Psalm 144

Blessed be God, my Rock, who teacheth my hands to war, my fingers to fight:

My lovingkindness and my stronghold, my high tower and my deliverer—mine! My buckler, and he in whom I have sought refuge,—He that subdueth my people under me.

O God! what is the earthborn, And yet thou hast acknowledged him,—the son of a mortal, And yet thou hast taken account of him:

The earthborn, resembleth, a vapour, his days, are like a passing shadow.

O God! bow thy heavens and come down, Touch the mountains, that they smoke:

Flash forth lightning, that thou mayest scatter them, Send out thine arrows, that thou mayest confound them:

Put forth thy hands from on high:—Snatch me away and rescue me out of mighty waters, out of the hand of the sons of the alien,

Whose mouth, hath spoken deceit, and, whose right hand, is a right hand of falsehood.

O God! a new song, will I sing unto thee,—On a harp of ten strings, will I make music to thee:

Who giveth victory unto kings—Who snatcheth away David his servant, from the calamitous sword.

Snatch me away and rescue me out of he hand of the sons of the alien,—whose mouth hath spoken deceit, and, whose right hand, is a right hand of falsehood:—

That, our sons, may be like plants well grown while yet young,—Our daughters, like corner pillars,—carved, in the construction of a palace:

Our garners, full, pouring out from one kind to another; Our flocks, multiplying by thousands—by myriads, in our open fields:

Our oxen, well-laden; no breaking in and no departing,—and no loud lament in our places of concourse:—

How happy the people that is in such a case! How happy the people that hath God for its God!