Psalm 146
Words: Isaac Watts
(Note: two versions on this page)
1 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.
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 Isr'el'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' oppressed, he feeds the poor;
He sends the laboring 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.
Another of the same
1 I'll praise my Maker while I've 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.
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 pow'r,
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 the oppressed, 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 laboring 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 ev'ry tongue, let ev'ry 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.
