Praise ye the Lord!—'t is good to raise

Praise ye the Lord!—'t is good to raiseOur hearts and voices in his praise;His nature and his works inviteTo make this duty our delight.

The Lord builds up Jerusalem,And gathers nations to his name;His mercy melts the stubborn soul,And makes the broken spirit whole.

He formed the stars,—those heavenly flames,—He counts their numbers, calls their names:His wisdom's vast, and knows no bound,—A deep, where all our thoughts are drowned.

Great is our Lord, and great his might,And all his glories infinite;He crowns the meek, rewards the just,And treads the wicked to the dust.

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.

Proclaim him King, pronounce him blest:He's your defense, your joy, your rest:When terrors rise and nations faint,God is the strength of every saint.