Psalm 47
47
XLVII Psalm.
1Buailiḋe ḃar mbasa uile ṡlóiġ,
Ta ’gaitreaḃ ann sgaċ ait;
Le guṫ ’s le gárdeaċas do Ḋia,
Suas toguiḋe iolaċ árd.
2Óir Dia ro ard is uaṁunn é,
Riġ mor ós cionn gaċ tír;
3An pobul cuiriḋ se fo’r smaċt,
Fo’r ccois na slóiġ go léir.
4Oiġreaċt Iacoib ṫoġ se ḋuinn,
Oiġreaċt dá ttug se gráḋ;
5Ċuaiḋ Dia le caiṫréim ard suas,
Le stoc a’s fuaimneaċ blá.
6Seinniḋe do Ḋia, sinn molaḋ, sinn,
Dar riġ sinn molaḋ binn;
7Oir is riġ mór os cionn gaċ tír,
Seinn do go heólgaċ grinn.
8Ṫa Dia na ṡuiḋe na ċaṫaoir naoiṁ,
’Se is riġ air ċinniḃ ann;
9Uaċdráinn na sluaġ do ċruinniġ iad,
Pobal Dé Abrahaim.
Air son gur le Iehoḃah ’ṁáin,
Sgiaṫ ḋidin do gaċ tír;
’Se féin is airde is uirumuiġ,
’S ḋo dliġṫear molaḋ síor.
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Psalm 47: PSA1836G
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A Londain: ar na chur na gclo re Richard Watts, 1836.
