1. Yahweh, you are my God, I shall praise you to the heights, I shall praise your name; for you have accomplished marvels, plans long-conceived, faithfully, firmly.

2. For you have made the town a heap of stones, the fortified city a ruin. The foreigners' citadel is a city no longer, it will never be rebuilt.

3. Hence mighty peoples will honour you, the city of pitiless nations hold you in awe;

4. For you have been a refuge for the weak, a refuge for the needy in distress, a shelter from the storm, shade from the heat; for the breath of the pitiless is like a winter storm.

5. Like heat in a dry land you calm the foreigners' tumult; as heat under the shadow of a cloud, so the song of the pitiless dies away.






11. He may stretch his hands wide on the mountain like a swimmer stretching out his hands to swim. But he will humble his pride despite what his hands may attempt.

12. And the impregnable fortress of your walls, he has overthrown, laid low, flung to the ground, in the dust.

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