Psalm 147
For it is good to sing praises unto our God;
For it is pleasant, and praise is comely.
He gathereth together the outcasts of Israel.
And bindeth up their wounds.
He calleth them all by their names.
His understanding is infinite.
He bringeth the wicked down to the ground.
Sing praises upon the harp unto our God,
Who prepareth rain for the earth,
Who maketh grass to grow upon the mountains.
And to the young ravens which cry.
He taketh no pleasure in the legs of a man.
In those that hope in his lovingkindness.
Praise thy God, O Zion.
He hath blessed thy children within thee.
He filleth thee with the finest of the wheat.
His word runneth very swiftly.
He scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes.
Who can stand before his cold?
He causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow.
His statutes and his ordinances unto Israel.
And as for his ordinances, they have not known them.
Praise ye Jehovah.