Psalm 147
1 Praise ye the Lord, for it
is good praises to sing,
to our God for it’s sweet,
praise is a comely thing.
2 Jerusalem
the Lord up-rears,
outcasts gathers
of Isr’el them.
3 The broke in heart he heals:
and up their wounds doth bind.
4 The stars by number tells:
he calls them all by kind.
5 Our Lord great is,
and of great might,
yea infinite
his knowledge ‘tis.
6 The Lord sets up the low:
wicked to ground doth fling.
7 Sing thanks the Lord unto
on harp, our God’s praise sing.
8 Who clouds the skies,
to earth gives rain:
who on mountains
makes grass to rise.
9 Beasts, he and ravens’ young
when as they cry feeds them.
10 Joys not in horses strong:
nor in the legs of men.
11 The Lord doth place
his pleasure where
men do him fear,
and hope on’s grace.
12 Jerusalem, God praise:
Zion thy God confess.
13 For thy gates bars he stays:
in thee thy sons doth bless.
14 Peace maketh he
in borders thine:
with wheat so fine
he filleth thee.