Gàidhlig
Salm 18
Mo chion ort fhèin, a Dhia, mo threis. Mo charraig Dia gu ceart, Mo dhaingneach, is mo Shlànaighear: Mo Thighearn, is mo neart: An tì san cuir mi dòchas fòs, mo thargaid is mo sgiath, Adharc mo shlàinte e gu beachd, mo bhaideal àrd 's e Dia. Nis goiream air an Tighearna, don dlighear moladh sìor: Mar sin om eascairdean gu lèir coimheadar mi gu fìor. Chuir tuiltean dhroch dhaoin' eagal orm, chaidh umam guin an èig. Pian ifrinn agus lìontan bàis, romham 's gach àite feuch. Am èiginn ghoir mi air mo Thriath, dh'èigh mi gu h-àrd lem ghlaodh: Is as a theampall naomha fhèin dh'èisd e mo ghuth gu caomh. Na fhianais is na èisdeachd fhèin, mo ghlaodh do ràinig suas; An talamh air gach ceum an sin do chriothnaich, chrathadh, ghluais: Bunaitean nan cnoc 's nam beann, do ghluaiseadh sin gu garg, Do chriothnaicheadh is chrathadh iad, a chionn gu robh air fearg. Chaidh deatach as a shròin a-mach, is teine loisgeach mòr Chaidh as a bheul, is lasadh leis de eibhlean na bu leòr. Is lùb e fòs na nèamhan foidh', 's a-nuas do thuirling e: Fìor dhorchadas is dubh-aigean bha sin fo chasan Dhè. Air cherub mharcaich e gu h-àrd, air iteig fòs do chaidh; Is bha e luath ag itealaich, air bharran sgiath na gaoith'. Dubh-dhorchadas mar dhiamhaireachd do chuir e uime fhèin: Bu phàillean dha na h-uisgean dorch', is neultan tiugh' nan speur. Do chaidh a neultan tiugh' le chèil', is clachan-meallain fòs, Is eibhlean tein' air thoiseach air, on dealradh bha na ghnùis. Rinn Dia sna speuran tàirneanach, is leig an Tì as àird A ghuth a-mach, le cloich-shneachd chruaidh, is eibhlean teth 's gach àit. A shaighdean leig e uaith' a-mach, is sgaoil e iad air fad, Tein-adhair orra thilg gu mòr, is chlaoidheadh iad gu grad. Aigean an uisge chunnacas ris, bha stèidh an domhain nochdt', Le sèideadh anail d'fheirge, Dhè, led achmhasan 's do smachd. As 'ionad àrd do chuir e nuas, is bhuin e mise mach, Is rinn mo tharraing mar an ceudn' à uisgean iomarcach. Om eascar thulchuiseach is threun thug e dhomh fuasgladh deas, 'S o luchd mo mhìoruin agus m'fhuath, bu treis' gu mòr na mis'; An là mo thrioblaid is mo theinn, thug ionnsaigh orm gun fhios: Ach bha mo Dhia na thaice dhomh, cha sleamhnaich uam mo chos. Gu ionad farsaing agus rèidh thug esan mi a-mach: Mo theasairginn do rinneadh leis, oir ghabh e annam tlachd. Rèir m'ionracais, is glaine làmh, do chuitich Dia math rium: Air seachran uaith' cha deachaidh mi: a shlighe choimhdeadh leam. Oir 'uile bhreith am fhianais tha: a statuin uam nìor chuir. Bu treibhdhireach na làthair mi: om aingidheachd fhein do sguir. Rèir m'ionracais is glaine làmh, an sealladh beachd a shùl, Do rinneadh mise chuiteachadh gu caomh le Dia nan dùl. Don duine ghràsail, gràsmhor thu, dìreach don treibhdhireach. Glan thu don duine ghlan, is fiat' don duine fhiat' fa seach. Na daoine tha fo thrioblaid mhòir, làn-shaoraidh tu 's gach àit; Ach bheir thu nuas a' mhuinntir sin ga bheil an sealladh àrd. Oir lasaidh tu mo choinneal dhomh, is nì mo Dhia 's mo Rìgh Mo dhorchadas a shoillseachadh, chum soilleir glan gum bi. Mòr bhuidheann sluaigh, led threis, a Dhè, do bhriseadh leam air fad: Le neart mo Dhia thar balla leum, is chaidh mi fhèin gun stad. Ach Dia, a ta a shlighe ceart, is dhearbhadh facal Dhè; Don uile dhream a dh'earbas as, gan dìon is targaid e. Oir cò as Dia ach thusa, Dhè? cò 's carraig ach ar Triath? An neach a nì mo shlighe ceart, 's a bheir dhomh neart, 's e Dia. Mar chasan fèidh tha luath chum ruith, mo chasan do rinn e, Air m'àitean àrd' gam shocrachadh, a-chum nach gluaiste mi. Gu còmhrag theagaisg e mo làmh, ionnas gun tug mi buaidh, A' briseadh le mo ghàirdeanan bogha den stàilinn chruaidh. Thug thusa sgiath do shlàinte dhomh, do dheaslàmh chùm mi suas; Thug orm do choibhneas is do ghràdh gu inbhe mhòir gun d'fhàs. Mo cheuman rinn thu farsaing fodh'm; sin dhomh mar fhuaireadh thus'; Ionnas gur socrach sheasas mi, cha sleamhnaich uam mo chos. Lean mi mo naimhdean anns an ruaig, is orra rug gu cas: Is gus 'n do chlaoidheadh iad gu lèir, nìor thill mi fhèin air m'ais. Gun chomas èirigh lot mi iad, is thuit iad sìos fom chois. Le neart chum cath' 's tu chrioslaich mi; na dh'èirich rium leag thus'. Air mhuineal thug thu dhomh mo nàmh; luchd m'fhuath' gan claoidh gu lèir. Ghlaodh iad, 's dam furtachd cha robh neach: air Dia, 's cha d'fhreagair e. Amhlaidh mar dhus a' dol le gaoith, gu mìn do phronn mi iad; Is thilg mi iad a-mach a-rìs mar chlàbar air an t-sràid. O strì nan daoine shaor thu mi; rinn ceann nan cinneach dhìom; Na daoine riamh nach b'aithne dhomh, ri seirbhis dhomh do chìm. Air cluinntinn dhaibhsan iomradh orm, gèillidh iad dhomh gun stad; Is nì dhomh coigrich mar an ceudn' an ìsleachadh air fad. Làn-sheargaidh is dubh-chrìonaidh as na coigrich ud gu lèir, A' teachd le eagal 's uamhann mhòr a-mach on garaidh fhèin. Dia beò a ta, beannaicht' gu robh mo charraig fhèin gu bràth: Is Dia mo shlàinte; bitheadh e air àrdachadh a-ghnàth. Mo dhìoghaltas, 's mo leasachadh, 's e Dia a bheir a-mach; 'S e fòs a chuireas dhomh fo smachd na slòigh gu h-iomadach. 'S e dh'fhuasglas mi om eascairdean: 's tu thog mi thar gach neach A dh'èirich rium; is thug mi saor o fhear na h-eucorach. Am measg nan cinneach, uime sin, bheir mise dhut, a Dhè, Mòr bhuidheachas; dod ainm-sa fòs àrd-mholadh seinnidh mi. Bheir esan fuasgladh mòr da rìgh: le pailteas nì e gràs Air Daibhidh, neach a dh'ungadh leis, is air a shliochd gu bràth.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 18
