1 Praise ye the Lord? 'tis good to raise
Your hearts and voices in his praise:
His nature and his works invite,
To make this duty our delight.
2 He form'd the stars, those heav'nly flames;
He counts their numbers, calls their names;
His wisdom's vast, and knows no bound,
A deep, where all our thoughts are drown'd!
3 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.
4 He makes the grass the hills adorn,
And clothes the smiling fields with corn;
The beasts with food his hand supply,
And the young ravens when they cry.
5 What is the creature's skill or force,
The sprightly man, or warlike horse?
The piercing wit, the active limb,
All are too mean delights for him.
6 But saints are lovely in his sight,
He views his children with delight!
He sees their hope, he knows their fear;
And looks, and loves his image there.
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | Praise ye the Lord? 'tis good to raise |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1791 |
Topic: | Praise |