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Bow down Your heavens, O Lord, and come down; Touch the mountains, and they shall smoke.
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Flash forth lightning and scatter them; Shoot out Your arrows and destroy them.
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Stretch out Your hand from above; Rescue me and deliver me out of great waters, From the hand of foreigners,
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Whose mouth speaks vain words, And whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
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I will sing a new song to You, O God; On a harp of ten strings I will sing praises to You,
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The One who gives salvation to kings, Who delivers David His servant From the deadly sword.
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Rescue me and deliver me from the hand of foreigners, Whose mouth speaks lying words, And whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood--
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That our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth; That our daughters may be as pillars, Sculptured in palace style;
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That our barns may be full, Supplying all kinds of produce; That our sheep may bring forth thousands And ten thousands in our fields;
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That our oxen may be well-laden; That there be no breaking in or going out; That there be no outcry in our streets.
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Happy are the people who are in such a state; Happy are the people whose God is the Lord!