine laden [with young]; no breaking in and no going forth, and no outcry in our streets.
Our oxen, well-laden; no breaking in and no departing, —and no loud lament in our places of concourse: —
15 Blessed the people that is in such a case! Blessed the people whose God is Jehovah!
How happy the people that is in such a case! How happy the people that hath Yahweh for its God!
