Psalm 147

Psalm 147Hallelujah!  Praise the Lord!  How good to sing to God
‘Tis fitting, pleasant, beautiful, when saints, His works applaud.

He gathers in the outcast ones and heals their broken hearts
He binds their wounds, rebuilds their lives, and to them hope imparts.

This glorious God knows all the stars, calls each one out by name
His wisdom far beyond our own, His greatness we proclaim.

The wicked He casts to the ground, the humble He sustains
Take up your harp with thanksgiving, sing out melodious strains.

He spreads the clouds across the skies, sends rain for crops to grow
He feeds young ravens and the beasts, their needs He doth bestow.

He takes no pleasure in the strength of horse or human might
But in all those who hope in Him He does take great delight.

Praise the Lord, ye chosen ones, for all the ways He’s blessed
The finest wheat your children eat, enjoying peace and rest.

With just a word He sends forth snow and frost and hail and cold
Then sends a word and melts it all, ‘tis all by Him controlled.

How special that you hear His word, His statutes, rules and ways
No other people have a God who thus Himself displays.

Hallelujah!  Praise the Lord!  How good to sing to God
‘Tis fitting, pleasant, beautiful, when saints, His works applaud.

© J Dan Small

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