Psalm 148

THe Lord of heav'n, confesse;
On high, his glories raise:
Him, let all Angells blesse;
And, all his Armies praise.
Him, glorifie
Sunn, moone & starrs: yee higher Sphears,
And, Cloudie skie.

From God, your Beeings are;
Him, therefore, famous make:
You, all, Created were
When he the word, but, spake.
And, from that place,
Where fixt you be by his Decree,
You cannot passe.

Praise God, from Earth belowe,
Yee Dragons, & yee Deeps;
Fire, haile, Clouds, winde, & snowe,
Whome, in Command, he keeps.
Praise yee his Name
Hills, great & small; Trees, low & tall;
Beasts, wilde & tame.

All things, that creep or flye,
Yee Kings, yee vulger Throng,
All Princes, meane or hye,
Both men, & Virgines yonge:
Ev'n yong & old,
Exalt his Name; For, much his fame.
Should be extold.

Oh let God's Name be praisd
Above both earth & skye:
For, he his Saints hath raisd,
And, sett their horne on hye:
Yea, they that are
Of Isr'els race, are in his grace
And, ever dear. Haleluiah.