Praise ye the Lord, for it is good
To sing unto our God;
'Tis right and pleasant for His saints
To tell His praise abroad.
The Lord our God builds up His Church,
He seeks her wandering sons;
He binds their wounds and gently heals
The broken-hearted ones.
Our Lord is great, He calls by name
And counts the stars of night;
His wisdom is unsearchable,
And wondrous is His might.
The Lord upholds the poor and meek,
He brings the wicked low;
Sing praise to Him and give Him thanks
And all His goodness show.
No human might, no earthly pride
Delights the Lord above;
In them that fear Him He delights,
In them that trust His love.
O Zion, praise the Lord thy God,
His wondrous love confess;
He is thy glory and thy strength,
He will thy children bless.
