Gàidhlig
Salm 51
Dèan tròcair orm, a Dhia nan gràs, gu h-iochdmhor saor-sa mis'; Rèir lìonmhorachd do thròcair chaoimh, glan as m'uil' easaontas. Gu h-iomlan ionnail mi om lochd, glan mi om chiont' ad ghràdh; Oir tha mi 'g aidmheil m'easaontais, 's lèir dhomh mo lochd a-ghnàth. Ad aghaidh, 'd aghaidh fhèin a-mhàin, do pheacaich mi gu trom, Is ann ad fhianais fhèin, a Dhè, an t-olc seo rinneadh leam; Do-chum air labhairt dhut a-mach, gum biodh tu cothromach; 'S gum biodh tu glan tràth bheir thu breith, is ceart neo-eucorach. Am peacadh, feuch, do dhealbhadh mi, is ann an cionta fòs Do ghabh mo mhàthair mi na broinn, tràth ghineadh mi o thòs. An taobh a-staigh den chridhe, feuch, an fhìrinn 's ionmhainn leat; San ionad fhalaicht' bheir thu orm gun tuig mi gliocas ceart. Le hiosop dèan-sa mise glan, is bitheam glan gu beachd; Dèan m'ionnlad fòs, mar sin bidh mi nas gile dhut na sneachd. Guth subhachais thoir orm gun cluinn, is fonn an aoibhneis ait; Mar sin nì gàirdeachas gu mòr na cnàmhan bhriseadh leat. Om pheacan is o m'easaontais falaich do ghnùis, a Dhè; Mo sheachrain is m'uil' eucoir fòs glan thusa uam gu rèidh. Dhia, cruthaich annam cridhe glan; ath-nuadhaich spiorad ceart. Na tilg od shealladh mi; 's na buin do spiorad naomha leat. Is aisig dhomh ùr-ghàirdeachas do shlàinte chàirdeil fhèin; Is dèan-sa fòs mo chumail suas, led spiorad saor gu treun. 'N sin teagaisgeam do shlighe, Dhè, don dream a bhris do reachd; Is tillear riut le aithreachas na peacaich thruagh gu beachd. O chionta fala saor-sa mi, O Dhia, a Dhè mo shlàint'; Seinnidh gu h-àrd air d'fhìreantachd mo theanga anns gach àit. Mo bhilean, tha air druideadh suas, fosgail, a Dhè nan gràs; An sin do mholadh le mo bheul cuiridh mi 'n cèill gu h-àrd. Oir ìobairtean chan iarrar leat, no bheirinn dhut gach rè; An ofrail-loisgte fòs air bith chan eil do thlachd, a Dhè. An spiorad briste, tùirseach, trom, siud ìobairt Dhè nan dùl; Ri cridhe briste brùit', a Dhè, gu bràth cha chuir thu cùl. Ad dheagh-ghean dèan-sa math, a Dhia, air Sion do chnoc fhèin; Ballan Ierusaleim gu luath tog suas led làimh gu treun. 'N sin taitnidh ìobairt cheartais riut, ofrail, 's làn ofrail loisgt'; 'N sin bheirear colpaich dhutsa suas air d'altair naomh gun fhois.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 51
For the choirmaster. Of David. When the prophet Nathan had come to him because he had gone to Bathsheba.
Have mercy on me, O God, in your faithful love;
in your great compassion
blot out my offences.
Wash away all my misdeeds,
and cleanse me from my sin.
For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always in mind.
I have sinned against you, only you,
and done what you see to be wrong;
you are justified in your sentence
and blameless in your judgement.
I have surely sinned from birth,
a sinner from my conception,
but you want truth in the inner being,
so put your wisdom in my secret heart.
Cleanse me with hyssop until I am clean;
wash me, that I may be whiter than snow.
Let me hear joy and gladness,
let the bones you have broken rejoice.
Turn your face from my sins,
and blot out all my misdeeds.
Create a pure heart in me, O God;
renew a resolute spirit in me.
Do not thrust me from your presence;
do not remove your spirit of holiness.
Give me back the joy of salvation;
sustain me with a willing spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors your ways,
and sinners will come back to you.
Save me from guilt of bloodshed,
O God, God of my salvation,
and my tongue will sing of your saving power.
Open my lips, O Yahweh,
and my mouth will proclaim your praise.
Sacrifice gives you no pleasure,
you do not desire burnt offerings.
My offering, O God, is a broken spirit,
a broken and contrite heart
you will never scorn.
In your good pleasure make Zion prosper,
and rebuild the walls of Jerusalem,
so that you can delight in appropriate offerings,
burnt offerings and whole oblations,
then bulls will be sacrificed on your altar.
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))