R (1b) Blessed be the Lord, my Rock!
Blessed be the Lord, my rock,
who trains my hands for battle, my fingers for war. R
My mercy and my fortress,
my stronghold, my deliverer,
My shield, in whom I trust,
who subdues my people under me. R
O God, I will sing a new song to you;
with a ten-stringed lyre I will chant your praise,
You who give victory to kings,
and deliver David, your servant, from the evil sword. R
Alleluia, alleluia. Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord./ Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests. Alleluia, alleluia.
- It is impossible that a prophet should die outside of Jerusalem. l
