Habakkuk 3

1A prayer of Habakkuk, the prophet, set to victorious music. 2I stand in awe of your deeds, Yahweh. In the middle of the years make it known. In wrath, you remember mercy. Yahweh, I have heard of your fame. Renew your work in the middle of the years. 3the Holy One from Mount Paran. and his praise filled the earth. God came from Teman, Selah. His glory covered the heavens, 4Rays shine from his hand, where his power is hidden. His splendor is like the sunrise. 5and pestilence followed his feet. Plague went before him, 6He looked, and made the nations tremble. The ancient mountains were crumbled. The age-old hills collapsed. His ways are eternal. He stood, and shook the earth. 7The dwellings of the land of Midian trembled. I saw the tents of Cushan in affliction. 8Was your anger against the rivers, or your wrath against the sea, that you rode on your horses, on your chariots of salvation? Was Yahweh displeased with the rivers? 9You called for your sworn arrows. You uncovered your bow. Selah. You split the earth with rivers. 10The storm of waters passed by. The deep roared and lifted up its hands on high. The mountains saw you, and were afraid. 11at the light of your arrows as they went, at the shining of your glittering spear. The sun and moon stood still in the sky, 12You threshed the nations in anger. You marched through the land in wrath. 13for the salvation of your anointed. You stripped them head to foot. You went out for the salvation of your people, You crushed the head of the land of wickedness. Selah. 14They came as a whirlwind to scatter me, gloating as if to devour the wretched in secret. You pierced the heads of his warriors with their own spears. 15churning mighty waters. You trampled the sea with your horses, 16My lips quivered at the voice. because I must wait quietly for the day of trouble, for the coming up of the people who invade us. I heard, and my body trembled. Rottenness enters into my bones, and I tremble in my place, 17nor fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive fails, the fields yield no food; the flocks are cut off from the fold, and there is no herd in the stalls: For though the fig tree doesn’t flourish, 18I will be joyful in the God of my salvation! yet I will rejoice in Yahweh. 19He makes my feet like deer’s feet, and enables me to go in high places. Yahweh, the Lord, * is my strength. For the music director, on my stringed instruments.