Chapter 143

Blessed be the Lord, my refuge, who makes these hands strong for battle, these fingers skilled in fight;

the Lord who pities me and grants me safety, who shelters me and sets me at liberty, who protects me and gives me confidence, bowing down nations to my will.

Lord, what is Adam’s race, that thou givest heed to it, what is man, that thou carest for him?

Like the wind he goes, like a shadow his days pass.

Bid heaven stoop, Lord, and come down to earth; at thy touch, the mountains will be wreathed in smoke.

Brandish thy lightnings, to rout my enemies; shoot thy arrows, and throw them into confusion!

With heavenly aid, from yonder flood deliver me; rescue me from the power of alien foes,

who make treacherous promises, and lift their hands in perjury.

Then, O my God, I will sing thee a new song, on a ten-stringed harp I will sound thy praise;

the God to whom kings must look for victory, the God who has brought his servant David rescue.

Save me from the cruel sword, deliver me from the power of alien foes, who make treacherous promises, and lift their hands in perjury.

So may our sons grow to manhood, tall as the saplings, our daughters shapely as some column at the turn of a building, it may be, the temple itself.

Our garners full, well stored with every kind of plenty, our sheep bearing a thousand-fold, thronging the pasture in their tens of thousands,

our oxen straining at the load; no ruined walls, no exile, no lamenting in our streets.

Happy men call such a people as this; and is not the people happy, that has the Lord for its God?