Psalms 144
1 By David. Blessed be Yahweh, my rock, who trains my hands to war, and my fingers to battle—
`A salm. Blessid be my Lord God, that techith myn hondis to werre; and my fyngris to batel.
2 my loving kindness, my fortress, my high tower, my deliverer, my shield, and he in whom I take refuge, who subdues my people under me.
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.
3 Yahweh, what is man, that you care for him? Or the son of man, that you think of him?
Lord, what is a man, for thou hast maad knowun to him; ether the sone of man, for thou arettist him of sum valu?
4 Man is like a breath. His days are like a shadow that passes away.
A man is maad lijk vanyte; hise daies passen as schadow.
5 Part your heavens, Yahweh, and come down. Touch the mountains, and they will smoke.
Lord, bowe doun thin heuenes, and come thou doun; touche thou hillis, and thei schulen make smoke.
6 Throw out lightning, and scatter them. Send out your arrows, and rout them.
Leite thou schynyng, and thou schalt scatere hem; sende thou out thin arowis, and thou schalt disturble hem.
7 Stretch out your hand from above, rescue me, and deliver me out of great waters, out of the hands of foreigners,
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.
8 whose mouths speak deceit, whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
The mouth of which spak vanite; and the riythond of hem is the riyt hond of wickidnesse.
9 I will sing a new song to you, God. On a ten-stringed lyre, I will sing praises to you.
God, Y schal synge to thee a new song; I schal seie salm to thee in a sautre of ten stringis.
10 You are he who gives salvation to kings, who rescues David, his servant, from the deadly sword.
Which yyuest heelthe to kingis; which ayen bouytist Dauid, thi seruaunt, fro the wickid swerd rauische thou out me.
11 Rescue me, and deliver me out of the hands of foreigners, whose mouths speak deceit, whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
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.
12 Then our sons will be like well-nurtured plants, our daughters like pillars carved to adorn a palace.
Whose sones ben; as new plauntingis in her yongthe. The douytris of hem ben arayed; ourned about as the licnesse of the temple.
13 Our barns are full, filled with all kinds of provision. Our sheep produce thousands and ten thousands in our fields.
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;
14 Our oxen will pull heavy loads. There is no breaking in, and no going away, and no outcry in our streets.
her kien ben fatte. `No falling of wal is, nether passing ouere; nether cry is in the stretis of hem.
15 Happy are the people who are in such a situation. Happy are the people whose God is Yahweh.
Thei seiden, `The puple is blessid, that hath these thingis; blessid is the puple, whos Lord is the God of it.
