King James VersionHabakkuk3

Habakkuk

1 A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet upon Shi­gionoth. 2 O LORD, I have heard thy speech, and was afraid: O LORD, re­vive thy work in the midst of the years, in the midst of the years make known; in wrath re­mem­ber mer­cy. 3 God came from Te­man, and the Holy One from mount Paran. Se­lah. His glo­ry cov­ered the heav­ens, and the earth was full of his praise. 4 And his bright­ness was as the light; he had horns coming out of his hand: and there was the hid­ing of his pow­er. 5 Be­fore him went the pesti­lence, and burn­ing coals went forth at his feet. 6 He stood, and mea­sured the earth: he be­held, and drove asun­der the na­tions; and the ev­er­last­ing moun­tains were scat­tered, the per­pet­u­al hills did bow: his ways are ev­er­last­ing. 7 I saw the tents of Cushan in af­flic­tion: and the cur­tains of the land of Mid­i­an did trem­ble. 8 Was the LORD dis­pleased against the rivers? was thine anger against the rivers? was thy wrath against the sea, that thou didst ride upon thine hors­es and thy char­i­ots of sal­va­tion? 9 Thy bow was made quite naked, according to the oaths of the tribes, even thy word. Se­lah. Thou didst cleave the earth with rivers. 10 The moun­tains saw thee, and they trem­bled: the over­flow­ing of the wa­ter passed by: the deep ut­tered his voice, and lift­ed up his hands on high. 11 The sun and moon stood still in their habi­ta­tion: at the light of thine ar­rows they went, and at the shin­ing of thy glit­ter­ing spear. 12 Thou didst march through the land in in­dig­na­tion, thou didst thresh the hea­then in anger. 13 Thou wen­test forth for the sal­va­tion of thy peo­ple, even for sal­va­tion with thine anoint­ed; thou wound­edst the head out of the house of the wicked, by dis­cov­er­ing the foun­da­tion unto the neck. Se­lah. 14 Thou didst strike through with his staves the head of his vil­lages: they came out as a whirl­wind to scat­ter me: their re­joic­ing was as to de­vour the poor se­cret­ly. 15 Thou didst walk through the sea with thine hors­es, through the heap of great wa­ters. 16 When I heard, my bel­ly trem­bled; my lips quiv­ered at the voice: rot­ten­ness en­tered into my bones, and I trem­bled in my­self, that I might rest in the day of trou­ble: when he cometh up unto the peo­ple, he will in­vade them with his troops. 17 Al­though the fig tree shall not blos­som, nei­ther shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: 18 Yet I will re­joice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my sal­va­tion. 19 The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places. To the chief singer on my stringed in­stru­ments.