CXLVII.
1
Praise God, for gude it is to sing
Prayse to our God allways;
A pleasant exercise it is
And comely to give prayse.
2
The Lord the builder is, whose hand
Jerusalem erects.
The Lord it is the scattred ones
Of Israel colects.
3
The broken harted he doeth heall;
Ther bruises wp he binds.
4
The stars he numbereth, and to all
Of them a name he finds.
5
Great is our God; to his great power
Is sett no certaine bound;
So deep his wnderstanding is,
That it no thoght can sound.
6
The Lord the lowly [raiseth wp],
And headlongs doun doth bring
7
The wicked to the ground. To him
With thankfullnes, O sing;
8
Hymnes on the harp wnto our God
Sound forth, heavin's face who hyds
With moistning clouds, and for the earth
(In plenty) raine provids;
9
Who maks the mountaines grasse bring forth;
On beasts both great and small
Who food bestows; of reavens who heares
The yong ones, when they call.
10
Nor strenth of horse, nor limbs of men
Him joy or pleasure bring;
11
His joy who feare him ar, in hope
Who on his mercy hing.
12
Jerusalem, O laud the Lord.
Sing to thy God a song
13
Of prayse, O Sion, for thy gates
With barrs he hath made strong.
Thy sonnes within the he hath blest.
14
Peace, (yeelding pleasures sweet),
Hee in thy borders maks, and feeds
The with the fatt of wheatt.
15
Forth his com̄and on earth he sends;
His word doth run̄e wt speed.
16
He giveth snow lyk wooll, hayr-frosts
Lyk ashs hee doth spread.
17
His yce in flakes hee casteth forth
Lyk morsells. Who can stand
18
Befor his cold? Hee speaks and streght
All melt at his com̄and.
His winds to blow, streames (strangly curvt)
Hee causeth to be gone.
19
His word to Jacob, his decrees
And judgments hee hath schowne
20
To Israell; No natioun els
Hath so great favour found;
For they his judgments haue not knowne.
Let all his prayses sound.
