Habakkuk 3

A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, according to Shigionoth. LORD, I heard the report of you, and I was afraid.
LORD, revive your work in the midst of the years;
in the midst of the years make it known.
In wrath remember compassion. God comes from Teman, the Holy One from Mount Paran.
Selah.
His splendor covers the heavens, and his praise fills the earth. His brightness is like the light;
rays come from his hand, and there his power is hidden. Pestilence goes before him, and plague follows at his feet. He stood and measured the earth;
he looked and made nations tremble.
The everlasting mountains were shattered, the ancient hills bowed down.
His ways are everlasting. I saw the tents of Cushan under affliction;
the tent curtains of the land of Midian tremble. Was the LORD angry with the rivers?
Was your anger against the rivers, your wrath against the sea, when you rode your horses, your chariots of salvation? Your bow is laid completely bare;
oaths are spoken over the shafts.
Selah.
You split the earth with rivers. The mountains saw you and writhed.
A torrent of water swept past;
the deep raised its voice and lifted its hands on high. The sun and moon stood still in their dwelling at the light of your arrows as they sped, at the brightness of your flashing spear. You marched through the earth in indignation;
in anger you threshed the nations. You went out for the salvation of your people, for the salvation of your anointed.
You shattered the head of the house of the wicked, laying bare the foundation up to the neck. Selah. You pierced the head of his warriors with his own shafts.
They stormed out to scatter me, exulting as if to devour the poor in secret. You trod the sea with your horses, the surging of mighty waters. I heard, and my belly trembled;
my lips quivered at the sound.
Rot entered my bones, and I trembled where I stood.
Yet I will wait quietly for the day of distress to come upon the people who raid us. Though the fig tree does not blossom and there is no fruit on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though the flock is cut off from the fold and there are no cattle in the stalls, yet I will exult in the LORD;
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation. The LORD, the Lord, is my strength.
He makes my feet like those of a doe and makes me tread on my heights.
For the director, with my stringed instruments.

Rights and attribution