| 1 κύριε ὁ θεός μου δοξάσω σε ὑμνήσω τὸ ὄνομά σου ὅτι ἐποίησας θαυμαστὰ πράγματα βουλὴν ἀρχαίαν ἀληθινήν γένοιτο κύριε 2 ὅτι ἔθηκας πόλεις εἰς χῶμα πόλεις ὀχυρὰς τοῦ πεσεῖν αὐτῶν τὰ θεμέλια τῶν ἀσεβῶν πόλις εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα οὐ μὴ οἰκοδομηθῇ 3 διὰ τοῦτο εὐλογήσει σε ὁ λαὸς ὁ πτωχός καὶ πόλεις ἀνθρώπων ἀδικουμένων εὐλογήσουσίν σε 4 ἐγένου γὰρ πάσῃ πόλει ταπεινῇ βοηθὸς καὶ τοῖς ἀθυμήσασιν διὰ ἔνδειαν σκέπη ἀπὸ ἀνθρώπων πονηρῶν ῥύσῃ αὐτούς σκέπη διψώντων καὶ πνεῦμα ἀνθρώπων ἀδικουμένων 5 εὐλογήσουσίν σε ὡς ἄνθρωποι ὀλιγόψυχοι διψῶντες ἐν Σιων ἀπὸ ἀνθρώπων ἀσεβῶν οἷς ἡμᾶς παρέδωκας |
1 Lord, thou art my God; I extol thee and praise thy name for thy wonderful do-ings; for thy designs, so long prepared, so faithfully executed; see, it is done! 2 A heap of stones where, but for thy decree, a town stood; a crumbling ruin, all that is left of a walled city; a fortress of the invader, dismantled now and never to be built again. 3 What wonder great nations should do thee homage, embattled cities hold thee in dread? 4 Stronghold thou art of the poor, stronghold of the helpless in their affliction, refuge from the storm, shade in the noonday sun; against that wall the rage of tyrants blusters in vain. 5 Uproar of the invader stilled, as it were the breathless summer of a parched land; oppression withered up from the roots, like haze of burning heat![1] |
1
Domine, Deus meus es tu;
exaltabo te, et confitebor nomini tuo:
quoniam fecisti mirabilia,
cogitationes antiquas fideles. Amen. 2
Quia posuisti civitatem in tumulum,
urbem fortem in ruinam, domum alienorum:
ut non sit civitas,
et in sempiternum non ædificetur. 3
Super hoc laudabit te populus fortis;
civitas gentium robustarum timebit te: 4
quia factus es fortitudo pauperi,
fortitudo egeno in tribulatione sua,
spes a turbine,
umbraculum ab æstu;
spiritus enim robustorum
quasi turbo impellens parietem. 5
Sicut æstus in siti,
tumultum alienorum humiliabis;
et quasi calore sub nube torrente,
propaginem fortium marcescere facies. |