Endagaano Enkadde nʼEndagaano Empya

Zabbuli 30

Zabbuli n’Oluyimba. Okuwaayo Yeekaalu. Zabbuli ya Dawudi.

1Nnaakugulumizanga, Ayi Mukama,
    kubanga wannyimusa;
    n’otoganya balabe bange kunneeyagalirako.
Ayi Mukama, nakukaabirira onnyambe,
    n’omponya.
Ayi Mukama, omwoyo gwange waguggya emagombe,
    n’omponya ekinnya.

Muyimbire Mukama nga mumutendereza, mmwe abatukuvu be;
    mutendereze erinnya lye ettukuvu.
Kubanga obusungu bwe bwa kiseera buseera,
    naye obulungi bwe bwa mirembe gyonna.
Amaziga gayinza okubaawo ekiro kyokka
    essanyu ne lijja nga bukedde.

Bwe namala okunywera
    ne njogera nti, “Sigenda kusiguukululwa.”
Ayi Mukama, bwe wanjagala,
    wanyweza olusozi lwange;
naye bwe wankweka amaaso go
    ne neeraliikirira.
Ggwe gwe nakoowoola, Ayi Mukama;
    ne nkukaabirira Mukama, onsaasire.
“Kingasa ki bwe nzika mu kinnya
    ne nzikirira?
Enfuufu eneekutenderezanga
    n’etegeeza abantu obwesigwa bwo?
10 Mpuliriza, Ayi Mukama, onsaasire;
    Ayi Mukama, onnyambe.”

11 Ofudde okwaziirana kwange amazina;
    onnyambuddemu ebibukutu, n’onnyambaza essanyu.
12 Omutima gwange gulemenga kusirika busirisi, wabula gukuyimbirenga ennyimba ez’okukutenderezanga.
    Ayi Mukama, Katonda wange, nnaakwebazanga emirembe gyonna.

The Message

Psalm 30

A David Psalm

1I give you all the credit, God
    you got me out of that mess,
    you didn’t let my foes gloat.

2-3 God, my God, I yelled for help
    and you put me together.
God, you pulled me out of the grave,
    gave me another chance at life
    when I was down-and-out.

4-5 All you saints! Sing your hearts out to God!
    Thank him to his face!
He gets angry once in a while, but across
    a lifetime there is only love.
The nights of crying your eyes out
    give way to days of laughter.

6-7 When things were going great
    I crowed, “I’ve got it made.
I’m God’s favorite.
    He made me king of the mountain.”
Then you looked the other way
    and I fell to pieces.

8-10 I called out to you, God;
    I laid my case before you:
“Can you sell me for a profit when I’m dead?
    auction me off at a cemetery yard sale?
When I’m ‘dust to dust’ my songs
    and stories of you won’t sell.
So listen! and be kind!
    Help me out of this!”

11-12 You did it: you changed wild lament
    into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band
    and decked me with wildflowers.
I’m about to burst with song;
    I can’t keep quiet about you.
God, my God,
    I can’t thank you enough.