Psalm CXLVII. 1st. Part. L. Met. The beauties of nature

Sing to the Lord, let praise inspire, The grateful voice, the tuneful lyre; In strains of joy proclaim abroad, The endless glories of our God.

He counts the hosts of starry flames, He knows their natures and their names; Great is our God! his wond'rous power, And boundless wisdom we adore.

He veils the sky with treasur'd showers, On earth, the plenteous blessing pours; The meadows smile in lively green, And fairer blooms the flowery scene.

His bounteous hand, great spring of good, Provides the brute creation food; He feeds the ravens when they cry, All nature lives beneath his eye.

In nature, what can him delight Most lovely in its maker's sight? Not active strength his favour moves, Nor comely form he best approves.

But to the Lord is ever dear, The heart where he implants his fear; The souls who on his grace rely Are ever lovely in his eye.