2 Praise shall employ my noblest powers, While immortality endures; My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life and thought and being last. 3 Why should I make a man my trust? Princes must die and turn to dust; Their breath departs, their pomp and power And thoughts, all vanish in an hour. 4 Happy the man whose hopes rely On Israel's God: he made the sky, And earth and seas with all their train, And none shall find his promise vain. 5 His truth for ever stands secure; He saves th' opprest, he feeds the poor; He sends the labouring conscience peace, And grants the prisoner sweet release. 6 The Lord hath eyes to give the blind; The Lord supports the sinking mind; He helps the stranger in distress, The widow and the fatherless. 7 He loves his saints, he knows them well, But turns the wicked down to hell: Thy God, O Zion, ever reigns; Praise him in everlasting strains. Psalm 146:2. As the 113th Psalm. Praise to God for his goodness and truth. 1 I'll praise my Maker with my breath; And when my voice is lost in death Praise shall employ my nobler powers: My days of praise shall ne'er he past While life and thought and being last, Or immortality endures. 2 Why should I make a man my trust? Princes must die and turn to dust; Vain is the help of flesh and blood: Their breath departs, their pomp and power, And thoughts all vanish in an hour, Nor can they make their promise good. 3 Happy the man whose hopes rely On Israel's God: he made the sky, And earth and seas with all their train; His truth for ever stands secure; He saves th' opprest, he feeds the poor, And none shall find his promise vain. 4 The Lord hath eyes to give the blind; The Lord supports the sinking mind; He sends the labouring conscience peace: He helps the stranger in distress, The widow and the fatherless, And grants the prisoner sweet release. 5 He loves his saints; he knows them well, But turns the wicked down to hell; Thy God, O Zion, ever reigns: Let every tongue, let every age, In this exalted work engage; Praise him in everlasting strains. 6 I'll praise him while he lends me breath, And when my voice is lost in death Praise shall employ my nobler powers: My days of praise shall ne'er be past While life and thought and being last, Or immortality endures. Psalm 147:1. First Part. The divine nature, providence and grace. 1 Praise ye the Lord; 'tis good to raise Our hearts and voices in his praise; His nature and his works invite To make this duty our delight. 2 The Lord builds up Jerusalem, And gathers nations to his Name: His mercy melts the stubborn soul, And makes the broken spirit whole. 3 He form'd the stars, those heavenly flames, He counts their numbers, calls their names: His wisdom's vast, and knows no bound, A deep where all our thoughts are drown'd. 4 Great is our Lord, and great his might; And all his glories infinite: He crowns the meek, rewards the just, And treads the wicked to the dust. PAUSE.