1 A prayer of Habak'kuk the prophet, according to Shigion'oth.
2 O LORD, I have heard the report of thee, and thy work, O LORD, do I fear. In the midst of the years renew it; in the midst of the years make it known; in wrath remember mercy.
3 God came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount Paran. His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of his praise. Selah
4 His brightness was like the light, rays flashed from his hand; and there he veiled his power.
5 Before him went pestilence, and plague followed close behind.
6 He stood and measured the earth; he looked and shook the nations; then the eternal mountains were scattered, the everlasting hills sank low. His ways were as of old.
7 I saw the tents of Cushan in affliction; the curtains of the land of Mid'ian did tremble.
8 Was thy wrath against the rivers, O LORD? Was thy anger against the rivers, or thy indignation against the sea, when thou didst ride upon thy horses, upon thy chariot of victory?
9 Thou didst strip the sheath from thy bow, and put the arrows to the string. Selah Thou didst cleave the earth with rivers.
10 The mountains saw thee, and writhed; the raging waters swept on; the deep gave forth its voice, it lifted its hands on high.
11 The sun and moon stood still in their habitation at the light of thine arrows as they sped, at the flash of thy glittering spear.
12 Thou didst bestride the earth in fury, thou didst trample the nations in anger.
13 Thou wentest forth for the salvation of thy people, for the salvation of thy anointed. Thou didst crush the head of the wicked, laying him bare from thigh to neck. Selah
14 Thou didst pierce with thy shafts the head of his warriors, who came like a whirlwind to scatter me, rejoicing as if to devour the poor in secret.
15 Thou didst trample the sea with thy horses, the surging of mighty waters.
16 I hear, and my body trembles, my lips quiver at the sound; rottenness enters into my bones, my steps totter beneath me. I will quietly wait for the day of trouble to come upon people who invade us.
17 Though the fig tree do not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls,
18 yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation.
19 GOD, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like hinds' feet, he makes me tread upon my high places. To the choirmaster: with stringed instruments.