Psalms 144
1 David’s. Blessed be Yahweh, my Rock, who teacheth my hands to war, my fingers to fight:
A psalm of David. Praise the Lord—he is my rock. He trains me for battle, he gives me skill for war.
2 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.
He is the one who faithfully loves me, protects me, and defends me. He is the one who rescues me, shields me from danger, and keeps me safe. He defeats nations and places them under my rule.
3 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:
Lord, what are human beings that you should care about them? What are people that you should concern yourself with them?
4 The earthborn, resembleth, a vapour, his days, are like a passing shadow.
Humanity is like a breath; their lives are like a passing shadow.
5 O Yahweh! bow thy heavens and come down, Touch the mountains, that they smoke:
Part your heavens and come down. Touch the mountains so that they give off smoke.
6 Flash forth lightning, that thou mayest scatter them, Send out thine arrows, that thou mayest confound them:
Scatter your enemies with flashes of lightning! Let your arrows fly and send them running in confusion!
7 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,
Stretch down your hand from heaven and set me free. Rescue me from raging waters, from the oppression of foreign enemies.
8 Whose mouth, hath spoken deceit, and, whose right hand, is a right hand of falsehood.
They are such liars, even telling lies under oath.
9 O God! a new song, will I sing unto thee, —On a harp of ten strings, will I make music to thee:
God, I will sing a new song to you, accompanied by a ten-stringed harp,
10 Who giveth victory unto kings—Who snatcheth away David his servant, from the calamitous sword.
to you, the one who gives victory to kings. You saved your servant David from death by the sword.
11 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: —
Set me free. Rescue me from the oppression of foreign enemies. They are such liars, even telling lies under oath.
12 That, our sons, may be like plants well grown while yet young, —Our daughters, like corner pillars, —carved, in the construction of a palace:
Then our sons will grow up like plants in their youth and become mature, and our daughters will be like beautiful pillars carved to support a palace.
13 Our garners, full, pouring out from one kind to another; Our flocks, multiplying by thousands—by myriads, in our open fields:
Our storehouses will be full of all kinds of crops; our flocks of sheep will grow by thousands, increasing by tens of thousands in the pastures.
14 Our oxen, well-laden; no breaking in and no departing, —and no loud lament in our places of concourse: —
Our cattle will grow fat. No one will break down our city walls, there will be no exile, no cries of mourning in our town squares.
15 How happy the people that is in such a case! How happy the people that hath Yahweh for its God!
The people who live like this will be happy. Happy are those whose God is the Lord.
