Psalm 121 in Aramaic

Arim 'aynay l'turo, I lift my eyes to the mountain, in the language of Jesus and the prayer of a mountain people

Psalm 121 in Aramaic begins Arim 'aynay l'turo: "I lift my eyes to the mountain." It is the traveler's psalm, the one prayed at departures and airports and hospital doors, and the Syriac churches have chanted it at nightfall, side by side with Psalm 91, for the better part of two thousand years.

Below is the complete psalm from the Peshitta, the ancient Syriac Bible: all eight verses in Syriac script, a transliteration you can read aloud, the English meaning of the Syriac, and a short reflection on each pair of verses.

A Pilgrim Song in the Language of Jesus

Psalm 121 is the second of the fifteen Songs of Ascents, the little psalms pilgrims sang on the climb up to Jerusalem for the great feasts. Jesus made that climb every year of his life, and sang these songs on the road in Hebrew, as every pilgrim did.

The Aramaic version comes from the Psalter of the Peshitta, the Syriac Bible, translated from the Hebrew in the first centuries of the Church. Syriac is a literary dialect of Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke on that same road, and it is the language in which the Maronite Church has prayed the psalm ever since: a pilgrim song, kept by a Church whose whole history has been a climb.

Psalm 121 in Aramaic, Verse by Verse

The text follows the Peshitta Psalter. Each verse is given in Syriac script, in a Latin-letter transliteration (Western Syriac pronunciation, the one Maronites use), and in an English rendering of the Syriac.

Verses 1 and 2: Eyes lifted to the mountain

ܐܪܝܡ ܥܝ̈ܢܝ ܠܛܘܪܐ ܐܝܡܟܐ ܢܐܬܐ ܡܥܕܪܢܝ̱

Arim 'aynay l'turo: aymeko nite m'adran

I lift my eyes to the mountain: from where will my helper come?

ܥܘܕܪܢܝ̱ ܡܢ ܩܕܡ ܡܪܝܐ ܗܘ ܕܥܒܕ ܫܡܝܐ ܘܐܪܥܐ

'Udron men qdom Moryo, haw da'bad shmayo w'ar'o

My help is from before the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

The psalm opens with a gesture every mountain people knows in its body. Arim 'aynay l'turo: I lift my eyes to the mountain. In the Holy Land the pilgrim looked up at the hills around Jerusalem; in Lebanon, the whole nation lives with its eyes lifted, to Mount Lebanon itself, to Harissa on its summit, to villages like Bekaa Kafra perched at the country's roof. The question, "from where will my help come," is answered in the next breath, and the answer is not the mountain: men qdom Moryo, from before the Lord, the maker of the heaven above the peak and the earth beneath it.

The Syriac keeps a lovely idiom here: help comes "from before" the Lord, from his very presence, the way a favor comes from before a king's face.

Verses 3 and 4: The keeper who does not sleep

ܠܐ ܢܬܠ ܪܓܠܟ ܠܙܘܥܬܐ ܘܠܐ ܢܢܘܡ ܢܛܘܪܟ

Lo netel reglokh l'zaw'to, w'lo nnum noturokh

He will not let your foot slip, and your keeper will not slumber.

ܠܐ ܓܝܪ ܢܐܡ ܘܠܐ ܕܡܟ ܢܛܘܪܗ ܕܝܣܪܐܝܠ

Lo ger noem w'lo domekh notureh d'Isroyel

For the keeper of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.

Here the psalm hands over its great word. Noturo, keeper, guardian, watchman, appears in one form or another six times in eight verses, and everything the psalm promises is folded into it. Your foot will not be given to zaw'to, slipping, stumbling, the tremor of the path, because the one watching you does not doze at his post.

Verse 4 widens the lens from you to the whole people: the keeper of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps. Human watchmen fail at exactly the wrong hour; this one has never once closed his eyes. The monks of Lebanon, keeping vigil in the Qadisha Valley while the villages slept, understood themselves as apprentices of that sleepless watching.

Verses 5 and 6: Shade at your right hand

ܡܪܝܐ ܗ̱ܘ ܢܛܘܪܟ ܡܪܝܐ ܢܛܠ ܠܟ ܒܐܝܕܗ ܕܝܡܝܢܐ

Moryo (h)u noturokh; Moryo natel lokh b'ideh d'yamino

The Lord is your keeper; the Lord will shade you with his right hand.

ܒܐܝܡܡܐ ܫܡܫܐ ܠܐ ܢܟܝܟ ܐܦܠܐ ܣܗܪܐ ܒܠܠܝܐ

B'imomo shemsho lo nakekh, oflo sahro b'lilyo

By day the sun will not strike you, nor the moon by night.

Moryo (h)u noturokh: the Lord himself is your keeper. And then an image straight out of a Levantine summer: the Lord will shade you with his right hand. Anyone who has crossed a Lebanese hillside in August knows what shade is worth; the psalm makes God himself the shadow that travels with you.

