Psalms 21
1 To the Chief Musician. A Melody of David. O Yahweh, in thy strength, will the king rejoice, and, in thy salvation, how greatly will he exult!
(Til sangmesteren. En salme af David.) HERRE, Kongen er glad ved din Vælde, hvor frydes han højlig over din Frelse!
2 The longing of his heart, hast thou given him, and, the request of his lips, hast thou not withheld. (Selah)
Hvad hans Hjerte ønskede, gav du ham, du afslog ikke hans Læbers Bøn. (Sela)
3 For thou wilt come to meet him, with the blessings of goodness, Thou wilt set on his head, a crown of pure gold.
Du kom ham i Møde med rig Velsignelse, satte en Krone af Guld på hans Hoved.
4 Life, he asked of thee, Thou hast given it him, length of days, to times age-abiding and beyond.
Han bad dig om Liv, og du gav ham det, en Række af Dage uden Ende.
5 Great is his glory, in thy salvation, Honour and majesty, wilt thou lay upon him;
Stor er hans Glans ved din Frelse, Højhed og Hæder lægger du på ham.
6 For thou wilt appoint him blessings evermore, wilt cheer him with joy by thy countenance;
Ja, evig Velsignelse gav du ham, med Fryd for dit Åsyn glæded du ham.
7 For, the king, is trusting in Yahweh, and, in the lovingkindness of the Highest, shall he not be shaken.
Thi Kongen stoler på HERREN, ved den Højestes Nåde rokkes han ikke.
8 Thy hand, will find out, all thy foes, Thine own right hand, will find out them who hate thee.
Til alle dine Fjender når din Hånd, din højre når dine Avindsmænd.
9 Thou wilt make them like a furnace of fire, at the time of thy presence, —Yahweh, in his anger, will swallow them up, and there shall consume them a fire:
Du gør dem til et luende Bål, når du viser dig; HERREN sluger dem i sin Vrede. Ild fortærer dem.
10 Their fruit—out of the earth, wilt thou destroy, and their seed, from among the sons of men;
Du rydder bort deres Frugt af Jorden, deres Sæd blandt Menneskens Børn.
11 For they have held out, against thee, a wicked thing, They have devised a scheme they cannot accomplish.
Thi de søger at volde dig ondt, spinder Rænker, men evner intet;
12 For thou wilt cause them to turn their back, Upon thy bow-strings, wilt thou make ready against their face.
thi du slår dem på Flugt, med din Bue sigter du mod deres Ansigt.
13 Be exalted, O Yahweh, in thy strength! With song and with string will we sound forth thy power.
HERRE, stå op i din Vælde, med Sang og med Spil vil vi prise dit Storværk!
