You pierced with his own arrows The head of his leaders. They stormed in to scatter us; Their arrogance was
like those Who devour the oppressed in secret.
You trampled on the sea with Your horses, On the foam of many waters.
I heard, and my inner parts trembled; At the sound, my lips quivered. Decay enters my bones, And in my place I tremble; Because I must wait quietly for the day of distress, For the people to arise who
will attack us.
Even if the fig tree does not blossom, And there is no fruit on the vines, If
the yield of the olive fails, And the fields produce no food, Even if
the flock disappears from the fold, And there are no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will triumph in the LORD, I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
The Lord GOD is my strength, And He has made my feet like deer’s feet,
And has me walk on my high places. For the choir director, on my stringed instruments.