Psalm 147

Praise ye the Lord; for it is good

praise to our God to sing:

For it is pleasant, and to praise

it is a comely thing.

God doth build up Jerusalem;

and he it is alone

That the dispers'd of Israel

doth gather into one.

Those that are broken in their heart,

and grieved in their minds,

He healeth, and their painful wounds

he tenderly up-binds.

He counts the number of the stars;

he names them ev'ry one.

Great is our Lord, and of great pow'r;

his wisdom search can none.

The Lord lifts up the meek; and casts

the wicked to the ground.

Sing to the Lord, and give him thanks;

on harp his praises sound;

Who covereth the heav'n with clouds,

who for the earth below

Prepareth rain, who maketh grass

upon the mountains grow.

He gives the beast his food, he feeds

the ravens young that cry.

His pleasure not in horses' strength,

nor in man's legs, doth lie.

But in all those that do him fear

the Lord doth pleasure take;

In those that to his mercy do

by hope themselves betake.

The Lord praise, O Jerusalem;

Sion, thy God confess:

For thy gates' bars he maketh strong;

thy sons in thee doth bless.

He in thy borders maketh peace;

with fine wheat filleth thee.

He sends forth his command on earth,

his word runs speedily.

Hoar-frost, like ashes, scatt'reth he;

like wool he snow doth give:

Like morsels casteth forth his ice;

who in its cold can live?

He sendeth forth his mighty word,

and melteth them again;

His wind he makes to blow,

and then the waters flow amain.

The doctrine of his holy word

to Jacob he doth show;

His statutes and his judgments he

gives Israel to know.

To any nation never he

such favour did afford;

For they his judgments have not known.

O do ye praise the Lord.