Song of Praise to God for His Goodness and Mercy.
PRAISE ye the Lord: ’tis good to sing
The praises of our heavenly King;
Be this, my soul, thy sweet employ,
Thy welcome task, thy chiefest joy.
The Lord rebuilds Jerusalem’s walls,
And Israel’s scattered race recalls,
Though far dispersed the world around,
To Zion’s blest and holy ground.
He healeth all the broken hearts,
And balsam to their wounds imparts.
He numbers yonder starry frames,
And calls them by their several names.
Great is the Lord, and great his might;
His wisdom’s vast and infinite;
He lifts the meek from depths profound,
But casts the wicked to the ground.
Sing to the Lord a grateful song;
With tuneful harp his praise prolong,
Whose gathering clouds discharge their rain
To make the mountains green again.
He gives the beast of prey his food
And satisfies the raven’s brood.
He daily hears their plaintive cry,
And sends the requisite supply.
He prizes not the warlike horse,
Nor the strong man’s resistless force;
But all who love him and revere,
And trust in him, to God are dear.
O praise the Lord, Jerusalem,
Zion, extol Jehovah’s name:
Like walls of brass, his providence
Is thy protection and defence.
Thy sons are by his bounty blest
With wholesome food and needful rest:
They pine not o’er a scanty store,
Nor ever hear the voice of war.
His irresistible command
Jehovah sends throughout the land;
Nor does the speedy mandate run
More swiftly than its work is done.
His flaky snow falls thick around;
His hoar-frost overspreads the ground;
His driving hail falls loud and fast;
O who can stand his piercing blast?
Jehovah sends his word again,
A rapid thaw succeeds amain;
At his command the warm winds blow,
And twice ten thousand torrents flow.
But choicer gifts of heavenly grace
He gives to Abram’s chosen race:
His word to Jacob he hath shown;
His laws to Israel are known.
Blessings so great were never given
To any nation under heaven;
For others ne’er have heard his word
Or known his grace. Praise ye the Lord!
(John Dunmore Lang)
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