Psalm 146 (Version 2)

I'll praise my Maker with my breath;

And when my voice is lost in death

Praise shall employ my nobler powers:

My days of praise shall ne'er he past

While life and thought and being last,

Or immortality endures.

Why should I make a man my trust?

Princes must die and turn to dust;

Vain is the help of flesh and blood:

Their breath departs, their pomp and power,

And thoughts all vanish in an hour,

Nor can they make their promise good.

Happy the man whose hopes rely

On Israel's God: he made the sky,

And earth and seas with all their train;

His truth for ever stands secure;

He saves th' opprest, he feeds the poor,

And none shall find his promise vain.

The Lord hath eyes to give the blind;

The Lord supports the sinking mind;

He sends the labouring conscience peace:

He helps the stranger in distress,

The widow and the fatherless,

And grants the prisoner sweet release.

He loves his saints; he knows them well,

But turns the wicked down to hell;

Thy God, O Zion, ever reigns:

Let every tongue, let every age,

In this exalted work engage;

Praise him in everlasting strains.

I'll praise him while he lends me breath,

And when my voice is lost in death

Praise shall employ my nobler powers:

My days of praise shall ne'er be past

While life and thought and being last,

Or immortality endures.