Blessed be the Lord, my rock
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Blessed be the LORD, my rock, who trains my hands to war, and my fingers to battle—
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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.
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LORD, what is man, that you care for him? Or the son of man, that you think of him?
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Man is like a breath. His days are like a shadow that passes away.
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Part your heavens, LORD, and come down. Touch the mountains, and they will smoke.
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Throw out lightning, and scatter them. Send out your arrows, and rout them.
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Stretch out your hand from above, rescue me, and deliver me out of great waters, out of the hands of foreigners,
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whose mouths speak deceit, whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
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I will sing a new song to you, God. On a ten-stringed lyre, I will sing praises to you.
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You are he who gives salvation to kings, who rescues David, his servant, from the deadly sword.
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Rescue me, and deliver me out of the hands of foreigners, whose mouths speak deceit, whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
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Then our sons will be like well-nurtured plants, our daughters like pillars carved to adorn a palace.
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Our barns are full, filled with all kinds of provision. Our sheep produce thousands and ten thousands in our fields.
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Our oxen will pull heavy loads. There is no breaking in, and no going away, and no outcry in our streets.
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Happy are the people who are in such a situation. Happy are the people whose God is the LORD.