Habakkuk 3
1 A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet upon Shigyonoth.
(En Bøn af Profeten Hahakkuk. Al-sjigjonot.)
2 O Lord, I have heard thy fame, [and] was afraid: O Lord, thy work—in the midst of the years [of sorrow] revive thou it, in the midst of the years make it known; in wrath remember mercy.
HERRE, jeg har hørt dit Ry, jeg har skuet din Gerning, HERRE. Fuldbyrd det i Årenes Løb, åbenbar dig i Årenes Løb, kom Barmhjertighed i Hu under Vreden!
3 [When] God from Theman came, and the Holy One from mount Paran, (Selah) his glory covered the heavens, and of his praise the earth was full.
Gud drager frem fra Teman, den Hellige fra Parans Bjerge. (Sela) Hans Højhed skjuler Himlen, hans Herlighed fylder Jorden.
4 And [his] brightness was like the sunlight; rays streamed forth out of his hand unto them; and there was the hiding of his power.
Under ham er Glans som Ild, fra hans Side udgår Stråler; der er hans Vælde i Skjul.
5 Before him went the pestilence, and burning coals went forth in his steps.
Foran ham vandrer Pest, og efter ham følger Sot.
6 He stood forward, and made the earth tremble; he looked and dispersed nations; and there burst asunder the everlasting mountains; there sunk the perpetual hills: the ways of the world are his.
Hans Fjed får Jorden til at skælve, hans Blik får Folk til at bæve. De ældgamle Bjerge brister, de evige Høje synker, ad evige Stier går han.
7 In affliction I saw the tents of Cushan: they trembled—the curtains of the land of Midian.
Kusjans Telte bæver, Telttæpperne i Midjans Land.
8 Was the Lord wroth against the rivers? yea, was against the rivers thy anger [kindled]? was against the sea thy wrath that thou rodest upon thy horses, thy chariots of victory!
Er HERREN da vred på Strømmene, gælder din Vrede Strømmene, gælder din Harme Havet, siden du farer frem på dine Heste og dine Vogne drøner.
9 Laid quite bare is thy bow, like severe rods of punishment [goeth forth] thy word, (Selah) into rivers thou splittest the earth.
Din Bue kom blottet til Syne, din Buestreng mætter du med Pile. (Sela) Du kløver Jorden i Strømme,
10 The mountains saw thee, they trembled; the flowing waters passed along: the deep issued forth its voice, the height lifted up its hands.
Bjergene ser dig og skælver. Skyerne nedsender Regnskyl, og Afgrunden løfter sin Røst.
11 The sun and moon stood still in their dwelling: at the light of thy arrows they walked along, at the shining of the flaming glitter of thy spear.
Solen glemmer at stå op, Månen bliver i sit Bo; de flygter for Skinnet af dine Pile, for Glansen af dit lynende Spyd.
12 In indignation thou marchest through the earth, in anger thou treadest down nations.
I Harme skrider du hen over Jorden, du nedtramper Folk i Vrede.
13 Thou wentest forth to the assistance of thy people, to the assistance of thy anointed: thou didst wound the head out of the house of the wicked, destroy the foundation with the high-towering walls. (Selah)
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 Thou didst strike through with his own spears the chiefs of his villages, who rushed out furiously to scatter me; who rejoiced greatly as though they were to devour the poor in secret.
Med dit Spyd gennemborer du hans Hoved, bans Høvdinger splittes.
15 [But] thou didst pass along over the sea with thy horses, over the piled up billows of great waters.
Du tramper hans Heste i Havet, i de mange Vandes Dynd.
16 I heard it, and my inmost parts trembled; at the report my lips quivered; rottenness entered into my bones, and I trembled in my place, that I should rest till the day of distress, till the withdrawing of the people that will invade us with its troops.
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 på Trængselens Dag over Folket, som volder os Krig.
17 For the fig-tree doth not bud, and no fruit is on the vines; the productiveness of the olive deceiveth, and the fields yield no food; from the fold the flocks are cut off, and there are no herds in the stalls.
Thi Figentræet blomstrer ikke, Vinstokken giver intet, Olietræets Afgrøde svigter, Markerne giver ej Føde. Fårene svandt af Folden, i Staldene findes ej Okser.
18 Yet will I rejoice in the Lord, I will exult in the God of my salvation.
Men jeg vil frydes i HERREN, juble i min Frelses Gud.
19 The Lord Eternal is my strength, and he maketh my feet fleet as those of the hinds, and he will cause me to tread upon my high places. To the chief musician of my songs.
Den Herre HERREN er min Styrke, han gør mine Fødder som Hindens og lader mig gå på mine Høje. Til Sangmesteren. Med Strengespil.
