Blessed be God, my mountain, who trains me to fight fair and well.
He's the bedrock on which I stand, the castle in which I live, my rescuing knight, The high crag where I run for dear life, while he lays my enemies low.
I wonder why you care, God - why do you bother with us at all?
All we are is a puff of air; we're like shadows in a campfire.
Step down out of heaven, God; ignite volcanoes in the hearts of the mountains.
Hurl your lightnings in every direction; shoot your arrows this way and that.
Reach all the way from sky to sea: pull me out of the ocean of hate, out of the grip of those barbarians
Who lie through their teeth, who shake your hand then knife you in the back.
O God, let me sing a new song to you, let me play it on a twelve-string guitar -
A song to the God who saved the king, the God who rescued David, his servant.
Rescue me from the enemy sword, release me from the grip of those barbarians Who lie through their teeth, who shake your hand then knife you in the back.
Make our sons in their prime like sturdy oak trees, Our daughters as shapely and bright as fields of wildflowers.
Fill our barns with great harvest, fill our fields with huge flocks;
Protect us from invasion and exile - eliminate the crime in our streets.
How blessed the people who have all this! How blessed the people who have God for God!