Psalms 144
1 Of David. Blest be the Lord my rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for fighting.
Blessed be the LORD, my rock, Who teacheth my hands to war, And my fingers to fight!
2 My rock and my fortress, my tower, my deliverer, my shield, behind whom I take refuge, who lays nations low at my feet.
He who is my loving-kindness and my fortress; My high tower and my deliverer, My shield, and he in whom I trust; Who subdueth peoples under me.
3 Lord, what are mortals that you care for them, humans, that you think of them?
LORD, what is man, that thou art mindful of him, Or the son of man, that thou makest account of him?
4 They are like a breath, their days as a shadow that passes.
Man is like a vapor; His day is like a shadow that passeth away.
5 Lord, bow your heavens and come down: touch the hills, so that they smoke.
Bow thy heavens, O LORD! and come down; Touch the mountains, so that they shall smoke!
6 Flash forth lightning and scatter them, your arrows send forth and confound them.
Cast forth lightnings, and scatter them; Shoot forth thine arrows, and destroy them!
7 Stretch out your hand from on high; pluck me out of the mighty waters, out of the hands of foreigners,
Send forth thine hand from above; Rescue and save me from deep waters; From the hands of aliens,
8 who speak with the mouth of falsehood, and lift their right hand to swear lies.
Whose mouth uttereth deceit, And whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood!
9 O God, a new song I would sing you, on a ten-stringed harp make you music.
I will sing to thee a new song, O God! Upon a ten-stringed psaltery will I sing praise to thee;
10 For to kings you give the victory, and David your servant you save.
To thee, who givest salvation to kings, Who deliverest David, thy servant, from the destructive sword!
11 Snatch me from the cruel sword, rescue me from the hand of foreigners, who speak with the mouth of falsehood, and lift their right hand to swear lies.
Rescue and deliver me from the hands of aliens, Whose mouth uttereth deceit, And whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood!
12 May our sons in their youth be as plants well tended: our daughters like cornices carved as in palaces.
That our sons may be as plants, Grown up in their youth; Our daughters as corner-pillars, Hewn like those of a palace!
13 May our barns be bursting with produce of all kinds. In the fields may our sheep bear by thousands and ten thousands.
That our garners may be full, Affording all kinds of store; That our sheep may bring forth thousands And ten thousands in our streets.
14 May our cattle be fat, our walls unbreached, may no cry of distress ring in our streets.
That our cattle may be fruitful; That there be no breaking in, or going out; And no outcry in our streets.
15 Happy the people who fares so well: and so fares the people whose God is the Lord.
Happy the people that is in such a state! Yea, happy the people whose God is Jehovah!
