Habakkuk 3

¹A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet concerning erring ones: ²O Jehovah, I heard thy report, I have been afraid, O Jehovah, Thy work! in midst of years revive it, In the midst of years Thou makest known In anger Thou dost remember mercy.

³God from Teman doth come, The Holy One from mount Paran. Pause! Covered the heavens hath His majesty, And His praise hath filled the earth. ⁴And the brightness is as the light, He hath rays out of His hand, And there—the hiding of His strength. ⁵Before Him goeth pestilence, And a burning flame goeth forth at His feet. ⁶He hath stood, and He measureth earth, He hath seen, and He shaketh off nations, And scatter themselves do mountains of antiquity, Bowed have the hills of old, The ways of old are His. ⁷Under sorrow I have seen tents of Cushan, Tremble do curtains of the land of Midian. ⁸Against rivers hath Jehovah been wroth? Against rivers is Thine anger? Against the sea is Thy wrath? For Thou dost ride on Thy horses—Thy chariots of salvation? ⁹Utterly naked Thou dost make Thy bow, Sworn are the tribes—saying, ‘Pause!’ With rivers Thou dost cleave the earth. ¹⁰Seen thee—pained are mountains, An inundation of waters hath passed over, Given forth hath the deep its voice, High its hands it hath lifted up. ¹¹Sun—moon—hath stood—a habitation, At the light thine arrows go on, At the brightness, the glittering of thy spear. ¹²In indignation Thou dost tread earth, In anger Thou dost thresh nations. ¹³Thou hast gone forth for the salvation of Thy people, For salvation with Thine anointed, Thou hast smitten the head of the house of the wicked, Laying bare the foundation unto the neck. Pause! ¹⁴Thou hast pierced with his staves the head of his leaders, They are tempestuous to scatter me, Their exultation is as to consume the poor in secret. ¹⁵Thou hast proceeded through the sea with Thy horses—the clay of many waters.

¹⁶I have heard, and my belly trembleth, At the noise have my lips quivered, Rottenness doth come into my bones, And in my place I do tremble, That I rest for a day of distress, At the coming up of the people, he overcometh it. ¹⁷Though the fig-tree doth not flourish, And there is no produce among vines, Failed hath the work of the olive, And fields have not yielded food, Cut off from the fold hath been the flock, And there is no herd in the stalls. ¹⁸Yet I, in Jehovah I exult, I do joy in the God of my salvation. ¹⁹Jehovah the Lord is my strength, And He doth make my feet like hinds, And on my high-places causeth me to tread. To the overseer with my stringed instruments!

Chapter 1