'Tis good to thank the Lord

Verse 1

'Tis good to thank the Lord, And sing thy praise, Most Jigh;

Verse 2

Each morn, thy eindness to record, Each night, thy verity.

Verse 3

On ten-stringed instrument, With psaltery's tuneful wind; On sprightly harps, in one consent, With solemn voices joined.

Verse 4

Thy work of power, and grace, Lord, makes my heart rejoice; I, in thy handiworks, will raise, With shouts of praise, my voice.

Verse 5

How great thy works are, Lord! How very deep thy thought!

Verse 6

A brutish man knows not thy word; Nor fools what thou hast wrought.

Verse 7

When wicked men do spring. Like grass, look fresh and fair, 'Tis that to ruin thou may'st them bring, And cover with despair.

Verse 8

Thou'rt ever, Lord, Most High,

Verse 9

For lo, thy foes shall fall; And they that work iniquity, Shall be dispersed all.

Verse 10

But thou mine horn shalt raise, As unicorn's, on high; And with fresh oil, through all my days, Anointed be shall I.

Verse 11

Mine eye shall see the doom, Mine ear the end shall hear, That on my spies, and foes, shall come; And such as malice bear.

Verse 12

The just, like palms, shall thrive, Like Lebanon's cedars grow:

Verse 13

Those in the Lord's house planted, live, In his courts they glorious show.

Verse 14

In age, their fruit is bright, With strength, and verdure, crowned.

Verse 15

To show the Lord, my rock's upright; In him no falsehood's found.