My soul, praise the Lord, thou, Lord, mine own God

Verse 1

My soul, praise the Lord, thou, Lord, mine own God, art glorious, enrobed in beauty and might;

Verse 2

the heavens, like a curtain, thou spreadest abroad; as raiment, around thee enfoldest the light.

Verse 3

For chambers-beams sure, dark waters he binds; of clouds dim and deep his chariot doth frame, on stormy blasts riding, on wings of all winds;

Verse 4

his angels are spirits, his servants a flame.

Verse 5

Foundations secure he laid for the globe, that stable and firm it ever should last;

Verse 6

the waste ocean gathering o'er all as a robe: o'er all the high mountains the surging waves passed.

Verse 7

At thy dread rebuke they flee and they fail; thy thunder is heard, they speed here and there;

Verse 8

they burst the ridge over, they rush down the vale; where thou hast appointed, they haste to repair.

Verse 9

Thine own word hath set their border and bound, they roar and they toss, but cannot pass o'er: the word of Jehovah a sure fence is found; the flood o'er the mountains returneth no more.

Verse 10

He unto the vales the springs doth convey; and onward they wind their course through the hills;

Verse 11

whereat the wild asses their thirst oft allay, and beasts of the forest thereof drink their fills.

Verse 12

By thee pleasant springs, the fowls of the air inhabit the trees, the margin along; and, as in their gladness they move here and there among the green branches, praise God with their song.

Verse 13

His rain on the hills he pours from on high, with fruit of thy works the earth is replete;

Verse 14

his grass to the cattle he doth not deny, and gives for man's service the green herb as meat.

Verse 15

From earth, store of good he brings for man's sake; rich oil, gladsome wine, heart-strengthening bread.

Verse 16

His trees full of moisture the great God did make; his cedars he planted on Lebanon's head.

Verse 17

Secure in those shades the bird builds her nest; the firs to the stork a house have supplied;

Verse 18

the hills are a refuge for wild goats to rest; the crags of the rough rocks for conies to hide.

Verse 19

The moon he hath set for seasons to run; the times he ordained her change ever shows; and so, his course circling, the glorious sun his hour of descending as constantly knows.

Verse 20

When darkness doth come by thy will and power, then prowl forth abroad the beasts of the wood.

Verse 21

The lions rang roaring their prey to devour; and yet it is thou, Lord, who givest them food.

Verse 22

As riseth the sun, they all get them in; withdrawn from his light, to couch in their den;

Verse 23

but man forth proceedeth his toil to begin; till night come to call him to take rest again.

Verse 24

How manifold, Lord, the works of thy hand! Surpassing our thoughts their numbers are found! Thy outspread creation in wisdom is planned, and full of thy riches the wide world around.

Verse 25

So in the great sea thy works are displayed, where creeping things move, unnumbered in sort;

Verse 26

and there the ships wander, and there thou hast made Leviathan, hugest of monsters, to sport.

Verse 27

All these wait on thee their food to receive; that thou, in due time, their portion may'st give:

Verse 28

and, when it doth pleasethee their wants to relieve, full gladly they gather thy bounty and live.

Verse 29

Thou openest thine hand; how full their supply! Thou hidest thy face, confounded they mourn: when thou from them takest their spirit, they die, and to their dust, changing, again they return.

Verse 30

Thou send'st forth thy breath, and they are new made; and earth, as at first, looks vernal and bright.

Verse 31

In glory for ever the Lord is arrayed, and in his creation our God will delight.

Verse 32

He looks on the earth, it reels to and fro; he touches the hills, with smoke they are crowned.

Verse 33

Through life to Jehovah mine anthems shall flow; while yet I have being his praise I will sound.

Verse 34

With dear thoughts of him my heart shall run o'er; with God all my joy in treasure is stored.

Verse 35

The sinners are wasted; earth sees them no more, the rebels — where are they? My soul, praise the Lord.