So the sun will not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The pair covers the clock the way Psalm 91 in Aramaic covers it, terror of night and arrow of day: whatever the hour brings, the watch does not change.

Verses 7 and 8: Your going out and your coming in

ܡܪܝܐ ܢܢܛܪܟ ܡܢ ܟܠܗܝܢ ܒܝ̈ܫܬܐ

Moryo nnatrokh men kulhen bishotho

The Lord will keep you from all evils.

ܢܛܪ ܢܦܫܟ ܡܪܝܐ ܢܛܪ ܡܦܩܟ ܘܡܥܠܟ ܡܟܝܠ ܘܥܕܡܐ ܠܥܠܡ

Netar nafshokh Moryo; netar mafqokh w'ma'lokh mekil wa'damo l'olam

The Lord will keep your soul; he will keep your going out and your coming in, from now and forever.

The psalm ends with the widest promise it can make. The Lord will keep you from all evils; he will keep your soul, your going out and your coming in, from now and forever.

Mafqokh w'ma'lokh, your going out and your coming in: every departure and every return, the morning commute and the emigration, the leaving for the exam hall and the leaving for another country. For a people with more of its children outside Lebanon than in it, this is the verse that gets prayed at airports. Generations of Maronite mothers have sent sons and daughters to Sydney and São Paulo with exactly this line, and the psalm's claim is that the watch does not end at the border, or ever.

The Psalm of the Watchman

In the Syriac night office, Sootoro, Psalm 121 is chanted in the evening together with Psalm 91, and the pairing is deliberate: Psalm 91 promises shelter through the night, and Psalm 121 names the one who stays awake to provide it. The word the psalm leans on, noturo, watchman, is a word Lebanese villages knew literally; every village had its watchman, and every villager knew he sometimes slept. The psalm's whole comfort is a watchman who does not.

The Psalms are the backbone of Maronite prayer, threading through the Qurbono and the daily office, and this one has a particular place in the Maronite heart because of its last verse. A church whose people are forever going out and coming in, from the village to the coast, from Lebanon to Australia and the wider world of the diaspora, has prayed "he will keep your going out and your coming in" over every generation of its travelers.

Praying It Yourself

This is the psalm to pray at departures. Before a journey, before an exam, before a child leaves home, say the first two verses aloud: Arim 'aynay l'turo, aymeko nite m'adran; 'udron men qdom Moryo, haw da'bad shmayo w'ar'o. Then let verse 8 do what it has always done for this people: hand the road, both directions of it, to the keeper who does not sleep.

Pair it at night with Psalm 91 in Aramaic, as the Syriac office does, or with our prayer for protection. The Aramaic cluster continues with Psalm 23, the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the Aramaic words Jesus spoke.

Frequently Asked Questions

What language was Psalm 121 originally written in?

Psalm 121 was written in Hebrew, one of the fifteen Songs of Ascents sung by pilgrims going up to Jerusalem. Its Hebrew opening is Esa einai el heharim, "I lift my eyes to the mountains." The Aramaic version comes from the Peshitta, the Syriac Bible translated from the Hebrew in the first centuries of Christianity. Syriac is a dialect of Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke, and the Maronite, Syriac, Assyrian and Chaldean churches have prayed the psalm in it ever since.

How do you say "I lift up my eyes to the mountains" in Aramaic?

In the Syriac Aramaic of the Peshitta, the first line of Psalm 121 is Arim 'aynay l'turo (ܐܪܝܡ ܥܝ̈ܢܝ ܠܛܘܪܐ), "I lift my eyes to the mountain." The verse continues aymeko nite m'adran, "from where will my helper come?" The answer follows in verse 2: 'udron men qdom Moryo, "my help is from before the Lord," who made heaven and earth.

What do the mountains represent in Psalm 121?

On the pilgrim road they were literal: the hills around Jerusalem, beautiful and dangerous, hiding both the Temple and the bandits. The psalm looks at them and pointedly does not put its trust in them; help comes from the Lord who made them. Later readers, Lebanese ones especially, have loved the image anyway, because for a mountain people the lifted gaze is a daily posture, and the psalm redirects it one step higher than the summit.

Is Psalm 121 the same as Psalm 120?

In the Greek Septuagint and Latin Vulgate numbering, this psalm is 120, because those traditions count two earlier psalms as one. The Hebrew Bible, the Peshitta and modern translations call it Psalm 121. It is the same psalm, beginning "I lift my eyes to the mountains," the second of the Songs of Ascents.

When do Christians pray Psalm 121?

Before journeys above all: it is the traveler's psalm, prayed at departures, and its last verse, "your going out and your coming in," makes it the emigrant's blessing. In the Syriac tradition it is also a night psalm, chanted in the evening office alongside Psalm 91. Families pray it for children leaving home, students sitting exams, and anyone whose road is uncertain.