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HabakkukChapter 3

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A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, on shigionoth.
LORD, I have heard the report of you, and I stand in awe. LORD, revive your work in the midst of the years; in the midst of the years make it known. In your wrath remember mercy.
God comes from Teman, the Holy One from Mount Paran. Selah. His splendor covers the heavens, and the earth is full of his praise.
His brightness is like the dawn; rays flash from his hand, and there his power lies hidden.
Before him goes pestilence, and plague follows at his heels.
He stood and measured the earth; he looked and made the nations tremble. The ancient mountains crumbled, the everlasting hills sank low—his ways are eternal.
I saw the tents of Cushan in distress, the curtains of the land of Midian trembling.
Was the LORD angry with the rivers? Was your wrath against the streams, your fury against the sea, when you rode on your horses, on your chariots of salvation?
You uncovered your bow; you called for many arrows. Selah. You split the earth open with rivers. [Footnote: The Hebrew of this line is obscure; it may also be read "the oaths sworn to the tribes were a sure word."]
The mountains saw you and writhed; torrents of water swept by. The deep raised its voice and lifted its hands on high.
Sun and moon stood still in their places at the flash of your flying arrows, at the gleam of your lightning spear.
In fury you marched across the earth; in anger you trampled the nations.
You went out to deliver your people, to save your anointed one. You crushed the head of the house of the wicked, laying it bare from foundation to neck. Selah.
With his own spears you pierced the head of his warriors, who stormed out to scatter us, gloating as if to devour the poor in secret.
You trampled the sea with your horses, churning the mighty waters.
I heard, and my body trembled; my lips quivered at the sound. Decay crept into my bones, and my legs shook beneath me. Yet I will wait quietly for the day of distress, for the day when it comes upon the people who attack us.
Though the fig tree does not blossom and the vines bear no fruit, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though the flock is cut off from the fold and there is no herd in the stalls—
yet I will exult in the LORD; I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
The LORD God is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer and sets me upon the heights. For the choirmaster, with my stringed instruments.
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