To the divine judge
For the choirmaster, tune: ‘Do not destroy,’ psalm of Asaph, song.
We give thanks to You, God,
we give thanks as we invoke Your name,
as we recount Your marvels.
‘At the moment I decide
I will dispense strict justice;
the earth shall quake and all its inhabitants,
it is I who poised its columns.
‘I said to the boastful: Enough of boasting!
and to the wicked: How dare you raise your horn,
how dare you raise your horn like that,
how dare you speak so boldly!’
Not from the east, nor from the west,
not from the desert, nor from the mountains,
but from God the judgment comes,
lowering one, raising another.
Yahweh is holding a cup
of frothing wine, heavily drugged;
He pours it out, they drain it to the dregs,
all drink of it, the wicked of the earth.
But I will never stop proclaiming the God of Jacob
or playing in His honor;
I will cut off the horns of all the wicked
and raise the horns of the virtuous.