Psalms 144
1 `A salm. Blessid be my Lord God, that techith myn hondis to werre; and my fyngris to batel.
Blessed be the LORD, my rock, Who teacheth my hands to war, And my fingers to fight!
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 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 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 thou art mindful of him, Or the son of man, that thou makest account of him?
4 A man is maad lijk vanyte; hise daies passen as schadow.
Man is like a vapor; His day is like a shadow that passeth away.
5 Lord, bowe doun thin heuenes, and come thou doun; touche thou hillis, and thei schulen make smoke.
Bow thy heavens, O LORD! and come down; Touch the mountains, so that they shall smoke!
6 Leite thou schynyng, and thou schalt scatere hem; sende thou out thin arowis, and thou schalt disturble hem.
Cast forth lightnings, and scatter them; Shoot forth thine arrows, and destroy them!
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.
Send forth thine hand from above; Rescue and save me from deep waters; From the hands of aliens,
8 The mouth of which spak vanite; and the riythond of hem is the riyt hond of wickidnesse.
Whose mouth uttereth deceit, And whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood!
9 God, Y schal synge to thee a new song; I schal seie salm to thee in a sautre of ten stringis.
I will sing to thee a new song, O God! Upon a ten-stringed psaltery will I sing praise to thee;
10 Which yyuest heelthe to kingis; which ayen bouytist Dauid, thi seruaunt, fro the wickid swerd rauische thou out me.
To thee, who givest salvation to kings, Who deliverest David, thy servant, from the destructive 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.
Rescue and deliver me from the hands of aliens, Whose mouth uttereth deceit, And whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood!
12 Whose sones ben; as new plauntingis in her yongthe. The douytris of hem ben arayed; ourned about as the licnesse of the temple.
That our sons may be as plants, Grown up in their youth; Our daughters as corner-pillars, Hewn like those of a palace!
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;
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 her kien ben fatte. `No falling of wal is, nether passing ouere; nether cry is in the stretis of hem.
That our cattle may be fruitful; That there be no breaking in, or going out; And no outcry in our streets.
15 Thei seiden, `The puple is blessid, that hath these thingis; blessid is the puple, whos Lord is the God of it.
Happy the people that is in such a state! Yea, happy the people whose God is Jehovah!
