Praise ye the Lord, my heart shall join

In work so pleasant, so divine;

Now, while the flesh is mine abode,

And when my soul ascends to God.

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.

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.

Happy the man whose hopes rely

On Isr'el's God; he made the sky,

And earth, and seas, with all their train,

And none shall find his promise vain.

His truth for ever stands secure;

He saves th' oppressed, he feeds the poor;

He sends the lab'ring conscience peace,

And grants the pris'ner sweet release.

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.

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.