Psalm 8

O God, our Lord, through all the earth
how glorious is thy name?
Above the the Heav'ns thou hast advanc'd
thine honour and thy fame.
From infants mouths and sucking babes
thy praise with power goes,
To still thereby thine enemies,
and proud avenging foes.

When I behold the Heav'ns above,
the works of thine own hand,
The moon and stars which thou hast fixt
in oder as they stand;
What is weak, wretched man, that thou
keep'st him in memorie?
Or, what is base mans son, that thus
thou visit'st him (think I?)

Thou mad'st him little lower then
the Angels in degree,
And hast with honour crowned him,
and with great Majestie.
And thou hast made him to be Lord
o're all works of thine hand,
Under his feet thou put'st all things
that he might them command.

The flocks and oxen all of them
to him obedience yield,
And thou subjectest unto him
the wild beasts of the field.
The feth'red birds and fowls of Heav'n
the power of man do know,
And fishes that walk through the paths
of the deep seas below.

O God, our Lord, who all these things
did'st by thy power frame,
How excellent through all the earth
is thy most glorious name?