1.Praise ye the Lord! 'tis good to raise Your hearts and voices in His praise; His nature and His works invite To make this duty our delight. 2.He formed the stars, those heavenly flames, He counts their numbers, calls their names; His wisdom's vast, and knows no bound, A deep where all our thoughts are drowned. 3.Sing to the Lord, exalt Him high, Who spreads His clouds along the sky; There He prepare the fruitful rain, Nor lets the drops descend in vain. 4.He makes the grass the hills adorn, And clothes the smiling fields with corn; The beasts with food His hands supply, And the young ravens when they cry. 5.His saints are lovely in His sight, He views His children with delight; He sees their hope, He knows their fear, And looks and loves His image there.