Psalms 144
1 `A salm. Blessid be my Lord God, that techith myn hondis to werre; and my fyngris to batel.
By David. Blessed [is] Jehovah my rock, who is teaching My hands for war, my fingers for 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 kind one, and my bulwark, My tower, and my deliverer, My shield, and in whom I have trusted, Who is subduing 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?
Jehovah, what [is] man that Thou knowest him? Son of man, that Thou esteemest him?
4 A man is maad lijk vanyte; hise daies passen as schadow.
Man to vanity hath been like, His days [are] as a shadow passing by.
5 Lord, bowe doun thin heuenes, and come thou doun; touche thou hillis, and thei schulen make smoke.
Jehovah, incline Thy heavens and come down, Strike against mountains, and they smoke.
6 Leite thou schynyng, and thou schalt scatere hem; sende thou out thin arowis, and thou schalt disturble hem.
Send forth lightning, and scatter them, Send forth Thine arrows, and trouble 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 Thy hand from on high, Free me, and deliver me from many waters, From the hand of sons of a stranger,
8 The mouth of which spak vanite; and the riythond of hem is the riyt hond of wickidnesse.
Because their mouth hath spoken vanity, And their 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.
O God, a new song I sing to Thee, On a psaltery of ten strings 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.
Who is giving deliverance to kings, Who is freeing David His servant from the sword of evil.
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.
Free me, and deliver me From the hand of sons of a stranger, Because their mouth hath spoken vanity, And their 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.
Because our sons [are] as plants, Becoming great in their youth, Our daughters as hewn stones, Polished — the likeness 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;
Our garners [are] full, bringing out from kind to kind, Our flocks are bringing forth thousands, Ten thousands in our out-places,
14 her kien ben fatte. `No falling of wal is, nether passing ouere; nether cry is in the stretis of hem.
Our oxen are carrying, there is no breach, And there is no outgoing, And there is no crying in our broad places.
15 Thei seiden, `The puple is blessid, that hath these thingis; blessid is the puple, whos Lord is the God of it.
O the happiness of the people that is thus, O the happiness of the people whose God [is] Jehovah!
