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.