14 You pierce the head of his warrior with his own spear.His warriors are driven off,those who take delight in oppressing us,those who take pleasure in secretly devouring the poor.
15 You make your horses tread on the sea;turbulent waters foam.
16 I hear and my insides tremble.My lips quiver at the sound.Rottenness enters my bones.I tremble while I stand,while I wait for the day of distress to come against the people who attack us.
17 Though the fig tree doesn’t bloom,and there’s no produce on the vine;though the olive crop withers,and the fields don’t provide food;though the sheep are cut off from the pen,and there are no cattle in the stalls;
18 I will rejoice in the Lord.I will rejoice in the God of my deliverance.