The heavens declare the glory of God,
the vault of heaven proclaims His handiwork;
day discourses of it to day,
night to night hands on the knowledge.
No utterance at all, no speech,
no sound that anyone can hear;
yet their voice goes out through all the Earth,
and their message to the ends of the world.
High above, He pitched a tent for the sun,
who comes out of His pavilion like a bridegroom,
exulting like a hero to run His race.
He has His rising on the edge of heaven,
the end of His course in its furthest edge,
and nothing can escape His heat.
The Law of Yahweh is perfect,
new life for the soul;
the decree of Yahweh is trustworthy,
wisdom for the simple.
The precepts of Yahweh are upright,
joy for the heart;
the commandment of Yahweh is clear,
light for the eyes.
The fear of Yahweh is pure,
lasting for ever;
the judgements of Yahweh are true,
righteous, every one,
more desirable than gold,
even than the finest gold.
His words are sweeter than honey,
even than the honey that drips from the comb.
Thus Your servant is formed by them,
observance brings great reward.
But who can detect his own failings?
Wash out my hidden faults.
And from pride preserve Your servant,
never let it dominate me.
So shall I be above reproach,
free from grave sin.
May the words of my mouth always find favour,
and the whispering of my heart,
in Your Presence, Yahweh,
my Rock, my Redeemer!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem