003:001 A prayer of Habakkuk, the prophet, set to victorious music.
003:002 Yahweh, I have heard of your fame. I stand in awe of
your deeds, Yahweh. Renew your work in the midst of the years.
In the midst of the years make it known. In wrath,
you remember mercy.
003:003 God came from Teman, the Holy One from Mount Paran. Selah. His glory
covered the heavens, and his praise filled the earth.
003:004 His splendor is like the sunrise. Rays shine from his hand,
where his power is hidden.
003:005 Plague went before him, and pestilence followed his feet.
003:006 He stood, and shook the earth. He looked, and made
the nations tremble. The ancient mountains were crumbled.
The age-old hills collapsed. His ways are eternal.
003:007 I saw the tents of Cushan in affliction. The dwellings
of the land of Midian trembled.
003:008 Was Yahweh displeased with the rivers? Was your anger against
the rivers, or your wrath against the sea, that you rode
on your horses, on your chariots of salvation?
003:009 You uncovered your bow. You called for your sworn arrows.
Selah. You split the earth with rivers.
003:010 The mountains saw you, and were afraid. The storm of waters
passed by. The deep roared and lifted up its hands on high.
003:011 The sun and moon stood still in the sky, at the light of your
arrows as they went, at the shining of your glittering spear.
003:012 You marched through the land in wrath. You threshed
the nations in anger.
003:013 You went forth for the salvation of your people, for the salvation
of your anointed. You crushed the head of the land of wickedness.
You stripped them head to foot. Selah.
003:014 You pierced the heads of his warriors with their own spears.
They came as a whirlwind to scatter me, gloating as if to devour
the wretched in secret.
003:015 You trampled the sea with your horses, churning mighty waters.
003:016 I heard, and my body trembled. My lips quivered at the voice.
Rottenness enters into my bones, and I tremble in my place,
because I must wait quietly for the day of trouble,
for the coming up of the people who invade us.
003:017 For though the fig tree doesn't flourish, nor fruit be in the vines;
the labor of the olive fails, the fields yield no food;
the flocks are cut off from the fold, and there is no herd
in the stalls:
003:018 yet I will rejoice in Yahweh. I will be joyful in the God
of my salvation!
003:019 Yahweh, the Lord, is my strength. He makes my feet
like deer's feet, and enables me to go in high places.
For the music director, on my stringed instruments.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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