Psalms 144
1 `A salm. Blessid be my Lord God, that techith myn hondis to werre; and my fyngris to batel.
A Psalm. Of David. Praise be to the God of my strength, teaching my hands the use of the sword, and my fingers the art of fighting:
2 Mi merci, and my refuyt; my takere vp, and my delyuerer. Mi defender, and Y hopide in him; and thou makist suget my puple vnder me.
He is my strength, and my Rock; my high tower, and my saviour; my keeper and my hope: he gives me authority over my people.
3 Lord, what is a man, for thou hast maad knowun to him; ether the sone of man, for thou arettist him of sum valu?
Lord, what is man, that you keep him in mind? or the son of man that you take him into account?
4 A man is maad lijk vanyte; hise daies passen as schadow.
Man is like a breath: his life is like a shade which is quickly gone.
5 Lord, bowe doun thin heuenes, and come thou doun; touche thou hillis, and thei schulen make smoke.
Come down, O Lord, from your heavens: at your touch let the mountains give out smoke.
6 Leite thou schynyng, and thou schalt scatere hem; sende thou out thin arowis, and thou schalt disturble hem.
With your storm-flames send them in flight: send out your arrows for their destruction.
7 Sende out thin hond fro an hiy, rauysche thou me out, and delyuere thou me fro many watris; and fro the hond of alien sones.
Put out your hand from on high; make me free, take me safely out of the great waters, and out of the hands of strange men;
8 The mouth of which spak vanite; and the riythond of hem is the riyt hond of wickidnesse.
In whose mouths are false words, and whose right hand is a right hand of deceit.
9 God, Y schal synge to thee a new song; I schal seie salm to thee in a sautre of ten stringis.
I will make a new song to you, O God; I will make melody to you on an instrument of ten cords.
10 Which yyuest heelthe to kingis; which ayen bouytist Dauid, thi seruaunt, fro the wickid swerd rauische thou out me.
It is God who gives salvation to kings; and who kept his servant David from the wounding sword.
11 And delyuere thou me fro `the hond of alien sones; the mouth of whiche spak vanyte, and the riythond of hem is the riyt hond of wickidnesse.
Make me free, and take me out of the hands of strange men, in whose mouths are false words, and whose right hand is a right hand of deceit.
12 Whose sones ben; as new plauntingis in her yongthe. The douytris of hem ben arayed; ourned about as the licnesse of the temple.
Our sons are like tall young plants; and our daughters like the shining stones of a king's house;
13 The selers of hem ben fulle; bringinge out fro this vessel in to that. The scheep of hem ben with lambre, plenteuouse in her goingis out;
Our store-houses are full of all good things; and our sheep give birth to thousands and ten thousands in our fields.
14 her kien ben fatte. `No falling of wal is, nether passing ouere; nether cry is in the stretis of hem.
Our oxen are well weighted down; our cows give birth safely; there is no going out, and there is no cry of sorrow in our open places.
15 Thei seiden, `The puple is blessid, that hath these thingis; blessid is the puple, whos Lord is the God of it.
Happy is the nation whose ways are so ordered: yes, happy is the nation whose God is the Lord.
