How good to celebrate our God in song; how sweet to give fitting praise.
The Lord rebuilds Jerusalem, gathers the dispersed of Israel, heals the brokenhearted,
binds up their wounds, numbers all the stars, calls each of then by name.
Great is our Lord, vast in power, with wisdom beyond measure.
The Lord sustains the poor, but casts the wicked to the ground.

Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving; with the lyre celebrate our God,
who covers the heavens with clouds, provides rain for the earth,
makes grass sprout on the mountains, who gives animals their food
and ravens what they cry for.
God takes no delight in the strength of horses, no pleasure in the runner’s stride.
Rather the Lord takes pleasure in the devout, those who await his faithful care.