Psalms 36

1 To the chief music-maker. Of the servant of the Lord. Of David. The sin of the evil-doer says in his heart, There is no fear of the Lord before his eyes.

Til Sangmesteren. Af HERRENS Tjener David.

2 For he takes comfort in the thought that his sin will not be uncovered and hated.

Synden taler til den gudløse inde i hans Hjerte; Gudsfrygt har han ikke for Øje;

3 In the words of his mouth are evil and deceit; he has given up being wise and doing good.

thi den smigrer ham frækt og siger, at ingen skal finde hans Brøde og hade ham.

4 He gives thought to evil on his bed; he takes a way which is not good; he is not a hater of evil.

Hans Munds Ord er Uret og Svig, han har ophørt at handle klogt og godt;

5 Your mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens, and your strong purpose is as high as the clouds.

paa sit Leje udtænker han Uret, han træder en Vej, som ikke er god; det onde afskyr han ikke.

6 Your righteousness is like the mountains of God; your judging is like the great deep; O Lord, you give life to man and beast.

HERRE, din Miskundhed rækker til Himlen, din Trofasthed naar til Skyerne,

7 How good is your loving mercy, O God! the children of men take cover under the shade of your wings.

din Retfærd er som Guds Bjerge, dine Domme som det store Dyb; HERRE, du frelser Folk og Fæ,

8 The delights of your house will be showered on them; you will give them drink from the river of your pleasures.

hvor dyrebar er dog din Miskundhed, Gud! Og Menneskebørnene skjuler sig i dine Vingers Skygge;

9 For with you is the fountain of life: in your light we will see light.

de kvæges ved dit Huses Fedme, du læsker dem af din Lifligheds Strøm;

10 O let there be no end to your loving mercy to those who have knowledge of you, or of your righteousness to the upright in heart.

thi hos dig er Livets Kilde, i dit Lys skuer vi Lys!

11 Let not the foot of pride come against me, or the hand of the evil-doers put me out of my place.

Lad din Miskundhed blive over dem, der kender dig, din Retfærd over de oprigtige af Hjertet.

12 There the workers of evil have come down: they have been made low, and will not be lifted up.

Lad Hovmods Fod ej træde mig ned, gudløses Haand ej jage mig bort. Se, Udaadsmændene falder, slaas ned, saa de ikke kan rejse sig.