For the choirmaster. Of David, the servant of Yahweh, who addressed the words of this song to Yahweh when Yahweh had delivered him from all his enemies and from the clutches of Saul. He said:
I love you, O Yahweh, my strength.
My rock is Yahweh, my fortress, my saviour,
my God, the rock where I find safety.
He is my shield, my power of salvation,
my stronghold.
When I call upon Yahweh, who merits all praise,
I am saved from my foes.
The bonds of death entangled me,
destruction swallowed me,
the ropes of the grave surrounded me,
the snares of death lay in my path.
In my anguish I called on Yahweh,
I cried to my God for help.
From his Temple he heard my voice,
and my cry reached his ears.
The earth quaked and trembled,
the roots of the mountains shook,
they quaked because he was angry.
Smoke went up from his nostrils,
devouring fire came from his mouth
and blazing coals poured out.
He split the heavens and came down
with dark clouds beneath his feet.
He flew on mounted cherubim,
and soared on the wings of the wind.
He made darkness into a covering
and storm clouds into a canopy.
His radiance broke through the clouds
with hailstones and bolts of fire
Yahweh thundered in heaven;
the Most High uttered his voice:
hailstones and bolts of fire.
He fired his arrows and scattered them;
lightning flashes routed them.
The valleys of the sea were revealed.
The foundations of the world were laid bare
by your rebuke, O Yahweh,
by the blast of the breath of your nostrils.
He reached from the heights to grasp me,
and drew me out of deep waters.
He saved me from foes, strong foes,
from my foes
when they grew too strong for me.
My day of disaster came when they attacked,
but Yahweh came to my aid.
He brought me into an open place,
he rescued me because he loves me.
Yahweh gave me my just recognition,
he rewarded me for my innocent hands;
for I have kept the ways of Yahweh,
and have not wickedly left my God.
All his judgements are there before me,
I have not turned from his decrees,
I came into his presence blameless
and kept myself from sin.
Therefore Yahweh rewarded me
according to my righteousness,
for the cleanness of my hands.
With the faithful you show you are faithful,
with the blameless you are blameless,
with the pure you show you are pure,
but with the crafty you show you are shrewd.
You save the humble,
but bring down proud eyes.
You light my lamp;
Yahweh my God
brings light to my darkness.
Indeed, by you I can crush an army,
and by my God I leap over a wall.
The way of God is without blame,
the word of Yahweh is without flaw.
He alone is the shield
of all who take refuge in him.
For who is God, but Yahweh?
And who is a rock, but our God?
It is God who girds me with strength
and makes my way secure.
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
so that I stand secure on the heights.
He trains my hands for the battle,
my arms to bend a bow of bronze.
You give me your victory shield;
your right hand holds me up;
you stoop to make me great.
You widen the path beneath me,
so that my feet do not slip.
I chased my foes and caught them,
and did not turn back until they were dead.
I crushed them never to rise again;
they fell beneath my feet.
You armed me with strength for the fight,
you made my attackers bend beneath me;
you made my enemies run from me
and I destroyed my foes.
They cried for help, but none could save them;
they cried to Yahweh but he did not answer.
I beat them as fine as dust in the wind;
I threw them out like mud in the streets.
You have set me free from attacks by the people,
you have placed me at the head of nations;
As soon as they hear of me they obey,
and foreigners come before me cringing.
Foreigners all grow faint of heart,
and come with trembling from their
strongholds.
Yahweh lives! Blessed be my Rock!
May God my Saviour be exalted!
He is the God who gives me vengence,
and makes the nations subject to me
He delivers me from all my foes.
You raised me high above my enemies,
you delivered me from violent people.
For this, O Yahweh,
I will praise you among the nations;
I will sing praises to your name.
He grants his king great victories,
shows faithful love to his anointed,
David and his heirs forever.
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))