Psalms 147

Praise ye Yah, For it is good, to make melody to our GOD,—For it is delightful, seemly is praise! Yahweh, is building Jerusalem, The outcasts of Israel, will he gather together. He is healing the broken in heart,—and binding up their hurts. Counting the number of the stars, To all of them—names, he giveth. Great is our Lord, and of abounding strength, And, his knowledge, cannot be expressed. Yahweh, relieveth the humbled! casting the lawless down to the earth. Respond to Yahweh with thanksgiving, Make melody to our God with the lyre. Who covereth the heavens with clouds, preparing rain for the earth, who causeth the mountains to sprout grass: Giving, to the beast, its food, to the young ravens, when they cry. 10 Not in the strength of the horse, doth he delight, Not in the legs of a man, hath he pleasure: 11 Yahweh, hath pleasure, in them who revere him, in them who wait for his lovingkindness.

12 Laud thou, O Jerusalem, Yahweh, Praise thy God, O Zion: 13 For he hath strengthened the bars of thy gates, He hath blessed thy children in thy midst: 14 Who maketh thy boundaries to be peace, With the marrow of wheat, doth he satisfy thee: 15 Who sendeth his utterance to the earth, How swiftly, runneth his word! 16 Who giveth snow like wool, Hoar-frost—like ashes, he scattereth: 17 Casting forth his ice like crumbs, Before his cold, who can stand? 18 He sendeth forth his word and melteth them, He causeth his wind to blow, the waters, stream along: 19 Declaring his word unto Jacob, His statutes and his regulations, unto Israel. 20 He hath not dealt so with any nation, and, his regulations, he maketh not known to them. Praise ye Yah!

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