CXIII. Your maker's praise, ye righteous souls, proclaim

1 Your maker's praise, ye righteous souls, proclaim;
All ye his servants, hymn his holy name;
2 The name of your tremendous Lord adore,
That all to endless time may hail his pow'r;
2 From morn to night, while glads the sun the day,
Let man the mercies of his God display;
4 His God, above the nations seated high,
High in the heav'ns, enthron'd in majesty.
5 What fancied god can with our God compare?
Whose throne's supported by the azure air;
6 Whose eye, all-seeing, heav'n and earth pervades,
7 Who in their deep distress the wretched aids;
8 The poor who raises from his low estate,
And, equal with proud princes, makes him great;
9 Who gives the sterile womb a fruitful birth;
With joy the matron brings her issue forth;
With joy she views her progeny around;
The praises of your God, ye just, resound.

Text Information
First Line: Your maker's praise, ye righteous souls, proclaim
Language: English
Publication Date: 1756
Scripture:
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