Scripture Verse

Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: praise Him in the heights. Psalm 148:1


Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Words: Is­aac Watts, The Psalms of Da­vid 1719. Uni­vers­al praise.

Music: Ches­ter (Stan­ley) Sam­uel Stan­ley (1767–1822) (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tunes:

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Stan­ley (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),


Let ev­ery crea­ture join
To praise th’eter­nal God;
Ye heav’n­ly hosts, the song be­gin,
And sound His name abroad.

Thou sun with gold­en beams,
And moon with pal­er rays;
Ye star­ry lights, ye twink­ling flames,
Shine to your mak­er’s praise.

He built those worlds above,
And fixed their won­drous frame;
By His com­mand they stand or move,
And ev­er speak His name.

Ye va­pors, when ye rise,
Or fall in show­ers of snow;
Ye thun­ders, mur­mur­ing round the skies,
His pow­er and glo­ry show.

Wind, hail, and flash­ing fire,
Agree to praise the Lord,
When ye in dread­ful storms con­spire
To exe­cute His word.

By all His works above
His hon­ors be ex­pressed;
But saints that taste His sav­ing love
Should sing His prais­es best.

Let earth and ocean know
They owe their mak­er praise;
Praise Him, ye wa­te­ry worlds below,
And mon­sters of the seas.

From mount­ains near the sky,
Let His high praise re­sound;
From hum­ble shrubs and cedars high,
And vales and fields around.

Ye li­ons of the wood,
And tam­er beasts that graze,
We live up­on His dai­ly food,
And He ex­pects your praise.

Ye birds of lof­ty wing,
On high His prais­es bear;
Or sit on flow­ery boughs, and sing
Your mak­er’s glo­ry there.

Ye creep­ing ants and worms,
His va­ri­ous wis­dom show,
And flies, in all your shin­ing swarms,
Praise Him that dressed you so.

By all the earth-born race
His hon­ors be ex­pressed;
But saints, that know His heav’n­ly grace
Should learn to praise Him best.

Monarchs of wide com­mand,
Praise ye th’eter­nal King;
Judges, ad­ore that so­ve­reign hand
Whence all your hon­ors spring.

Let vi­gor­ous youth en­gage
To sound His prais­es high:
While grow­ing babes, and wi­ther­ing age,
Their feeb­ler voices try.

United zeal be shown
His won­drous fame to raise:
God is the Lord; His name alone
Deserves our end­less praise.

Let na­ture join with art,
And all pro­nounce Him blessed;
But saints, that dwell so near His heart,
Should sing His prais­es best.