Psalms 144

Psalm 144

Of David.

Blest be the  Lord my rock,
who trains my hands for war,
my fingers for fighting.
My rock and my fortress,
my tower, my deliverer,
my shield, behind whom I take refuge,
who lays nations low at my feet.

 Lord, what are mortals
that you care for them,
humans,
that you think of them?
They are like a breath,
their days as a shadow that passes.

 Lord, bow your heavens and come down:
touch the hills, so that they smoke.
Flash forth lightning and scatter them,
your arrows send forth and confound them.

Stretch out your hand from on high;
pluck me out of the mighty waters,
out of the hands of foreigners,
who speak with the mouth of falsehood,
and lift their right hand to swear lies.

O God, a new song I would sing you,
on a ten-stringed harp make you music.
10 For to kings you give the victory,
and David your servant you save.
11 Snatch me from the cruel sword,
rescue me from the hand of foreigners,
who speak with the mouth of falsehood,
and lift their right hand to swear lies.
12 May our sons in their youth
be as plants well tended:
our daughters like cornices
carved as in palaces.

13 May our barns be bursting
with produce of all kinds.
In the fields may our sheep bear
by thousands and ten thousands.

14 May our cattle be fat,
our walls unbreached,
may no cry of distress
ring in our streets.

15 Happy the people
who fares so well:
and so fares the people
whose God is the  Lord.
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