Psalm 147

OH glorifie the Lord;
For, of God's praise to sing,
With justice doth accord:
Yea, 'tis a pleasant thing.
Ierusalem,
Hee will erect, and recollect
His Flock to him.

The Contrite hart, hee heales,
Hee cures their bruises, all.
The Starrs, he, also, tells;
And, them by Name cann call.
This Lord of our,
In wise foresight, is infinite,
And great in powre.

The Lord, the Meek doth raise,
The proud, he brings to ground.
Oh therfor, sing his praise,
Let Harps, his praise resound.
He, Clouds doth bring,
And, shewres distills, which on the hills,
Makes grasse to spring.

Ev'n Beasts, & Ravens yonge,
He feedeth when they call:
In horse, or footmen strong,
He ioyeth nought at all:
God loves all them;
Who in his grace, their hopes doe place,
And honor him.

Syon, & Salem, blesse
The Lord your God, (in song)
Who doth your seed encrease,
And, hath your Gates made strong.
His Peace hath, yet,
Your bounds vphild; &, you he fild
With flowre of wheat.

Through earth, his Mandates goe,
His word, with swiftnes flies,
Like wooll, he giveth snowe;
His frost; like Ashes lies:
And, then (beside)
He forth doth slice, cold flakes of Ice,
Which who cann bide?

He speakes, & streight it thawes:
He breaths, & water flowes.
His, statutes, & his Lawes,
He, to his people showes:
No nation els,
His Iudgments know, & therfore, soe
With none he deals. Haleluiah.