With his own spear you pierced his head when his warriors stormed out to scatter us,1 gloating as though about to devour the wretched2 who were in hiding.
You trampled the sea3 with your horses, churning the great waters.416
I heard and my heart pounded, my lips quivered at the sound; decay crept into my bones, and my legs trembled.5 Yet I will wait patiently6 for the day of calamity to come on the nation invading us.
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food,7 though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,818
yet I will rejoice in the LORD,9 I will be joyful in God my Savior.1019
The Sovereign LORD is my strength;11 he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.12 For the director of music. On my stringed instruments.