Habakkuk 3

1 A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet concerning erring ones:

(En Bøn af Profeten Hahakkuk. Al-sjigjonot.)

2 O Jehovah, I heard thy report, I have been afraid, O Jehovah, Thy work! in midst of years revive it, In the midst of years Thou makest known In anger Thou dost remember mercy.

HERRE, jeg har hørt dit Ry, jeg har skuet din Gerning, HERRE. Fuldbyrd det i Årenes Løb, åbenbar dig i Årenes Løb, kom Barmhjertighed i Hu under Vreden!

3 God from Teman doth come, The Holy One from mount Paran. (Pause) Covered the heavens hath His majesty, And His praise hath filled the earth.

Gud drager frem fra Teman, den Hellige fra Parans Bjerge. (Sela) Hans Højhed skjuler Himlen, hans Herlighed fylder Jorden.

4 And the brightness is as the light, He hath rays out of His hand, And there — the hiding of His strength.

Under ham er Glans som Ild, fra hans Side udgår Stråler; der er hans Vælde i Skjul.

5 Before Him goeth pestilence, And a burning flame goeth forth at His feet.

Foran ham vandrer Pest, og efter ham følger Sot.

6 He hath stood, and He measureth earth, He hath seen, and He shaketh off nations, And scatter themselves do mountains of antiquity, Bowed have the hills of old, The ways of old [are] His.

Hans Fjed får Jorden til at skælve, hans Blik får Folk til at bæve. De ældgamle Bjerge brister, de evige Høje synker, ad evige Stier går han.

7 Under sorrow I have seen tents of Cushan, Tremble do curtains of the land of Midian.

Kusjans Telte bæver, Telttæpperne i Midjans Land.

8 Against rivers hath Jehovah been wroth? Against rivers [is] Thine anger? Against the sea [is] Thy wrath? For Thou dost ride on Thy horses — Thy chariots of salvation?

Er HERREN da vred på Strømmene, gælder din Vrede Strømmene, gælder din Harme Havet, siden du farer frem på dine Heste og dine Vogne drøner.

9 Utterly naked Thou dost make Thy bow, Sworn are the tribes — saying, (Pause) [With] rivers Thou dost cleave the earth.

Din Bue kom blottet til Syne, din Buestreng mætter du med Pile. (Sela) Du kløver Jorden i Strømme,

10 Seen thee — pained are mountains, An inundation of waters hath passed over, Given forth hath the deep its voice, High its hands it hath lifted up.

Bjergene ser dig og skælver. Skyerne nedsender Regnskyl, og Afgrunden løfter sin Røst.

11 Sun — moon — hath stood — a habitation, At the light thine arrows go on, At the brightness, the glittering of thy spear.

Solen glemmer at stå op, Månen bliver i sit Bo; de flygter for Skinnet af dine Pile, for Glansen af dit lynende Spyd.

12 In indignation Thou dost tread earth, In anger Thou dost thresh nations.

I Harme skrider du hen over Jorden, du nedtramper Folk i Vrede.

13 Thou hast gone forth for the salvation of Thy people, For salvation with Thine anointed, Thou hast smitten the head of the house of the wicked, Laying bare the foundation unto the neck. (Pause)

Du drager ud til Frelse for dit Folk, ud for at frelse din Salvede. Du knuser den gudløses Hustag, blotter Grunden til Klippen. (Sela)

14 Thou hast pierced with his staves the head of his leaders, They are tempestuous to scatter me, Their exultation [is] as to consume the poor in secret.

Med dit Spyd gennemborer du hans Hoved, bans Høvdinger splittes.

15 Thou hast proceeded through the sea with Thy horses — the clay of many waters.

Du tramper hans Heste i Havet, i de mange Vandes Dynd.

16 I have heard, and my belly trembleth, At the noise have my lips quivered, Rottenness doth come into my bones, And in my place I do tremble, That I rest for a day of distress, At the coming up of the people, he overcometh it.

Jeg hørte det; da bæved min Krop, ved Braget skjalv mine Læber; Edder for i mine Ben, og under mig vakled mine Skridt. Jeg bier på Trængselens Dag over Folket, som volder os Krig.

17 Though the fig-tree doth not flourish, And there is no produce among vines, Failed hath the work of the olive, And fields have not yielded food, Cut off from the fold hath been the flock, And there is no herd in the stalls.

Thi Figentræet blomstrer ikke, Vinstokken giver intet, Olietræets Afgrøde svigter, Markerne giver ej Føde. Fårene svandt af Folden, i Staldene findes ej Okser.

18 Yet I, in Jehovah I exult, I do joy in the God of my salvation.

Men jeg vil frydes i HERREN, juble i min Frelses Gud.

19 Jehovah the Lord [is] my strength, And He doth make my feet like hinds, And on my high-places causeth me to tread. To the overseer with my stringed instruments!

Den Herre HERREN er min Styrke, han gør mine Fødder som Hindens og lader mig gå på mine Høje. Til Sangmesteren. Med Strengespil.