Psalms 144
1 `A salm. Blessid be my Lord God, that techith myn hondis to werre; and my fyngris to batel.
By David. Blessed be the LORD, my rock, who trains my hands to war, and my fingers to battle—
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.
my loving kindness, my fortress, my high tower, my deliverer, my shield, and he in whom I take refuge, who subdues my people 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 you care for him? Or the son of man, that you think of him?
4 A man is maad lijk vanyte; hise daies passen as schadow.
Man is like a breath. His days are like a shadow that passes away.
5 Lord, bowe doun thin heuenes, and come thou doun; touche thou hillis, and thei schulen make smoke.
Part your heavens, LORD, and come down. Touch the mountains, and they will smoke.
6 Leite thou schynyng, and thou schalt scatere hem; sende thou out thin arowis, and thou schalt disturble hem.
Throw out lightning, and scatter them. Send out your arrows, and rout 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.
Stretch out your hand from above, rescue me, and deliver me out of great waters, out of the hands of foreigners,
8 The mouth of which spak vanite; and the riythond of hem is the riyt hond of wickidnesse.
whose mouths speak deceit, 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 a new song to you, God. On a ten-stringed lyre, I will sing praises to you.
10 Which yyuest heelthe to kingis; which ayen bouytist Dauid, thi seruaunt, fro the wickid swerd rauische thou out me.
You are he who gives salvation to kings, who rescues David, his servant, from the deadly 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 me, and deliver me out of the hands of foreigners, whose mouths speak deceit, 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.
Then our sons will be like well-nurtured plants, our daughters like pillars carved to adorn 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;
Our barns are full, filled with all kinds of provision. Our sheep produce 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 will pull heavy loads. There is no breaking in, and no going away, 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 are the people who are in such a situation. Happy are the people whose God is the LORD.
