Yahweh, more and more are turning against me,
more and more rebelling against me,
more and more saying about me,
'There is no help for him in his God.'
But, Yahweh, my encircling shield,
my glory, You help me hold up my head.
Loudly I cry to Yahweh,
and He answers me from His holy mountain.
Now I can lie down and go to sleep
and then awake, for Yahweh has hold of me:
no tear of those tens of thousands
posted against me wherever I turn.
Rise, Yahweh!
Save me, my God!
You hack all my enemies to the cheekbone,
You break the teeth of the wicked.
From Yahweh, rescue.
On Your people, blessing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem