Habakkuk 3
1 A prayer of Habakkuk, the prophet, set to victorious music.
En Bøn af Profeten Habakkuk. Al-sjigjonot.
2 YHWH, I have heard of your fame. I stand in awe of your deeds, YHWH. Renew your work in the midst of the years. In the midst of the years make it known. In wrath, you remember 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, and his praise filled the earth.
Gud drager frem fra Teman, den Hellige fra Parans Bjerge. (Sela) Hans Højhed skjuler Himlen, hans Herlighed fylder Jorden.
4 His splendor is like the sunrise. Rays shine from his hand, where his power is hidden.
Under ham er Glans som Ild, fra hans Side udgaar Straaler; der er hans Vælde i Skjul.
5 Plague went before him, and pestilence followed his feet.
Foran ham vandrer Pest, og efter ham følger Sot.
6 He stood, and shook the earth. He looked, and made the nations tremble. The ancient mountains were crumbled. The age-old hills collapsed. 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 in affliction. The dwellings of the land of Midian trembled.
Kusjans Telte bæver, Telttæpperne i Midjans Land.
8 Was YHWH displeased with the rivers? Was your anger against the rivers, or your wrath against the sea, that you rode on your horses, on your 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 uncovered your bow. You called for your sworn arrows. (Selah) You split the earth with rivers.
Din Bue kom blottet til Syne, din Buestreng mætter du med Pile. (Sela) Du kløver Jorden i Strømme,
10 The mountains saw you, and were afraid. The storm of waters passed by. The deep roared and lifted up its hands on high.
Bjergene ser dig og skælver. Skyerne nedsender Regnskyl, og Afgrunden løfter sin Røst.
11 The sun and moon stood still in the sky, at the light of your arrows as they went, at the shining of your glittering spear.
Solen glemmer at staa op, Maanen bliver i sit Bo; de flygter for Skinnet af dine Pile, for Glansen af dit lynende Spyd.
12 You marched through the land in wrath. You threshed the nations in anger.
I Harme skrider du hen over Jorden, du nedtramper Folk i Vrede.
13 You went forth for the salvation of your people, for the salvation of your anointed. You crushed the head of the land of wickedness. You stripped them head to foot. (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 You pierced the heads of his warriors with their own spears. They came as a whirlwind to scatter me, gloating as if to devour the wretched in secret.
Med dit Spyd gennemborer du hans Hoved, hans Høvdinger splittes.
15 You trampled the sea with your horses, churning mighty waters.
Du tramper hans Heste i Havet, i de mange Vandes Dynd.
16 I heard, and my body trembled. My lips quivered at the voice. Rottenness enters into my bones, and I tremble in my place, because I must wait quietly for the day of trouble, for the coming up of the people who invade 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 For though the fig tree doesn't flourish, nor fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive fails, the fields yield no food; the flocks are cut off from the fold, and there is no herd 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 yet I will rejoice in YHWH. I will be joyful in the God of my salvation.
Men jeg vil frydes i HERREN, juble i min Frelses Gud.
19 YHWH is my strength. He makes my feet like deer's feet, and enables me to go in high places. For the music director, on 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.
