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1 Praise ye the Lord; 'tis good to raise
Our hearts and voices in his praise:
His nature and his works invite
To make this duty our delight.
2 The Lord builds up Jerusalem,
And gathers nations to his name:
His mercy melts the stubborn soul,
And makes the broken spirit whole.
3 He form'd the stars, those heav'nly flames,
He counts their numbers, calls their names:
His sov'reign wisdom knows no bound,
A deep where all great thoughts are drown'd.
4 Great is the Lord, and great his might,
And all his glories infinite;
He crowns the meek, rewards the just,
And treads the wicked to the dust.
Pause.
5 Sing to the Lord, exalt him high,
Who spreads his clouds around the sky;
There he prepares the fruitful rain,
Nor lets the drops descend in vain.
6 He makes the grass the hills adorn,
And clothes the smiling fields with corn,
The beasts with food his hands supply,
And feeds the ravens when they cry.
7 What is the creature's skill or force,
The vig'rous man, the warlike horse,
The sprightly wit, the active limb;
All are too mean delights for him.
8 But saints are lovely in his sight;
He views his children with delight;
He sees their hope, he knows their fear,
And finds and loves his image there.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Praise ye the Lord; 'tis good to raise |
Title: | The divine nature, providence, and grace |
Meter: | Long Metre |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1791 |
Scripture: | |
Notes: | First part |