Habakkuk.
Chapter 3.
This is a prayer sung by the prophet Habakkuk. On Shigonoth. 
I have heard what is said about you, Lord. I stand in awe of your work. Lord, revive it in our times; make it known in our times. In your anger, please remember your mercy. 
God came from Teman; the Holy One from Mount Paran. Selah. His glory covered the heavens; the earth was full of his praise. 
His brightness is like lightning; rays flash from his hand from where his power is hidden. 
Plague goes before him, disease follows at his feet. 
Where he stands, the earth shakes. When he looks the nations tremble. The ancient mountains shatter, the age-old hills collapse, but his ways are eternal. 
I saw the tents of Cushan suffering, the tent curtains of the land of Midian tremble. 
Did you burn with rage against the rivers, Lord? Were you angry with the rivers? Were you furious with the sea when you rode your horses and chariots of salvation? 
You took out your bow; you filled your quiver with arrows. Selah. You split the earth open with rivers. 
Mountains saw you and shook. Water poured down and swept by. The deep called out, lifting high its waves. 
The sun and moon stood still in the sky as your sparkling arrows flew and your spears flashed bright. 
Indignant, you marched across the earth, trampling the nations in your anger. 
You came out to save your people, to save your chosen people. You crushed the head of the house of the wicked, stripping him from thick to neck. 
With his own arrows you pierced the heads of his warriors, those who came like a whirlwind to scatter me, gloating like those who secretly abuse the poor. 
You trod upon the sea with your horses, churning up the mighty waters. 
I shook inside when I heard this; my lips quivered at the sound; my bones turned to jelly; I trembled where I stood. I wait quietly for the day of trouble that will come upon those who attacked us. 
Even though there are no blossoms on the fig trees and there are no grapes on the vines; even though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no harvest; even though there are no animals in the pen and no cattle in the stalls; 
still I will be happy in the Lord, joyful in the God of my salvation. 
The Lord God is my strength. He makes me able to walk in the highest mountains, as sure-footed as a deer. (To the music director: with my stringed instruments.)
