Habakkuk 3
1 This is a prayer sung by the prophet Habakkuk. On Shigonoth.
En Bøn af Profeten Habakkuk. Al-sjigjonot.
2 I have heard what is said about you, Lord. I stand in awe of your work. Lord, revive it in our times; make it known in our times. In your anger, please remember your mercy.
HERRE, jeg har hørt dit Ry, jeg har skuet din Gerning, HERRE. Fuldbyrd det i Aarenes Løb, aabenbar dig i Aarenes Løb, kom Barmhjertighed i Hu under Vreden!
3 God came from Teman; the Holy One from Mount Paran. (Selah) His glory covered the heavens; the earth was full of his praise.
Gud drager frem fra Teman, den Hellige fra Parans Bjerge. (Sela) Hans Højhed skjuler Himlen, hans Herlighed fylder Jorden.
4 His brightness is like lightning; rays flash from his hand from where his power is hidden.
Under ham er Glans som Ild, fra hans Side udgaar Straaler; der er hans Vælde i Skjul.
5 Plague goes before him, disease follows at his feet.
Foran ham vandrer Pest, og efter ham følger Sot.
6 Where he stands, the earth shakes. When he looks the nations tremble. The ancient mountains shatter, the age-old hills collapse, but his ways are eternal.
Hans Fjed faar Jorden til at skælve, hans Blik faar Folk til at bæve. De ældgamle Bjerge brister, de evige Høje synker, ad evige Stier gaar han.
7 I saw the tents of Cushan suffering, the tent curtains of the land of Midian tremble.
Kusjans Telte bæver, Telttæpperne i Midjans Land.
8 Did you burn with rage against the rivers, Lord? Were you angry with the rivers? Were you furious with the sea when you rode your horses and chariots of salvation?
Er HERREN da vred paa Strømmene, gælder din Vrede Strømmene, gælder din Harme Havet, siden du farer frem paa dine Heste og dine Vogne drøner.
9 You took out your bow; you filled your quiver with arrows. (Selah) You split the earth open with rivers.
Din Bue kom blottet til Syne, din Buestreng mætter du med Pile. (Sela) Du kløver Jorden i Strømme,
10 Mountains saw you and shook. Water poured down and swept by. The deep called out, lifting high its waves.
Bjergene ser dig og skælver. Skyerne nedsender Regnskyl, og Afgrunden løfter sin Røst.
11 The sun and moon stood still in the sky as your sparkling arrows flew and your spears flashed bright.
Solen glemmer at staa op, Maanen bliver i sit Bo; de flygter for Skinnet af dine Pile, for Glansen af dit lynende Spyd.
12 Indignant, you marched across the earth, trampling the nations in your anger.
I Harme skrider du hen over Jorden, du nedtramper Folk i Vrede.
13 You came out to save your people, to save your chosen people. You crushed the head of the house of the wicked, stripping him from thick to neck.
Du drager ud til Frelse for dit Folk, ud for at frelse din Salvede. Du knuser den gudløses Hustag, blotter Grunden til Klippen. (Sela)
14 With his own arrows you pierced the heads of his warriors, those who came like a whirlwind to scatter me, gloating like those who secretly abuse the poor.
Med dit Spyd gennemborer du hans Hoved, hans Høvdinger splittes.
15 You trod upon the sea with your horses, churning up the mighty waters.
Du tramper hans Heste i Havet, i de mange Vandes Dynd.
16 I shook inside when I heard this; my lips quivered at the sound; my bones turned to jelly; I trembled where I stood. I wait quietly for the day of trouble that will come upon those who attacked us.
Jeg hørte det; da bæved min Krop, ved Braget skjalv mine Læber; Edder for i mine Ben, og under mig vakled mine Skridt. Jeg bier paa Trængselens Dag over Folket, som volder os Krig.
17 Even though there are no blossoms on the fig trees and there are no grapes on the vines; even though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no harvest; even though there are no animals in the pen and no cattle in the stalls;
Thi Figentræet blomstrer ikke, Vinstokken giver intet, Olietræets Afgrøde svigter, Markerne giver ej Føde. Faarene svandt af Folden, i Staldene findes ej Okser.
18 still I will be happy in the Lord, joyful in the God of my salvation.
Men jeg vil frydes i HERREN, juble i min Frelses Gud.
19 The Lord God is my strength. He makes me able to walk in the highest mountains, as sure-footed as a deer. (To the music director: with my stringed instruments.)
Den Herre HERREN er min Styrke, han gør mine Fødder som Hindens og lader mig gaa paa mine Høje. Til Sangmesteren. Med Strengespil.
