Nkwa Asem

Nnwom 30

Aseda mpaebɔ

1Mekamfo wo, Awurade, efisɛ, woagye me nkwa ayi me afi atamfo ani a ɛbere me no mu. Misu frɛɛ wo sɛ boa me, O Awurade, me Nyankopɔn, na wosaa me yare yii me fii damoa no mu. Na anka meresian akɔ ase pɛɛ, nanso wosan maa me nkwa.

Monto ayeyi nnwom mma Awurade; mo a mudi no nokware nyinaa! Monkae nea Kronkronni no ayɛ, na monna no ase! N’abufuw nkyɛ, na ne papayɛ wɔ hɔ nkwa nna nyinaa. Nusu begu anadwo, nanso ahosɛpɛw bɛba anɔpa.

Minyaa ogye nti mekae se, “Wɔrenni me so da.” Woyɛɛ me yiye, Awurade; wobɔɔ me ho ban sɛ abankɛse, nanso wode wo ho siee me ma misuroe. Mefrɛɛ wo, Awurade, srɛɛ wo mmoa. Mfaso bɛn na wubenya wɔ me wu ho? Na sɛ mekɔ damoa mu a, wunya dɛn? Awufo betumi akamfo wo? Wobetumi apae mu aka wo papayɛ? 10 Tie me, Awurade, na hu me mmɔbɔ! Boa me, Awurade!” 11 Woama m’awerɛhow adan anigye asaw; woafa m’awerɛhow ma anigye atwa me ho ahyia. 12 Enti merenyɛ komm. Mɛto dwom akamfo wo. Awurade, woyɛ me Nyankopɔn. Mɛda wo ase daa daa.

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.