Psalm
144 Thursday Evening 4
Blessed be Yahweh my mountain, * who trained my hands for warfare, * my
arms for battle.
My rampart and my fortress, *
my bulwark and refuge,
my Master, in him I trust, *
who prostrated peoples at my feet.
Yahweh, what is man that
you care about him, * the son of man that you think about him?
Man is like the vapor; *
his days like a passing shadow.
Yahweh, bow your heavens
and descend; * touch the mountains, make them smoke.
Flash your bolts and
scatter them; * forge your arrows and disperse them.
Stretch forth your hands
from high; * snatch me and rescue me
from the Deep Waters, *
from the hand of foreigners,
whose mouth speaks lies, *
and whose right hand is perjured.
God, let me sing a new song to
you; * on the ten-stringed lyre let me play to you,
who gave victory to your king, * who rescued David your servant.
From the sword of the Evil One snatch me, * and rescue me from the hand
of foreigners,
whose mouth speaks lies, * and whose right hand is perjured.
May he bless our sons like plants, * carefully trained from their youth,
our daughters like pillars, * carved for the structure of a palace.
May our barns be filled, *
reaching from end to end.
May our sheep bring forth
thousands, * become tens of thousands in our pastures; * may our cattle be well
fed.
Let there be no invasion or exile * nor outcry in our squares.
Happy the people of whom this is so; * happy the people whose God is
Yahweh!