A Psalm. — A Song for the sabbath-day. Good to give thanks to Jehovah, And to sing praises to Thy name, O Most High,
To declare in the morning Thy kindness, And Thy faithfulness in the nights.
On ten strings and on psaltery, On higgaion, with harp.
For Thou hast caused me to rejoice, O Jehovah, in Thy work, Concerning the works of Thy hands I sing.
How great have been Thy works, O Jehovah, Very deep have been Thy thoughts.
A brutish man doth not know, And a fool understandeth not this; —
When the wicked flourish as a herb, And blossom do all workers of iniquity — For their being destroyed for ever and ever!
And Thou art high to the age, O Jehovah.
For, lo, Thine enemies, O Jehovah, For, lo, Thine enemies, do perish, Separate themselves do all workers of iniquity.
And Thou exaltest as a reem my horn, I have been anointed with fresh oil.
And mine eye looketh on mine enemies, Of those rising up against me, The evil doers, do mine ears hear.
The righteous as a palm-tree flourisheth, As a cedar in Lebanon he groweth.
Those planted in the house of Jehovah, In the courts of our God do flourish.
Still they bring forth in old age, Fat and flourishing are they,
To declare that upright is Jehovah my rock, And there is no perverseness in Him!